Just wanted to say real quick you can drop any fic ideas you'd like to see in my askbox!!! It might be hard to believe but i actually don't just write about Diluc! Any genshin man is welcome (Just nothing nsfw please, i simply do not have such a skill). Or, you know, you can just come over and tell me about your favorite bird or something. I certainly won't be complaining.
3k+ words, Diluc x Fem Reader, Sfw, fluff mostly, nothing (too) bad happens to anyone and the things that do happen have happy endings, you and Diluc are pretty much married
There are descriptions of a fever induced sense of mind. Nothing too harsh but still be careful if you dont like that sort of stuff.
I wanted to write something small to busy myself while i though out ideas about the second part of this and it somehow turned out longer than i expected so here y'all go
Your eyes just could not seem to focus, and you were not sure why.
You were trying so hard, after all. And you wanted it so, so badly for them to focus. So why wouldnât they? Were you doing something wrong? They were your eyes, after all. They should listen to you. Shouldnât they? Were they your eyes? The question made a strange, completely irrational feeling of dread sink into your gut. It was a silly question, if not outright stupid. You knew they were your eyes! You knew that you were exactly where you were and you were looking at the scenery with your own two eyes and that what you saw with those eyes was indeed real, if a little blurry. Still, somehow and for some reason your mind wasn't working efficiently enough to comprehend, you seemed to be walking in a dream. You breathed harsher than you should need to; the real, familiar, beautiful view of Cinder Lake and the distant rooftops of Mondstadt might as well been figments of your imagination. If you could have forced your logic to claim that exhausted body as yours, you might have felt it shake as gently as the leaves against the wind.
You were alone, you were not sure why your eyes couldnât seem to focus, and you had no energy left to see yet alone talk to anyone. Seeking out company on your own accord would just be pushing yourself into an uncomfortable situation that you were not likely to come out of any better. Yes; seeking out company was a bad idea. Yet, as you stood with your bruised knees on the damp soil and your fingers among the grass, trying to convince yourself that you were here and alive, staying out here all alone felt like a death sentence. You wanted to lay your feverish temple against the cool ground and sleep forever. You got up and walked towards a destination set not by any conscious will but pure muscle memory.
The weather had been purified by the recent rainfall; the heatwave that had held the region in a chokehold for several weeks had broken. There was a crisp coolness in the air that no doubt every soul in that wonderful city was grateful for. The sun shone bright, but did not burn; the smell of new growth was in the air. What little clouds that remained up in the sky were not substantial enough to note. If only your eyes would focus, you could see fish rippling beneath the surface and birds flying gaily high above. It was a horrible day to feel like this. It was a horrible day not to be able to comprehend any of the blessings around you. What had happened? You loved seeing! You loved comprehending all the beauty around you! So why couldnât you now? What had changed? Had you done something wrong?
You did your best. You tried asking yourself why on earth your eyes wouldnât be your own, but the stabbing ache of fear remained firmly lodged under your ribs. As a second effort, you tried to ask yourself where you were going. The only answer you found within yourself was ââhomeââ, and that calmed you down somewhat. You were going home. Home was good. At home, you could sit down somewhere or maybe lay down or maybe sleep for a while and then make a renewed effort to try and focus your eyes. The fact that you were an adventurer and your home should have been the tent currently bunched up in your backpack did not occur to you. You did not question where you were going, why you were going or what you would do when you got there any further until the fruiting vineyards were in sight and you were so, so tired.
Despite your best efforts, your eyes still would not focus, and it was starting to make you rightfully frustrated. In actuality, it seemed to be getting worse. The audacity! They would have never existed if not for you! It was real ungrateful for them to up and stop working for no reason after youâd hauled them around your whole life. Lousy things, eyes. You hoped theyâd get themselves together once you reached home. You shivered as you trudged on. The weather sure was unpredictable these days. It seemed to get colder with every step; you almost wished the heatwave would come back.
You stopped. It seemed that every inch of your being had decided to betray you this day, for after walking so far, you could now do nothing but stop. Perhaps because youâd walked this far you could do nothing but stop. Perhaps you should have laid your temple against the ground and slept. The weather was so cold. You were not sure whether you wanted it colder or felt like stepping into a bonfire only to warm yourself up. You were not sure why your eyes wouldnât focus. You were not sure why you had stopped. You were sure, however, that there was some movement from the big building further up the slope. People?
You had time briefly to wonder what they were in such a rush about before your body hit the ground and all went black for good.
For a while, time had no meaning.
You woke up, panicked and unconsolable and frantic with the conviction the things you saw were no more real than any dream you could dream as someone pushed you as kindly as possible back down to the bed. You woke up and seemed able to feel, think or do nothing at all until sleep claimed you once again. You woke up and were forced to swallow water and some tasteless concoctions that would need a saintâs generosity to be called ââfoodââ. You woke up and light the color of fire leaked in from the gaps between curtains, and somebodyâs unglowed hand rested on your forehead as if checking your temperature. It was warm but you were not freezing nor boiling anymore, and as such felt only a slight discomfort at the added body heat. It was warm and it was comforting and you had a vague feeling that it meant you were safe, but you were not sure why. Then, after a day or a week or a whole age, after your sins had been forgiven and a new life for you granted, you woke up and could count every crack and splinter on the ceiling above.
Your eyes worked. Your body felt all too heavy, but you were alert and you breathed easy. Everything was well.
But where were you?
Grateful for at last having the capability to form coherent thoughts once again, you raised yourself up as much as you dared to and took a look around. It did not take you long to recognize the place. It was your room!
Your room? You inwardly scolded yourself for your instinctive possessiveness for the place. It was the guest room. The guest room of Dawn Winery. The guest room, where guests stayed. Which was exactly what you were, and always had been. And yet even as you rubbed your temple, making excuses to yourself, you knew that was not true - not anymore, at least.
This place had been neutral once, ready to be molded at a momentâs notice. A suite for visiting businessmen, a resting place for visiting merchants, a sanctuary for travelers with nowhere to lay their heads; it had hardly ever been empty of life in the days Crepus had reigned, you remember Diluc telling you once. When Kaeya was a boy, heâd slept here a few days before being transferred to the solar once it was decided heâd stay. For long years this room - which was packed with a double bed and armoire of matching heavy wood, a desk beside the window and a fireplace just across from the bed - had been, in essence, empty. It had been kept deliberately soulless, always ready to change hands. Nowadays a stranger stepping foot into it would feel like an intruder at best.
Without having to check, you knew your spare clothes covered the shelves; when you briefly bumped against the nightstand, it made a rattle you knew was born from your bits and pieces stored in its drawer. The desk, a magnificent piece of carpentry that must have cost a pretty penny, was marred not by the years but by ink stains forever ingrained on the surface by your (brief) attempts at studying calligraphy. Yes, this was your room. The rug was the newest item in the entire wing - purchased a short while back, the result of a passing comment youâd made about color scheme or something to that end. This was your room. So why did it feel so wrong to admit that?
Perhaps; you could hear the truth somewhere at the back of your mind; because laying claim to the house felt too close to laying claim to its master, and that was something you did not want to think about too much at the moment. Or ever, if absolutely everything in the world went your way all the time. Which they were not in the habit of doing. It wasnât that you didn't want to think about Diluc, not exactly, and you two were so close you werenât what one would call âreservedâ around him about any topic other than this, and even if you did think about it and talk about it and it turned out to be a disaster you knew damn well that he wasnât the type that would be mean about it afterwards -
âYou look better.â
Before you knew it, the man himself stood at the doorway, absentmindedly tugging on his glove, not quite stepping inside yet. Only after you made a vague gesture of welcome did he move closer to the bed. His coat was off, his hair tied slightly looser and lower than usual; and though he was still more than well-dressed by anyoneâs standards, you knew it was as indecent as he would get in front of you.
If Diluc had liked you less, he couldâve been more brazen. But with you being⌠you, he couldn't help trying to be his best dressed, best mannered self all the time. Which was, surprisingly enough, harder than it sounded. Partly because you had a way of making him too relaxed for his own good. Partly because you were simply infuriating sometimes. The worst part of the whole thing, however, was that no matter how mortified at his own behaviour heâd return to his bedchambers after an evening conversing with you or how hard heâd wish he could see inside your mind for a single moment just to figure out how on earth you manage to cultivate such notions, neither sensations was ever worse than the sinking feeling heâd get whenever youâd declare you were off to explore somewhere or another.
He never understood why you kept running off when you so easily couldâve stayed or at least let him accompany you. But he never stopped you, either. Yet that didnât stop him from leaving his office to wander around the halls when late nights found him restless, worrying about silly things like whether you were warm enough or not wherever you were, only slightly glaring at your room when he was sure no one was watching. Diluc hated your room. At first, he hadnât been sure why. He shouldâve adored it. His worst days were when you werenât in there, after all. It had taken a few weeks for him to figure out it was because he wouldâve liked you in his room instead.
(He had, unfortunately enough, been in your presence when that thought had occurred to him. Heâd been so horrified you hadnât seen him again until you began to suspect heâd either been murdered, fallen ill, or began despising you for no apparent reason. One would ask how thoroughly a person could avoid another while living in the same house. The answer was, taking into account the person in question was Diluc Ragnvindr and the house in question the Dawn Winery, âquite a lotâ. After a while his urge not to worry you had won out and heâd done his best to act like a normal person once again. Still, the intensity of that wish startled him sometimes.)
âFinally.â You muttered, with vehemence you hadnât realised you felt. âMy eyes were driving me insane.â
âYour eyes-â He cut himself off as quickly as heâd started, mostly since he wasnât sure how exactly heâd end that sentence. Heâd had you back for about two minutes and a half, and he was already remembering what it meant to be frustrated. He had never been happier in his life. On the other hand, you had spoken without considering your words too much and were praying he wouldnât inquire about it further. He looked worried enough without knowing what a weird state of mind youâd been in before finding yourself here. âYou- You almost died. We almost had to amputate your arm because the infection had become so severe.â
That⌠explained a lot of things, you had to admit. Like why everything had been so confusing just before youâd collapsed. Or why you were finding it so hard to move just about now. Or why that wound that youâd bandaged over and promptly ignored for the next several days had refused to heal.
And especially why, despite standing tall as ever and being freshly shaved and well-dressed by anyoneâs standards, Diluc looked like he was in need of a lengthy vacation. Or simply a good nap. He was horribly tired, you could tell. You had the faint urge to scold him for neglecting himself, but you had a feeling he wouldnât take it well just about now.
âIâm sorry.â The sentiment was genuine; you were sorry that you had worried him. Though, a most reprehensible part of you was somewhat flattered that you were so important to him as to be able to cause him such distress. You blinked rapidly a few times to clear your mind of such thoughts.
He sighed, yet it was more bluster than anything. You managed to make even anger a fond feeling when it was about you. âDonât be sorry. Be careful. You know how to take care of an injury just as well as i do. Why did you leave it in such a sorry state?â
âI was traveling.â It was not a good excuse and you knew it. But you were also aware that he knew just what a tiresome thing traveling was without the added care of stopping every two steps to change bandages and apply salves. Diluc, like many others who dared venture more than a few yards away from their birthplace at some point of their lifetime, understood well why the word had once been âtravailâ. You wouldâve had to stop and make camp with more than five daylight hours still left in the day if youâd wanted to properly disinfect it the day you got the cut. It would have hindered you greatly. Then youâd have to go out of your way to go where medicinal herbs grow, take the time to gather them, preserve some for later, waste precious drinking water preparing the pastesâŚ
It had been selfish, no doubt. You shouldâve stopped and taken the time to carefully clean, disinfect and stitch close the cut, no matter how paltry it might have been in your eyes. That was a fact; indisputable, unquestionable, irrefutable. You had been warned since the day you could walk on your own two legs that an infection was one of the easiest ways to die in this world, and had seen it first hand throughout the years.
But it would have hindered you greatly. And you had wanted only to make your way back to Mondstadt as quickly as possible.
He shook his head slightly, but the lines of his face had softened. He understood. You knew he understood. He understood that you had to go running off to ruins and oceans and forests deeper than any could imagine. That didn't necessarily mean he had to like it, though.
âWell, it is getting taken care of now, whether you like it or not.â He held up a roll of bandages and a dark colored glass tube about the size of his thumb. His eyes searched yours for a moment. â...Though i will call in Adelinde instead, if you wish me to.â
âNo, no. Itâs fine. Thank you, Diluc.â
âVery well.â
The desk chair scraped as he pulled it close to your side; his hands barely grazed your skin as he rolled up the sleeve of your nightgown and undid the woundâs coverings. You wished youâd had the energy to have changed into something more appropriate before he arrived, but you also did not have the heart to be too bashful. It was just Diluc, after all. And he kept his gaze flawlessly fixed on your arm and on your arm only. Now that your brain was less foggy, you were certain heâd been the one that had been by your side every time youâd woken up. It should have been surprising, but strangely enough, it was not. He was always by your side. He had been for a while now.
Without quite realising or meaning to, you had found yourself a husband in Mondstadtâs very own Master Diluc. The only problem left was how youâd get him to actually say the vows - or, rather, how youâd gather the courage to say out loud you want to be his wife. That was the hard part, really. Somehow, somewhere beyond your conscious mind, you already knew he felt the same. But there was no rush. For now, you could enjoy being doted on. You were home, after all.
You peeked down as he applied the medication. The skin encircling the wound was still a quite awful shade of rotten purple, but the pain you felt with the pressure from his fingers was less than you would have expected. You could tell it would soon start to fade. Diluc was bent over you, half on the chair with one of his legs on the bed next to yours. Because of the position he was in, all you could see as he worked was his hairline; he raised his head when he felt you looking. You smiled a tiny bit, and he smiled back. He always smiled back at you, no matter how subtle a change it was. More often than not, it was nothing but a crinkling in the sides of his eyes, a slight inclination of his features; at the best of days, you could see his surprisingly even teeth. Either way, it made a funny little flutter appear beneath your ribs.
âItâs good to know you listen to me every once in a while, at least.â Ever once in a while, the soft clicks of a door opening and closing was heard within the manor; if you focused really hard, you could hear the passing chatter of the maids as they passed each other on the way to some chore or another. Every footstep that came this way seemed to slow just outside your door, as if contemplating something, or trying not to make too much noise. You did not have to wait too long for Diluc to elaborate.
âAbout coming back, i mean. You did make it back here, after all. Not that i condone your methods of doing so.â You couldnât help but grin, despite flinching slightly as he tied the fresh bandage closed.
âOh? The great Diluc Ragnvindr does not condone my methods? How will i ever continue to live with the devastation his refusal had caused my poor old life, without as much as a place to call my own in this world-â uninterupted, you would have gone on for quite some time; not that the fact that you were lying perfectly content in the plush, warm bedspreads of the most luxurious estate in all of Mondstadt helped your case. Nor did you promptly spiraling into laughter at the incredulous look Diluc shot you, for that matter.
âCome on. You know iâm joking. Iâm grateful for all you do for me.â
âI know.â It was a declaration that mightâve been curt if his tone hadnât been so sickeningly fond. You had the urge to ask him to stay, but did not. He gave your hand a little squeeze before getting up.
âI have to go.â He let his eyes wander through the room as his hand lingered on the doorknob. â...iâll tell someone to bring up some firewood.â
âAlright.â
âItâs evening, anyways. You could get some more sleep, if you felt like it.â
âI might.â
âEven if you stay up, donât go wondering around yet. Iâll bring some books later, and you can always call for me or any of the household staff if you wish for company.â
âI know, Diluc. I know. Iâll be fine. Go do⌠whatever you do in that office of yours all day.â You did your best to sound lighthearted and elavate his worries. He still lingered where he shouldâve turned and left long ago.
â...be careful.â
You wanted to make a sarcastic remark that yes, youâd devote your entire concentration on not rolling off the soft bed onto the soft rug or bumping your foot against the desk leg. Yet he looked hesistant, waiting; he seemed to need to be assured about something much more substantial than your boredom or domestic incidents or even the cut on your arm. You just nod.
âI will.â
âGood.â
And with that, he was gone once again.
Š2026 rifleleon please don't repost my works on other sites, copy, modify, claim as your own or use for ai under any circumstances.
Sfw, random Diluc x reader thought, Angel's Share shenanigans
Kayea was silent that evening. Uncharacteristically silent. So silent, in fact, that a certain bard could not help but take notice. Not that it took a lot for him to go poking his nose into other people's affairs.
Venti took the time to thoroughly stare at the cavalry captain, who had been perched in one of the back tables in Angel's Share for the last half an hour or so without any company in sight. His eyebrows were pinched, he was barely sipping the drink clutched in his glowed hands; he did not as much as greet Venti as he neared his table (which was quite rude, but Venti could excuse it in light of the uncommon circumstances.) All very clear signs of agitation, the result of his analysis read. Which completely justified the fact that instead of pulling himself a chair and asking his friend what was on his mind like any normal person would, he dutifully stepped behind Kaeya's chair and squinted in the same direction in an effort to figure out just what on earth he was staring at. It did not take very long.
Because there you were, sitting right across Diluc who was on bartending duty today; the two of you chatting if it was usual occurrence for Diluc Rangvindr to just be chatting with someone. Nope. Absolutely not. And Venti knew that best, having been thrown out for asking the said man what his favorite season was the other night (but then again, that was perhaps caused by his personal dislike for Venti in particular. Still, the point stood.) And it only got stranger as he managed to pick out the conversation from the bustle of the tavern.
''Taking into account your higher than average understanding of manners (was that supposed to be a compliment? Venti whispered into Kaeya's ear. He nodded.) and my bold assumption that a general fondness for our acquaintanceship is mutual - if it is agreeable to you as it is to me, i would be more than pleased to receive you at the manor for dinner one of these days. With the best intentions, i assure youâŚ''
''Oh my-'' For what could have been the first time in his thousand year life, The Anemo Archon was at a loss for words. The things he heard took a good minute or so to really register in his mind. ''Oh my! they- what are they?'' He leaned toward Kaeya conspicuously.
''You are too kind, Master Diluc. But i couldn't possibly exploit your commendable hospitality like that. I already bother you at work so much; it would be horribly disgraceful of me to take advantage of your courteousness any further.'' You had such an apologetic smile on your face, so frankly certain that cold, reserved, throw-people-out-of-the-tavern-for-asking-his-favorite-season Mr. Diluc was asking you on a date out of pure politeness. Sure, he was a gentleman. Not even his worst enemies could deny that. But not so much so that he would be actively inviting you to places if he didn't genuinely like having you around. Nope. No sir. Nuh-uh. Impossible.
''Idiots.'' Kaeya sounded so solemn, Venti might have cried laughing if he hadn't been so invested in the situation at hand. ''They are idiots. That's what they are.''
''Please do not feel pressured to accept on behalf of anything but your own willingness to do so. But⌠if it is really your concern that you shall trouble me, i assure you; i couldn't possibly find your presence a bother.'' Diluc seemed to almost choke on those last words, his face a color suspiciously similar to his hair. Kaeya had to clamp a hand over Venti's mouth so he wouldn't squeal and alert the couple. You gazed at Diluc's eyes for a long, long moment; a few meters away, two slackers with nothing better to do held their breaths.
''I cannot thank you enough for the invitation, sir, truly, and i would absolutely love to be your guest, from the depths of my heart, but-'' Whatever dense, clueless, infuriatingly polite excuse of a sentence you might have uttered, it was rendered inaudible to the two by the untimely arrival of an especially rowdy group. Venti groaned with indignation, and finally sat himself down - he had been so focused that he hadn't realised he'd been standing all this time. Kaeya felt like bashing his head against the table. Instead, he downed his much neglected cup in one gulp.
''How long has this been going on?'' Now that he was free to yell as he wished, every word came out of the Archon's mouth as if a horrid offense had been commited against his very person.
''Two weeks.''
''Two weeks?''
''Two full weeks. This is the third we're going on.''
It took a while for them to get talking again. But when they did, the verdict was clear.
''We have to do something about this.''
''Please. They're killing me over here.''
Š2026 rifleleon please don't repost my works on other sites, copy, modify, claim as your own or use for ai under any circumstances.
