8:54 PM

WHEN YOU DON’T GIVE THEM ATTENTION.

▹ dekusquad edition.

IZUKU blinks at first, used to warm touches and a gentle hand at his cheek every time you passed him in the kitchen, and pauses in getting a glass of water to peer at you curiously. but it’s when he realizes you aren’t going to acknowledge him does he frown a bit, a worried crease in his brow. actively wonders if he did anything wrong and will run himself into mad circles trying to figure it out, so you better tell him it was a prank..

OCHAKO pouts when she realizes her relentless poking for the last two minutes leads her to another dead end. she had tried everything—calling, texting, offering hugs, asking if you were feeling okay—but to no avail. she’s very persistent, though, and vows to find out what’s got you acting so cold to her. though it’s just as she’s running out ideas do you break into a smile and tell her it was just a prank, to which she, too, attempts in giving you the silence treatment… but her resolve quickly crumbles when you tell her the prank has been a bit of hell for you as well.

SHOTO frowns when you don’t greet him with a smile like you usually do, stiffing when you simply walk past him to sit on the couch. slowly, he makes his rounds over to where you’re sitting, hesitant in reaching out. and your front all but crumbles when he quietly asks if he had done anything wrong, hands reaching out to pull him into a hug immediately. reassure him over and over that he didn’t do anything wrong, please.

TSUYU takes your silence with the grace and patience of swan, reading into your faux resignation as a sign that you wanted to be left alone. she does check up on your periodically, brows furrowing with worry the more you don’t answer, and honestly relays her feelings to you before leaving you alone—for some time. it’s then do you come to her and reveal that it was a prank, to which relief and a bare-bone smile crosses her lips.

TENYA peers over his frames in slight disbelief—as if the person who entered your beloved home was a complete stranger rather than the other half of his heart—because normally you waste no time in telling him about your day, complaining about the nuisances that occurred while laying your head on his chest. the uneasy feeling follows him all throughout dinner and while getting ready for bed, and it’s not until he tentatively taps your shoulder to ask if everything was alright does he finally see the smile he’d been waiting all day to see. (he vows to research on trends from then on, so you might have created a little problem.)

reblogs are appreciated ☕️ thank you for reading <3

no, because. something about men acting all stoic around his peers/workmates and rarely smiling, being serious in general and then being all soft with you, smiling and laughing at your jokes, wrapping their arms around your waist and placing their chin on your shoulder … do you know how much i love you? they’ll ask and proceed to demonstrate it

i forgot to post this

i used that really popular Pinterest reference with the guy kissing someones hand

love u jack

DRUNK WORDS, SOBER THOUGHTS.

“ you know what? i miss you. i miss my brother. ”

or, in which diluc gets drunk, kaeya is a little bit tipsy, and some confessions get spilled.

diluc/kaeya (familial/platonic u stinkies)

category/warnings: bittersweet, alcohol consumption, characters being drunk, brotherhood am i right yall 😊, kaeya is called a ragnvindr at some moments, i focus more on kaeya here i am so sorry diluc luvrs

note: blame tiktok, conan gray but also me for this fic. my head hurts mb if there are any mistakes @xiaophobic @starglitterz

“well, well, well, if this isn’t the diluc ragnvindr drunk. never thought i’d witness that sight again,” the blue haired man says while walking through the door to angel’s share and meeting no one other than his brother sitting by the bar, his head slugging down and hand holding a glass of some kind of an unidentified alcohol mixture — or at least, so he guessed, because the stench in the air couldn’t have been anything else.

he closes the door behind him and slowly makes his way to him, his eyesight refocusing and focusing over and over. fuck, maybe he was more than just tipsy.

“shut it,” diluc mumbles, his words slurred and eyes closed.

“oh, come on now, brother,” he says, plopping onto the barstool next to him. “it’s not like i’m the soberest either or anything like that.”

“we’re not brothers.”

kaeya feels a quick and small pang in his heart, yet he doesn’t react in any way. he’s used to it; after all, how could someone like him even deserve a family after all he’s done?

“maybe you’re a little bit less drunk than i thought you were,” he mutters quietly. it was supposed to be humorous yet his voice comes out as flat. maybe, if diluc was truly a little bit less drunk, he’d hear an unmistakable hurt in it — deeply hidden and almost unhearable, — but he wasn’t. and so he didn’t hear it.

neither did he see the emotions quickly flashing in kaeya’s visible eye. and the blue haired man thanks the archons above for that (not that he was particularly fond of them; but he had to thank someone for this miracle. although, maybe thanking this godawful alcohol diluc was drinking was a better choice).

“i’m not drunk.”

“yeah, you sure aren’t, my dear brother,” kaeya deadpans when diluc’s head almost land on the table. archons, he always knew he was a lightweight, but this? how much did he drink to get himself to this state, he wonders. and what even got him to drink. “oh? no denying to me calling you brother this time?”

there is silence between the two of them — two people whose misunderstandings and grudges got the best of them. they were both at fault; but they would never admit it. the ragnvindrs always had trouble with pride. and the brothers were no exception to that.

“you know what? i miss you. i miss my brother,” diluc ragnvindr throws out of himself. and it feels nice. it feels nice to finally say it — to say something he would never utter to do if he wasn’t under the influence of alcohol. diluc ragnvindr is a coward and he knows it — and he also knows he won’t remember anything from today. hell, he’s already beginning to forget things. he doesn’t look at the calvary captain nor does he lift his head. he simply chugs down on the rest of his drink.

kaeya sits silently; as if stunned, not daring to utter a word, too scared to pop this bubble, this imagination, because how many times did he dream of diluc ragnvindr calling him his brother again? how many times did he wish of being seen as family again?

“that’s a sweet confession, but i’d like to hear that when you’re sober,” he nonchalantly says, as if his throat didn’t get clogged up and his eyes teary.

“but we are brothers, are we not? actually, why did you stop using ragnvindr as your surname, huh? it’s yours to use, still. we’re family. or more like we were family,” he adds under his breath. they were family, once.

kaeya ragnvindr.

he longed for it. he longed for that surname or, to be more precise, for the feeling of belonging somewhere, to something, to someone. he longed for a home, a home where he could feel at peace, a home where he could shed all the masks and all the secrets. a home where he wouldn’t be anyone but just kaeya. no one more and no one less.

just kaeya.

and he once felt that way — before he decided to destroy it, envelop himself within the icy torrents and cutting himself from the outside world. yes, kaeya ragnvindr was a person he buried a long, long time ago. it was a child that died under the scorching flames and burning fire on that fateful day.

“…come on, brother. i’ll get you home. you’ve had enough,” the cryo user decides against diluc’s protests.

mondstadt is silent. there is no light in the windows and no chatter usually filling the streets. they must’ve spent more time in there than he thought they did. it’s peaceful. it’s quiet.

it’s nice.

“it reminds me of when we were kids. you remember? when you used to get so… so… tired and i’d have to carry you back home… and…” the redhead tries to talk, but his words only become more and more slurred. he’s falling asleep, kaeya realizes and he sighs thinking that he’d have to drag his brother’s unconscious body all the way to dawn winery. diluc was always the stronger one — but maybe, that has changed over the years. a lot of things did.

take care of one another, now, crepus used to say to them, day by day, month by month, year by year. brotherly bonds are not that easy to break.

i’m sorry, he whispers into the cold night, with his brother’s warm body slumped over his. he’s not sure who he’s apologizing to; there is no witness in sight, no spectator except the wind blowing and rustling up the leaves on the ground.

( it’s alright, child. you’ve done enough. )

( and for the first time in a very long time, kaeya ragnvindr or kaeya alberich; whoever he once was and whoever he was about to become, sighed a sigh of relief. )

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 (𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔)

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.4k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers (yes kinich literally invented this trope okay. sue me), mini-drabbles, childhood to university, modern!au, fluff and slight angst, lots of bantering but it's light-hearted i promise

summary.

you've always been a sore loser—kinich is just the only one brave enough to say it. or, you and kinich fall in love over the course of your lives, and one thing never changes—you're both idiots

author's note. credit to @/scythidol for the header images! a bit of a different fic format this time (who is she....). i'm sick over kinich, i have nothing clever to say or excuses to make. that's all, thank you for reading! i'm finishing this at 5am so i'll fix any errors later lol. reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

I.

“You’re annoying.”

The old TV in your backyard treehouse buzzes with static and the constant thumps of Kinich’s fingers against the controller buttons.

It’s a summer evening—crickets chirp merrily in the grass and lightning bugs float lazily through the air, glowing among the stars. You’re sitting next to him, knees pulled to your chest and the straw of a Capri-Sun settled between your lips.

His reaction (or lack thereof) to your words leaves you less than entertained, a sour pout fixed on your lips as he sighs.

“You’re a sore loser. We said whoever got up here first got to play first.” Despite the intense game occurring on the screen in front of him, he diverts about half his attention to watching you out of the corner of his eye. “And I got up here first.”

“But you always win,” you whine. Kinich nudges at his own juice box with his knee, and you roll your eyes before picking it up and holding it to his lips—he drinks gratefully, still focused on his game. You’re not sure why you keep agreeing to this bet; you don’t think you’ve ever won.

“Then you need to get faster.”

Both of you know that such a feat would be impossible—Kinich has been the fastest kid in your grade since you started school. His athleticism affords him a bit of popularity, still at the age where winning a playground race is essentially the deciding factor between the cool kids and the lame ones. But he’s not interested in any of that, and he makes that quite clear in his actions.

After all, all the popular kids avoid him since he started a fight with them last year. 

“They were saying things about you,” he’d shrugged, like it was no big deal. The school seemed to think a bit differently, and his suspension felt like the longest week of your life.

The screen flashes then, a loud and colorful display that shows the words “you win”. Kinich leans back in his seat, a pleased half-smile spreading across his face. 

“Okay, now you can play.”

He tries to hand you the controller, but you huff, crossing your arms and turning away.

“I don’t even wanna play anymore.”

Kinich is far more mature than you at this age—even your own mother tells you as much—so he merely sighs, accepting of your tantrum.

“Okay, what do you wanna do then?”

You ponder that for a moment. There’s a lot of things you do often, but many of them are things that Kinich is much better at than you. Playing video games, climbing trees, riding bikes—he’s far more talented at them all. It’s one of the reasons you even became friends in the first place—you’d practically begged him to teach you to beat the final boss of Super Mario Galaxy, and the rest was history.

“I don’t know,” you mumble noncommittally, blowing your straw wrapper at him. It lands right on target, bouncing lightly off his forehead as he rolls his eyes.

“Come on, whatever you wanna do, we’ll do it,” he says, poking at your cheek. “I’ll even play house.”

And you know Kinich hates playing house—he has boundless amounts of energy most days, and house isn’t “challenging” enough of a game for him to expend it. But he does it occasionally, just for you.

You brighten at the prospect. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, already descending the treehouse ladder, waving you along. “Let’s go inside first, though. I’m hungry.”

Scrambling to your feet, you jump down to meet Kinich, already standing in the grass.

“Last one inside is a rotten egg!”

II.

The rainstorm ends just as classes dismiss—when you walk out the school entrance, a slight drizzle is still letting up, fresh puddles lapping at your toes. Kinich’s gaze finds you instantly as he slinks out of the school gates, bag tossed loosely over his shoulder.

“My socks are wet now,” you whine, patting down the edges of your skirt to look down at your shoes. You’d only just bought them recently, and your mom likely wouldn’t be pleased with the prospect of you ruining them so soon.

Kinich chuckles at first, a snarky sound as thick as the gathering clouds, only to sigh when your pout persists.

“Alright, alright,” he relents, squatting to the ground and gesturing for you to get on his back. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

He’s a bit frail, still in his growing phase—his bones and muscles shift rhythmically under his skin as he walks—but he’s so distinctly warm. The heat makes you curl closer, nose brushing against his neck.

He walks you home most days like this, spending the day at your house until the sky grows dark with dusk. His home life is something he rarely discusses, but you know enough, and you’re happy to welcome him to yours.

“You’re slow,” you mumble into his shoulder. The steady thump of his steps is comforting, nearly putting you to sleep.

“You’re heavy,” Kinich replies teasingly, adjusting your weight atop his back. His words are biting, but he’s being careful with his steps nonetheless, taking each one lightly so as not to jostle you.

“You’re rude,” you scoff back. His nose scrunches in annoyance when you loop your arms tighter around his neck, pretending to choke him as punishment. “You’re not supposed to say that to a girl.”

He blows his bangs out of his eyes, peering up at the newly visible sun that starts to dip low in the sky. You watch a cat scurry through the bushes to your right, golden eyes peering through the foliage before disappearing into the darkness. 

“Yeah, that’s why I’m saying it to you.”

Kinich is always a bit wittier than you, a bit quicker to the punch, but you like that about him. You like a lot of things about him, and you’re sure he knows it, too. A weighty silence settles between the two of you, unnatural—it’s usually you who fills the silence, and Kinich who patiently listens.

But something bigger sits at the back of your mind, and the words are having trouble surmounting the obstacle of your tongue. 

You’re still floundering for something to say by the time your house appears in the distance. The sight lights a fire under you—you don’t want to discuss something like this with your mother in earshot. You force the words out, voice weak and small.

“I heard Mualani confessed to you yesterday.”

The rumor had flown through the school like wildfire. Mualani is popular with the boys after all, so there’s bound to be quite a bit of heartbreak if she ends up in a relationship. Someone had seen them together at that sakura tree behind the school, and it instantly became a hot topic—it’s all you’ve heard about all day.

And though you know it’s not really any of your business, you can’t help but be curious, and the thought fills you with dread.

You manage a glance at his expression, searching for any sort of unrest, but he doesn’t show any at all. In fact, he seems wholly uninterested in the topic.

He shrugs. “Yeah, so?”

You take a deep breath for courage—you’re not sure you want to hear his answer. 

“So? What did you tell her?”

And it’s nothing against Mualani, really—she’s kind and beautiful, and you wouldn’t blame Kinich for falling for her. She’s never done anything wrong to you at all. But a beat passes, and you’re already halfway through mourning the end of your long-time crush when he replies.

“I told her I was flattered, but I wasn’t interested.”

A sigh of relief escapes you then, but you reel it in quickly—he can probably feel you relax against his back at his response.

“Oh,” is all you say, as aloof as you can manage. Kinich latches onto your hesitation instantly.

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” comes your hasty reply. “...Is there any reason you said no, though?”

He frowns. “I don’t know. She just isn’t my type.”

“...Then what is your type?”

You’re going too far, you know—even just speaking the words has your chest twisting painfully, and you want to crawl into a hole and disappear. If Kinich isn’t an idiot, he can surely tell why you’re practically breathing down his neck over the whole thing.

But maybe Kinich is a little bit of an idiot, at least about these things, because he merely shrugs.

“Not sure. Never really thought about it.”

A frost unfurls in your chest, bitter—of course Kinich wouldn’t know, he’s never thought about anyone that way. Including you.

“Right.” You attempt a laugh, teeth gritting. “It’s all stupid anyway.”

You drop your head into his shoulder, trying to hide the pained expression on your face, and only then does Kinich’s stare flicker to you, soft.

“Right,” he says, a quiet rumble from his chest. “It’s really, really stupid.”

III.

Walks turn to drives when Kinich turns sixteen and buys his own car.

He’d saved up for months, working part-time jobs on weekends and after school, until the day finally came when he pulled up into your driveway, keys in hand. Your mom had been overwhelmingly proud—bought a cake and everything—and you’d merely been grateful that you no longer had to beg her to drive you places. 

It’s nothing crazy, just a simple sedan, but it represents a freedom that the two of you have never experienced together before.

That’s how you end up parked underneath the flickering streetlight just outside your house, excitedly recounting a story to your best friend. He’d driven you home from your club after school, an errand that always ended in several other stops—today, it had been fast food and boba.

His eyes seem to glow in the fading daylight, a pretty jade and amber that you’ve always thought was beautiful. It feels a bit more intense with his stare trained on you—Kinich isn’t the talkative type, sure, but he always ensures that you know he’s listening.

“So then she was asking me about you.”

“Mhm.”

“And get this,” a nervous chuckle escapes you then, “she thought we were dating.”

Everything falls still.

It’s times like this that you really start to hate just how unreadable your best friend can be. Despite how much you tease him for it, you actually enjoy how difficult it can be to force an expression out of him—it’s a little challenge every day. But now, when you’re on the precipice of pouring your heart out, his impassive expression stings.

Nothing on his face changes, save for a slight tilt of his head—he’s considering your words. The silence feels endless; a lump starts to form in your throat, humiliation burning at your cheeks. 

“I know, it’s so ridiculous,” you assert hurriedly, trying to avoid the rush of shame. “I mean, we would never—”

“Tell her we are, then.”

You’re sure that in that moment, your heart stops. 

Truthfully, you hadn’t planned to get this far—you were planning on brushing over that part of the story and moving on, but something deep in your heart had forced it out of you. Now, you aren’t sure what you really want to happen.

It’s always been your underlying fear, that once Kinich finds out, everything will change. Or even if he does return your feelings, it’ll all go up in flames eventually and you’ll never be the same. It’s terrifying enough to have kept your mouth shut all these years.

A tense laugh erupts from your throat, cutting through the silence. “I—I mean, it’s not that simple—”

He arches a brow. “Do you not want to?”

That’s another difference between you and Kinich—he’s far more straightforward about getting things that he wants. It’s one of the reasons that people misinterpret him as cold, but he sees it as being logical.

You gnaw at your lip, fingers tracing over the car door. Do you?

If the countless daydreams and romantic notebook doodles are anything to go by, you do. You really do. You’re just not sure if you’re brave enough to take that step.

When you look at him again, he’s observing you carefully, a delicate fondness lying in his stare. You shrink under the weight of it.

“No, I do,” you admit quietly. 

The moment falls still, and your eyes are drawn to the only movement within your line of vision—the quick bob of Kinich’s throat. Then, his hand advances toward your face at a measured pace, giving you endless opportunities to retreat.

Of course, you don’t.

“Can I…?” he asks, barely a brush of a whisper. The tension runs thick in the air as his tongue peeks out, swiping over his bottom lip at a tantalizing pace. It’s nearly enough to drive you crazy, but you know he’s just as anxious.

“Yes,” you breathe, wincing at the sound of your own voice—it sounds almost too eager.

But Kinich presses his lips to yours all the same, soft and wanting, and your heart flutters in your chest. It’s a chaste kiss, nothing like the fireworks-exploding-making-out-with-tongue types you’ve seen on TV, but it’s just right—it feels like him, and that’s all that matters. He pulls away slightly, lips still millimeters away from yours.

“I like you. If I’m not wrong, you like me too. I think it’s that simple.”

You almost want to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Though you’d never admit it, you’ve practiced this scenario thousands of times in front of your bedroom mirror—what you would say to him, what he might say to you. Leave it to Kinich to not follow the script.

But he’s always done things his own way, so really, you should’ve expected this.

Gently, he reaches for your hand, fingers slotting through yours with ease. You sigh.

“I guess it is.”

IV.

“...that far, huh?”

Kinich stares at you upside down, head dangling off the edge of your bed as you sit at your desk, laptop keys clicking rapidly. He knows you’re serious about your future goals; you both are. He just never imagined it would bring the two of you so far apart.

You pause with one hand resting on the mouse, still staring at the screen. The map looks so daunting, too daunting, and you can’t imagine being that far away from him. 

An awkward, weighted silence hangs in the air, and by the time a few seconds pass, you’ve already foreseen eighty different bad endings for this situation. Clearing your throat once, you force yourself to speak.

“Kinich, I—”

“I get it.”

He doesn’t mean to interrupt you so suddenly, but he does. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried. Because while he does understand—he really does—he also can’t help the stinging sensation of tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. It feels pathetic. It feels selfish. Here you are, chasing your dreams and supporting his, and he’s caught on the fact that there will be a little space between the two of you. And it’s not like it’s anyone’s fault, but maybe you’ll get tired of waiting and—

“You’ll come back to me, right?”

There’s an unmistakable thickness to your voice, evidence of the steadily growing lump in your weary throat. It grows larger with every passing second, an insurmountable mass dwarfed only by the impending distance between you and him.

That question catches Kinich off-guard, and he nearly wants to laugh then; not because he doubts you at all, but because he doesn’t, and he finds it ridiculous that you would ever think otherwise. Here you are, worrying about him.

Kinich doesn’t have any doubts or fears. He never does when he’s with you.

Maybe that’s why.

With a light laugh, he lets his eyes flutter closed, finally allowing an uneven breath to fill his lungs. The natural light outside is slowly dimming, the fluorescent lamps dotting your street flicking on one by one. He knows he should go home soon. His car is sitting outside, the same one the two of you have had endless adventures, fights, and make-ups in. It’s the same one he will use when he moves an unfathomable distance away from you. The same one he will use on the day you will cry, clinging to him like your life depends on it, before watching him disappear into nothing but a mere dot in the distance.

His fist clenches at his side. 

But you’re still here, the closest feeling he has to home, and you’re still in love with him, and he is still in love with you.

Maybe that’s why this is enough, for now. 

Turning onto his stomach, Kinich sees you right-side up this time, and it’s like nothing has changed.

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” 

V.

A knock echoes on your apartment door in the middle of the night.

You raise a brow at the sound, a bit unnerved—a lone college girl answering the door in the dark isn’t the safest thing, you think as you peek one eye through the peephole. But there’s a familiar figure standing outside, and it has your hand turning the knob immediately and flinging the door open.

He’s here.

“Kinich,” you breathe, in disbelief. Last you’d heard, he was somewhere halfway across the country, and certainly nowhere near your front door. But he’s here, in a black hoodie and grey sweatpants, looking like he’s just walked out of your dreams.

“Hey,” he says simply, as if his appearance hadn’t been totally shocking. He takes advantage of your shell-shocked state to invite himself inside, curiously looking through your apartment. “Nice place.”

You step aside in a daze. “Kinich—you—what are you doing here?”

He’s holding three flimsy bags in his fist, grocery store logos and restaurant labels stamped over the plastic, keys hanging off his pinky finger. He’d come prepared, clearly, but for what you’re not sure. 

He towers over you a bit more than he used to, hair a bit longer, and everything about him feels so grown up. It reminds you of all the moments the two of you have missed over the years, how much change has occurred beneath your nose, maybe without you realizing. 

He spreads the bags over your kitchen table—the mouth-watering smell of Chinese takeout filters through the air, and your stomach grumbles in reply. But it’s your tear ducts that react initially, a sting at the corners of your eyes as you squeeze them shut.

Kinich doesn’t notice at first, absorbed in inspecting the photos displayed on your wall—photos of you, photos of him, photos of the two of you together. It makes his chest warm that you still think about those times. He does too—after all, it’s rare that you leave his mind.

But he turns back to you, tears running rivers down your cheeks, and his breath hitches.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, carefully cupping your face. A lilt of panic laces his voice. “Does something hurt? Are you sick?”

“You’re here,” you sob, curling into his shoulder. None of it feels real. He’s warm and firm beneath your fingers, and you clutch at him tighter, half-expecting everything to disappear. It’s so much different than FaceTime or calling or anything else you do when he’s away. Because right now, he’s completely within your reach, and everything falls into place.

“Of course I am,” he murmurs. You cry into his hoodie, soaking the fabric with your tears, but he holds you close all the same. “Because you’re here.”

You spend a few minutes that way—you crying until your tears dry over your skin, and him comfortingly rubbing at your back. Air slowly returns to your lungs, and you sniffle, glassy eyes meeting his. 

“But why? I mean, it’s the middle of the semester, isn’t it?”

A rare half-smirk graces his lips.

“We made a promise. I came back to you first. So I do believe that means that I win,” he says. If you weren’t so emotional, you might have rolled your eyes—of course, all he ever focuses on is winning.

He drags you over to the couch, laying down and pulling you on top of him, safe. You draw closer to him, tangling your limbs together until you’re not sure where he ends and you begin.

“You’re annoying,” you whisper, muffled into his chest.

Kinich shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“You’re still a sore loser. Thought you’d grow out of that by now.”

You grumble a few choice words at him, and he smiles—a sight that only you and the stars can claim to have ever seen.

And he’s right; you are a sore loser, and he’s been right just about every time he told you so. But you find it doesn’t matter, not really.

You could never win against Kinich anyway.

(Maybe you never wanted to.)

Okay seriously. Reblog if you're OLDER than 11.

after the war, katsuki is sosososo SO much softer.

and he's so good at dealing with your tantrums and little hissy fits. he's so gentle and patient, letting you scream and threaten him cuz he knows none of that shit's true. he does draw the line when you start angry crying though, he hates that, won't sit through it cuz it literally hurts him.

dont get me wrong though, he definitely lets you know when you're being a pain in the ass over nothing. he humbles you, but never tries to embarrass you, or make you feel belittled. he loves you gently and truly, because that's what he unknowingly needed before he met you.

you're the only one that can tame diluc's anger. reader is called 'lady' but other than that no pronouns are mentioned, fluff, diluc being a softie in this, 1.2k wc.

your husband is notorious for being the stoic, level-headed character that he is. unperturbed by all things so long as mondstadt was safe and at peace, and when the city had someone as diligent as diluc protecting it, there was virtually nothing that ever made him falter. as much as you love and adore his rationality and straightforwardness, there was nothing that you hated more than his unwillingness to compromise in an argument.

his bullheadedness caused you to storm out of the manor, trek through the expansive fields of the winery in order to reach mondstadt. there, you calmed yourself down with a quick bite from good hunter before heading to the library because a quick rant to lisa would generally soothe the anger you felt. 

however, your original plans of returning to the winery changed when a book that was recently returned caught your eye. noticing your fleeting glance, the electro-user recommends it, detailing its popularity and captivating storyline.

when lisa feels so passionate about something, how could you not be curious? she rarely gets a sentence out without a yawn nowadays so to hear her speak animatedly about a book is bound to get your attention.

without a second thought, you postpone your plans of returning home and find a comfortable couch to sit on before reading.

you must have spent longer than planned, and a favonius soldier barging through the library doors indicates as such, whose expression so panicked you would have thought there was a hillichurl invasion. he takes a quick scan of the room and relief floods his posture when his eyes land on you.

“lady y/n, you must come with me this instant,” the soldier demands after a quick salute.

“what is the issue?” you ask, undeniably curious.

“master diluc is searching for you and i fear that he is very angry. not even barbara can calm him, some of flora’s flowers have been singed, and he might burn down monstadt next, please come with me before it’s too late!”

you know that the soldier is merely exaggerating because as long as you were in mondstadt, diluc would never dare harm the city. moreover, he would never dare lay a finger on the city he loves, but his anger is nothing to take lightly, and you understand the knight’s fear.

although, you really don’t want to meet your husband.

“fine, i suppose i can classify this matter as urgent,” you sigh. “lisa, could you please let me borrow this book? i’ll return it in two weeks.”

“not a problem dear. better run along now before your husband supposedly burns down the city,” the librarian waves her hand, beckoning you to go, so you do.

the knight leads you to the whereabouts of angel’s share and before you could even turn the corner, you hear a mix of kaeya and diluc’s voices.

“i don’t know where y/n is, which is why i have my knights running around to find-” exclaims the calvary captain, beginning to sound perplexed at his brother’s uncharacteristic display of irrationality and franticness. 

observing the scene, you see your husband right in kaeya’s face and suddenly you understand why the knight who brought you here was so frightened. the air had risen significantly in temperature and if you were a moment too late, he actually might have drawn out his claymore.

his red eyes glance behind the navy-haired to see you and in the blink of an eye, the red-haired pushes past the knights before storming down the street, right towards you. 

“where have you been?” diluc asks, stopping only two feet before you. the deep frown on his face is evident of his displeasure, but the concern swimming in his eyes tell you that you don’t need to be scared.

“i was reading in the library,” you gesture to the book you were holding. “enjoying a peaceful afternoon until i got word that you were creating a ruckus.”

the winery owner visibly relaxes, tension flooding from his shoulders whilst a gloved hand runs through his hair, causing his bangs to fall messily in front of his eyes. “let’s talk about this at home,” he states, tone returning to normal as he takes your book from your hand, his vacant hand finding yours. diluc’s grip is tight and unrelenting, leaving no room for you to slip away as he turns to apologise to the knights of favonius.

then, the two of you leave through the main gates. 

“are you still upset?” your husband asks and you squeeze his hand.

“a little,” you murmur before a small laugh escapes your lips, “but i wish you would have seen how terrified that knight was when he found me. it entertained me quite a bit, guess a thank you is in order for that.”

diluc doesn’t say anything but the guilt dripping from him is practically tangible, pooling around your feet and reminding you of the unpleasant argument you had earlier. as the sun begins to dip below the horizon and the sky turns a calming shade of orange, you realise just how long you spent away from him. no wonder why he was so frantic about finding you. 

“the next time you storm out of the winery, can you at least let me know where you are going?”

you laugh at his proposition, unsure of how to respond but he stops. you’re forced to stop too when his unwavering grip makes you turn and look in the ruby eyes that set ablaze in the gold of the setting sun. diluc’s beauty is truly undeniable, and it’s moment like these that make you feel a little jealous that he was graced with such a gift. 

“i’m serious, y/n, you worried me to end when you didn’t return after three hours. i thought something might have happened to you.” his gaze falls downward with his soft confession. “your safety is the most important thing to me, even when things between us are rocky, because- well, you know…”

your heart tightens and the step you take closer to him is instinctual, letting go of his hand to hold his face instead. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to worry you.”

“no, you have nothing to apologise for, it was my fault for being so unbearable in the first place,” the red-haired shakes his head, his hands finding a home on your waist. “i’m sorry too.”

“i forgive you,” you hover a kiss over his nose, causing it to scrunch at the sensation. when you lean back, the softness in his eyes and smile is unmatched and you’re grateful that you’re the only one with the luxury of seeing him as such. the only person he’s let into his kingdom of concrete walls is you, gifting you a more vulnerable side of him that the rest of the world has not seen in years. 

“i love you,” you murmur and diluc hums, tapping your waist three times in response. “oh but diluc, you must tell me how worried you were over me, i think i deserve to know.” 

the red-haired rolls his eyes before dragging you down the hilly path back home. you are perhaps the only one in mondstadt who could perplex him to no end, but that is just another testament of the love he holds for you. 

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[3:02 AM - SUNA]

suna grunts softly as he crouches on the balcony, quickly but quietly pushing up the stiff window.

it feels like forever until he finally opens it up wide enough to fit though, but it's the last thing on his mind as he pushes his legs in first, and slips into your room.

he closes the window behind him, before giving the room a once over. a few vanilla candles are lit, but the room is still dark, and he can't see a thing.

he walks over to where he remembers your bedside lamp being, and flicks it on.

his eyes roam over to your bed first — technically the one you should be asleep in at 3 in the morning — but he isn't surprised when he doesn't see you.

he instinctively walks to your closet, but pauses outside.

"y/n?" he calls out softly, placing a hand on the cool metal of the doorknob. "can i come in, pretty?"

he's answered with a quiet sniffle, then a mumbled, "no."

suna sighs calmly and crouches down, his fingers intwined. "what happened, y/n?"

you don't respond, but suna has enough patience to cover the world when it comes to you, so he takes off his sweater, sits down on the carpet, and waits.

five minutes pass until a sob breaks out from behind the door, and suna's head darts up. between shaky sobs, suna makes out: "it was just a dream, but it felt so real."

but you're crying again, and suna can't quite figure out what to do.

"the way you said her name, rin, it hurt so much. the way you looked at her; you only ever look at me like that."

suna shuts his eyes, and runs a hand down his face. "can i open the door?"

"you know what scares me the most? that all the things we do together, one day, you'll do them with someone else. everything that's special to us will be special to another girl."

suna stands up, twists the doorknob, and pulls it open.

flicking on the light switch, he looks down to find you crisscrossed on the floor, puffy eyes and puffy cheeks, and tears streaming down your face.

he kneels down in front of you, and cups your damp cheeks with both of his hands. your lips fold in as your face crumbles once more, another wave of tears and sobs coming in.

"y/n," he sighs, pulling you into him as you sob against his chest, fisting his shirt in your hands. "the things that are special to us, will always only be ours. they'll never be for anyone else, because there never will be anyone else. our special things will always be our own."

your body trembles and shakes as you cry against him, but suna holds you tight, leaving kisses after kisses on your head to soothe you.

suna is always there to soothe you.

of course he'll miss a few tears, and sometimes he won't be there when you wake up calling for him, but he'll catch the next bus to your house, or walk the mile if he has to. he'll climb balconies and jump through windows at 3 in the morning to catch your tears and cuddle you back to sleep, or even stay with you until day break to fight them off if he has to.

"there will never be anyone better for us than each other, my pretty girl. there will never be anyone like you for me."

you're falling asleep in his arms, the kisses on your head slowly coming to a stop.

as suna carries you back into bed, he prays that the universe will be a little lighter on you.

this is an almost retelling of something that happened just the other day with me and my boyfriend, so i guess this is just a little appreciation post for him, because life has been so good after him. we have our rough patches and i am a handful, but he's always so patient and understanding for me, and is always willing to adapt and change to work with me, as am i. i'm so thankful for him, and i love him so much.

tending to their wounds

they cannot evade death. but with you around, they're invincible.

feat. albedo, childe, diluc, kaeya, kazuha, xiao

genre : headcanons, fluff, angst [for xiao and kazuha], hurt/comfort

warnings : blood and injury. death mention. minor cursing.

❀ albedo

it's to no one's surprise that albedo isn't human, meaning he doesn't have the same bodily functions as the others in mondstadt do. his body cannot bleed nor can he feel much pain. that's not to say he can't at all, but a simple prick from a piece of shattered flask can't really do the young alchemist any harm.

flasks breaking or nicking himself while conducting his own research never really phased the alchemist. despite the warnings his assistant gave him about laboratory safety, he didn't need to heed them if the injuries didn't apply to him, did he?

it's safe to say that the chief alchemist is... perplexed to say the least at seeing you worry over him. he wasn't expecting you to come rushing through his laboratory door when you heard the sound of falling glass and nearly climbed over all of his equipment to come to his aid.

"really, you shouldn't have to worry," his gentle voice reassures you, but his attempts to calm you down are futile. instead, albedo is met with your furrowed brows in concentration and your fingers brushing against his as you inspect his invisible wounds.

"yeah well, maybe if you were more careful in your laboratory i wouldn't be here worrying over you, would i?" albedo sighs at your response and decides to let you do as you please to his 'injuries.'

the alchemist's teal eyes follow your movements as you reach for the bandages in the first aid kit and begin to wrap them around his finger tips. he doesn't miss the way your tongue pokes out from between your lips as you concentrate on the task in front of you.

despite not needing to worry much about him, albedo finds it endearing that you care so much about his wellbeing. how much you care about him, how often you check up on him and make sure he never overworks himself. you truly are a caring individual, a ray of warm sunshine in his life.

you meet albedo's gaze when your name leaves his lips, eyes filled with curiosity at what he could possibly want.

"thank you for tending to me." he thanks you with tender smile on his face, his spare hand gently ruffling your hair. the flustered expression on your face is hard to miss, especially when you quickly duck your head down and away from the alchemist.

you stutter out that 'this is nothing!' and continue on wrapping albedo's faux injuries. though, the alchemist finds the way your hands shake as they brush against his skin adorable.

❀ childe

childe is a war criminal, in case you missed it. it's not uncommon to find the young man fighting an entire hoard of enemies by himself. the thrill of battle never seems to be enough for him, as he constantly seeks anything that could satiate his need for exhilaration.

finding scars or fresh injuries on the harbinger is the usual for you, regardless of whether or not they're shallow wounds or deep gashes that gush blood and stain your poor floor. not that childe minds anyways, he sees his battle scars as medals of the many fights he has won and wears them with pride.

but, despite being one of the fatui harbingers and an absolute beast on the battlefield, that doesn't stop you from worrying about his wellbeing.

your brows furrow in concern at the sight of childe in front of you; body worn from using his foul legacy form one too many times in succession and injuries sustained from his earlier fight. he shouldn't have protected you, really you could have protected yourself. and yet...

"you're going to ruin yourself if you keep going into your other form all the time, you know." childe laughs weakly at your lecturing; that's all he can do right now anyways. you catch your lip in between your teeth as you rub a cooling ointment on the harbinger's body. "this isn't funny. you can't just die. then no one would be the eleventh harbinger and you-"

"i would leave you alone?" childe smiles when you send him a glare. his rough hand finds yours, squeezing it lightly in reassurance. there's not a chance in the world that he would succumb to death just yet. childe is still young, and there are many others that he hasn't had the pleasure of fighting against.

and he sure as abyss can’t pass away without saying how he truly feels about you.

you grumble to the snezhnayan that you could've handled it all alone, that you didn't need him to go all berserk on the ruin guards that had surrounded you earlier. instead, childe laughs and places a weak hand on your forearm. "i know, but that was the perfect time to show you just how well i can fight. maybe then, you'll finally accept my feelings."

a white lie, really. even though childe knows that you could've handled it yourself, he acted on instinct back then. the thought of you being harmed in any way sends a chill down the harbinger's spine. he wouldn't forgive himself if he reacted a second too late and you ended up hurt as a consequence.

what's the point of harboring the power of the abyss if he couldn't protect the ones he loved.

you roll your eyes at his answer, choosing to quietly resume cleaning up childe's wounds in hopes that he doesn't say anything more embarrassing. as your fingers brush against the snezhnayan's freckled skin, you don't miss the way he leans towards your touch and the happy hum rumbling from his chest.

❀ diluc

the darknight hero is not one to lose his battles, let alone allow any of his enemies lay a finger on him. trained by the knights and his own father, diluc's fighting style is difficult to intercept and finding a weak spot in his defense is futile. even if his sword is too slow, his fists will be glad to meet those that oppose him.

that isn't to say he doesn't get hurt every now and then. you've caught him with bandages wrapped around his hand, blood soaked gauze around his torso. as long as the job was done, diluc didn't mind the wounds he received in battle.

he isn't used to others tending to his wounds, as nobody really knows he's the darknight hero and protects mondstadt in the middle of the night. so when you catch him in the act of cleaning his wounds and offer to help, he kind of freezes up.

diluc wants to decline your offer, sure that he could finish this up by himself. and besides, he doesn't want to burden you with his consequences so late at night. but he knows you would keep bugging him and complain later that he didn't "love you" or whatever dramatic act you'd be committing in the near future.

it's hard to look at you when you're so close to the red haired vigilante. granted, diluc has always been pretty close with you, seeing as the two of you grew up together and shared most of your memories with one another (and kaeya).

but being physically close to you... is another story. your fingers lightly touching his skin, your face so close to his as you inspect other wounds on his body, your hands roaming the expanse of his chest to remove his shirt in case it hid any other injuries you could have missed.

diluc's hands twitch when you inch even closer to him. if he wanted to, it would take one swift movement to have his lips on yours. one swift movement to hold you in his arms and feel the way your skin melts into his.

but the vigilante has self-control and would rather die than make you uncomfortable.

diluc releases a shaky breath when you finally move away from his body, though it's only a brief moment of respite since you immediately move back into your previous position after grabbing more bandages. absolutely perfect for the poor vigilante.

he clears his throat when your hands slide down his arms to reassure the pressure is enough to keep his wounds from reopening and bleeding out. it is then that you realize what you've been doing to the poor red haired man and how close you've been to him and his body.

"oh? what could you possibly be thinking about, mr. ragnvindr?" you tease, raising an eyebrow and sending diluc a playful smile. you fail to suppress your laughter when he scrunches up his face and turns his face away from you, his ears burning a wonderful shade of bright pink.

"i think it's time for you to leave." shocked, you try and apologize and get him to let you stay a little bit more. the night is still young, and he still has more injuries to be looked at! but diluc pays you no mind.

not like he'd have the heart to actually kick you out of his room anyways.

❀ kaeya

the captain of the calvary isn't one to fight, always looking for people to do his dirty work so he doesn't have to. why bother exerting more energy than you already have when you can make others do it for you? it's more fun that way, anyways.

that doesn't mean kaeya is incapable of fighting. if needed to, the blue haired captain would gladly point his sword at the enemy to keep them at bay or spar a fellow knight. scratches and shallow scrapes are what you mostly see from him.

you aren't expecting to be called into the knights of favonius headquarters and be greeted by the calvary captain battered up and bruised in the infirmary.

"you're squeezing me too hard," kaeya comments nonchalantly, as if he isn't bleeding to death on the bed right now. "you'll cut off circulation in my arm if you keep doing that." you shoot him a glare, but the blue haired captain only laughs at you. you tighten the bandage on his arm.

you refuse to get tangled up in anymore of kaeya's antics. it's all his fault you've aged ten years because of him and his stupid actions and refusing to ask for help despite the mission being bigger than anyone could handle. alone at least. it's not like you don't trust him, but a little extra help isn't bad to have.

your frown deepens when your eyes flit up to stare at the blood soaked shirt covering kaeya's chest. you order him to take it off so you can inspect his injury, which was a mistake on your part.

"oh? shouldn't you ask me on a date first before being this forward?" kaeya's laughter rings around the infirmary seeing your deadpan expression at his joke. maybe you should just leave, just leave this stupid man to bleed to death on this infirmary bed. maybe then you would finally be at peace.

"well. maybe i would have asked you on a date if you weren't so stupid to take this dumb mission alone. you could have died, asshole." kaeya only hums in response, which pisses you off even more. it's like he didn't have a care in the world.

in the midst of your grumblings and cleaning of kaeya's wounds, you miss the tender look he gives you; warm and gentle. the captain finds it nice to have someone care for someone like him after so long.

it wasn’t his fault he wanted to do this alone. well, it was, but it’s hard for kaeya to rely on others and be vulnerable to those around him despite how long he’s known them. his walls are built high, refusing to let anybody in in case he accidentally hurts them in the future.

he wonders if you'd miss him if he disappeared one day, but the way your brows furrow in concern at seeing how bad the gash in his chest confirms his answer.

kaeya’s endearing, warm smile is replaced with the usual smug smirk when you look up to meet his gaze. one day, he hopes he’ll be able to let his walls down around you.

"you know, you're really cute when you worry over me. maybe i should get injured more often." the look of shock at kaeya's comment is evident on your flustered face and it takes everything in him to not laugh and open up his wounds again.

❀ kazuha

kazuha isn't one to easily get injured, well at least seriously injured. he was raised by a prestigious family, trained in the arts of the kaedehara clan. with the help of his prior knowledge of fighting and his keen senses, it's hard to one-up the young man to the point of injury.

that isn't to say he has never sustained any injuries. there have been one too many times that the inazuman traveller has shown up at your door with a couple of scrapes and an apologetic smile on his face.

so, it's a surprise when you find kazuha at your doorstep severely injured and clutching something in his burned hand.

it's quiet between the two of you as your eyes scan kazuha's body for any more injuries and your hands quickly move to tend to his right hand. the skin is burnt, bleeding, and his fingers shake from the injuries it sustained.

you whisper an apology to the inazuman when you gently clean the wounded skin with a warm cloth. he doesn't flinch, dazed eyes still staring off in front of you. it makes you wonder what kazuha went through to be injured this badly. though, seeing as the only serious injury was his right hand, you assumed it wasn't from a fight.

"kazuha... what happened to you?" your words are gentle, afraid your voice would scare the inazuman traveller in front of you. kazuha doesn't respond and instead tightens the grip he has on your hand that's bandaging him. his hand is shaking, and you don't realize he's crying until you feel the wet teardrops on your skin.

ruby eyes glazed with tears meet your own when your eyes flick up to confirm that he was indeed crying.

"tomo..." the crack in his voice shatters your heart and you find yourself pulling kazuha into your arms. his own circle around you and his hands grip onto the back of your shirt as he buries his face into your shoulder.

kazuha's body shakes as he sobs at the loss of his friend. he must have held it in until he got to the safety of your home. you were always his safe haven; coming over so you could tend his light wounds and provide a roof over his head if he was passing by your village.

and yet all you can do now is hold him until the storm inside his heart passes by.

❀ xiao

being in pain or having many injuries litter the expanse of his skin isn't unusual for xiao. he's an adeptus whose sole purpose is to serve rex lapis and protect the citizens of liyue, even if it meant throwing his life away.

even then, sustaining larger, more painful wounds didn't make the adeptus bat an eye. despite how horrible it sounds, xiao is used to it all and takes each hit and laceration that comes his way without blinking an eye.

when karmic debt constantly takes a toll against your health and death is the only solution to reaching true peace, it's hard to care about the state of your own wellbeing.

so imagine xiao's surprise when he shows up at the wangshu inn battered and bruised from dealing with a hoard of monsters and seeing you standing in the yaksha's usual spot, waiting for him with a frown etched into your face.

nimble fingers work deftly against xiao's body, quickly cleaning up the lacerations on the adeptus' chest and the scrapes that cover his arms. xiao releases a hiss from the sting of the medicine and you apologize under your breath.

"i knew you would end up like this." your words come out harsher than you intend to. the adeptus doesn't respond. as long as he was the only casualty to come out of this, as long as the innocent lives of liyuens were protected, as long as you were safe behind the walls of the wangshuu inn, it didn't matter how badly his body was injured.

"i just... i just wished you weren't so careless, xiao." the way your voice breaks doesn't go unheard by the yaksha. his eyes snap forward, but your head is tilted down as your shaky fingers worked their way around xiao's torso. "you're always fighting as if no one cared if you died or disappeared one day."

xiao doesn't get it. he doesn't understand why you care about him so much. a being fated to suffer until his dying days are over, one cursed with karmic debt and forced to carry the burdens of the innocent lives he took in his past.

no one should care about him. a monster with blood on his hands.

but here you are, shedding tears for an adeptus who didn't deserve it. the sole yaksha who is fated to succumb to the sweet embrace of death at any given moment.

and yet, despite knowing he doesn't deserve your gentle touch brushing over his wounds, the young adeptus lifts your face with a gloved finger and brushes away the tears that flow down your cheeks. he longs to continue holding you, to feel your skin against his. you're his temporary solace from the karmic debt that hangs over his heart.

an apology slips past xiao's lips, and you cry harder, calling him 'stupid' for almost dying out there. you bury yourself in his chest and he hugs you, afraid that if he let go, you would be nothing but a dream.