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stevebabey · 1 year

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part one here. ze part two to touch-starved stevie that absolutely no one requested hehe <3 but i gots to let my boys have a wee kiss :")

So, hugs with Eddie become… well, a thing.

Not a thing. They’re not a thing, Steve and Eddie. It’s totally the same as when he gets hugs from Robin. Eddie’s doing him a favour as a friend. It’s got the 100% platonic energy of getting a hug from a friend — a hug that usually melts into some form of a cuddle, limbs all tangled together until they can’t tell whose are whose.

Except, Steve doesn’t really do that second part with Robin. Like he hasn’t done it ever with Robin.

So, it’s an Eddie thing.

But they’re not a thing. Not matter how much Steve would actually very much like for that happen. Okay, maybe Steve’s overthinking the whole thing a bit, but he just can’t tell.

Where’s the line? It’s infuriating not being able to discern between platonic and more, just because Steve wasn’t held enough as a fucking baby. Out of all the things he resents his parents for, Steve’s surprised that this is so near the top.

Because, sure, Steve’s had more than his fair share of hookups. He knows that sort of touch. He knows the shape of lust; the scrapes of fingernails down backs, the tight grips over skin, the push and pull of the heat of the moment.

And this thing with Eddie… is not that.

So, really, Steve knows that it’s all friendly. Eddie is just being nice. He’s being a decent dude and helping his friend out — by catapulting himself into Steve’s arms at every opportune moment.

(Steve’s only dropped 3 mugs of coffee because of this so far. It’s only because Eddie says good catch, big boy with a devilish grin every time that Steve manages to catch Eddie that Steve hasn’t completely told him to knock it off. Just yet, at least.)

And he’s different in other areas. He’ll always seem to choose the seat next to Steve on movie-nights now, content to snuggle right up to him. They get thigh to thigh, arm to arm — and Eddie only needs to get about 20 minutes in for him to do a big sigh, like an old dog, and slump over, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve notices though. He always notices.

It’s impossible not to— the skin, even if there’s 3 layers between them, burns blazing warm. Eddie’s hair drapes over his arm, a curl inevitably tickling along Steve’s collar. He can feel the rise and fall of Eddie’s breathing, the little shake of when he laughs.

It drives Steve a little insane— insane in the way that makes him think about burying his fingers in those curls again, about pressing his lips against Eddie’s pretty mouth just to feel the smile against his skin, about digging into his chest so he can climb into his chest and live there.

Yeah, it’s— well, it’s safe to say that the effect of Eddie’s touchiness has sent what was once a fleeting thought of a crush into mind-melting levels of affection.

But he can’t fucking tell.

To Steve’s credit, neither can Eddie.

Which is not surprisingly considering sometimes he catches himself wondering how the hell he ended up here; in a close-knit friendship with band-geek Robin Buckley, princess Nancy Wheeler, and King Steve Harrington.

Okay, the Robin one sort of makes sense. He thinks that if no matter when their paths crossed, he and Robin would’ve always even some sort of strange friends - her snark complimenting his bitchiness. Also, the whole super queer thing helps too. Even the friendship with Nancy works, in its own weird way.

Steve though? He’s the fucking curve ball.

It works though, the two of them. Surprisingly well, actually — the two of them get on like a house on fire, bitchy quips back and forth. Even better, is the quiet that they can share. Steve loves to come around and do… nothing. Do nothing with Eddie, though.

So, even though Eddie had noticed the tension in Steve with touch, little moments where he turned rigid when Eddie’s usual wandering hands got too comfortable — Eddie chalked it up to the usual. Guys bring too uncomfortable with him, too weird about another guy being touchy. It didn’t matter than Eddie wasn’t even out to Steve yet, he was still might be that type of guy.

Well, Eddie had certainly thought so. Sure, Steve might not be one of those jocks who smacked around boys who looked too long in the locker room, but if he knew a smidge of the truth, who really knows. It would explain the tenseness at least.

But then— ‘Can I… have a hug?’ There had been a dozen things Eddie was thinking that Steve could’ve asked for but that? Wasn’t even in the ballpark. It was so left-field it left Eddie speechless for a whole moment. And Steve had been staring at the ceiling, his hands curled up tight again like- like he thought Eddie might say no.

A ridiculous thought, honestly. Anyone who knew Eddie well enough knew he was touchy; loved giving it, loved getting it. Like an overly affectionate cat, Wayne had once called him, just 11 years old, because Eddie’s need for affection seem to never be sated.

After that night, Steve’s lack of touch became far more obvious. It’s always hair ruffles or high-fives, yet never hugs. Normally, Eddie would keep to that boundary; some people are less touchy other than others, he knows that.

But… “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile, since I’ve had some touch.” That’s what Steve had said, his words. Eddie doesn’t even think he meant to say something so heartbreaking. In fact, the guy seemed embarrassed.

It had thrown Eddie for a loop— because Steve gets around. He’s nearly notorious for one-night stands and failed flings, as Robin loves to drone on about considering she’s subjected to all the flirting. What had originally been a point of envy for Eddie, just saturates the bleakness of Steve’s words. Sex but without a moment of intimacy.

So, while Eddie is miles away from being the person who gets into Steve’s pants — not for lack of want, mind you — he does try hike up the touchiness. Little things. Lingering when he taps him on the arm, hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder to peer over it, leaning up against him when they’re side by side watching a film.

It’s good. It helps Eddie release the pressure of his stupid monumental god-awful crush he has. Yeah, yeah, it’s laughable, even to Eddie. It’s like Gay 101; don’t get crush on straight dudes, especially the ones you’re friends with. And yet…

Steve lets him. He lets Eddie give him touch, more than he lets anyone else. He still tenses; there’s still always a moment before he can remember to relax, like he’s trying to shake off bad thoughts but then he melts. He always melts into Eddie’s touch eventually — in a way Eddie knows Steve actually loves it, drinks it up as much as he can.

And maybe, Eddie is the biggest fool to grace the Earth to let that fact give him some hope. Sue his gooey heart, he’s a romantic. It’s a quiet hope but, it’s there.

Tonight, it seems relaxing for Steve is been harder than usual— several times has Eddie traced a quite long along Steve’s arms, a subtle point that they were far too tense for someone who was wrapped up in cuddles on the couch. ‘Cos that’s 100% what they are now. Eddie will still call them hugs, but usually, when it’s just the two of them, it becomes this.

Steve, tucked up into the corner of the couch, one leg flush along the back of the couch and one hanging off the edge. It’s the prime position for Eddie to crawl up, wind his arms around Steve’s middle and give him a good squeeze and then settle there. Head on Steve’s chest, lying in the cradle of his hips. Safe. Warm.

It makes him warm, oh very warm to know that he gets this. That Steve doesn’t give this amount of trust to many, if any, other people but Eddie — he trusts Eddie.

“Y’know,” Eddie says, cheeks smushed against the plain of Steve’s pec. It feels deliciously warm and Eddie’s fairly sure he can feel how toned it is just through his cheek. Hot bastard. “I’m actually real glad you asked for that hug all those weeks ago.”

He leaves it there ‘cos he knows Steve will ask. Eddie’s eyes stay on the buzzing tv-screen even as Steve’s head shifts, turning to peer down at the boy slumped on his chest. Eddie’s pretty sure he can see Steve’s mouth twitch up into a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie affirms, giving a nod and his eyes flick up to meet Steve’s for just a moment. “Think I’ve had some of the best hugs in the world.”

Okay, that was maybe more honest and sappy than Eddie was going for. He is just letting Steve know he isn’t just doing it for Steve — that he enjoys these moments just as much. He lays it on thick, tries for a smarmy angle.

“Swept up in these pillowy arms?” He croons, giving Steve’s bicep a quick squeeze, making the other chuckle softly. “Who wouldn’t think so? I’m a lucky guy.”

Despite the joking tone, there’s no quick comeback from Steve. That’s alright. Eddie’s quite happy if this is one of the times Steve just takes the compliment; let’s the word sink in and hopefully, believes them, even if it’s just a little bit. He watches the film and doesn’t read into the silence.

Not even when Steve says, “Eddie?” all soft. Nearly shy sounding. It doesn’t quite register to Eddie’s ears.

“Mm?”

“Eddie.” Steve says again, a little firmer and that catches Eddie’s attention. He turns his head and rests his chin on Steve’s chest, his brows drawn together in silent question.

But the moment he makes eye contact, Steve’s doing that scrunched up face again. Is studying the ceiling instead of facing Eddie. And just like all those weeks ago, his hands clench up tight. Twists up the fabric of Eddie’s sweater in between his fingers and uses it to ground himself.

Last time, he asked for a hug. Considering he’s currently just about squishing Steve beneath his body weight, Eddie can’t fathom what he might be worked up to ask for. Unless he was going to ask for something more than a hug— which, well, just wasn’t going to happen, even if Eddie really wanted it to.

“Can I-” Steve starts. He sucks in a breath, almost like he’s gathering courage. But he’s not, because he’s not about to ask for what Eddie hopes for, he’s not, he’s—

Unless…?

“Can I… have a kiss?” Steve asks, barely audible. The sentence is murmured, soft words that hit Eddie like a gentle kiss in itself — imprinting right onto his heart. Steve Harrington wants a kiss — from him!

“Oh.” Eddie says, in a breathy delightful way. He’s fairly certain the little monkey in his brain is clapping its cymbals at double-speed as the words process; or maybe it’s his heart, which feels like it’s leapt up his throat.

“Oh?” Steve echoes, a smile already playing at the edges of his mouth, because he can see Eddie’s want. Because he knows him.

“Yes.” Eddie says suddenly, with a frantic nod, pushing up closer so their faces are aligned. “Yes, absolutely, you can.” He affirms.

Steve huffs a quiet laugh at the eagerness and then his arm that had been slung around Eddie shifts. It moves up til his hand caresses along the line of Eddie’s jaw, tilting him just how he likes.

Eddie holds his breath. Counts the freckles he can see this close. Tries to feel Steve’s heartbeat through where they’re pressed so closely together; can Steve feel his? Thundering and hurried, beating so hard Eddie thinks he might bruise the inside of his ribs.

Then Steve kisses him. And shit, Steve’s lip are better by ten-fold than every daydream Eddie’s ever had about them. They’re warm and so soft — plush and pressing against his own and Eddie is freezing. Fuck, wait, how does this go again? Right, Eddie’s never… well, kissed anybody before.

Steve pulls back and Eddie screws his eyes up — not ready in the slightest for the disappointment of his own shoddy kissing skills. Fuck, did he really just freeze? Steve — Steve Harrington — asks for a kiss and Eddie decides to stab himself in the back by not figuring out how to fuck to kiss back.

“You call that a kiss?” Steve teases and Eddie’s well aware of the parallel — of the irony of Steve repeating his own words back at him. But he can’t make himself laugh even though it’s funny. Instead, a little groan wiggles out his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, earnest. He forces his eyes opens — he needs to see what’s Steve’s thinking. Where he’s expecting disappointment or perhaps regret, is only patience. Maybe a touch of concern. Eddie continues, despite the humiliation that makes his throat sticky.

“I haven’t- I don’t do this often.” He coughs awkwardly clearing his throat and hoping it hides the next word. “Ever.”

There’s a jump in Steve’s eyebrows, a moment of surprise in his eyes that lets him know he did, indeed, hear that final word. It makes Eddie feel… well, it’s nice that Steve had expected him to have been kissed by now. Even if he hasn’t. He tries to take it as a compliment.

“That’s okay,” Steve assures. Absentmindedly, his thumb rubs soothing along Eddie’s jaw. It makes Eddie shiver, some outrageous amount of joy clawing into every nerve. Steve likes Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie.

“Do you want to try again?”

Eddie nods before the questions even out of his mouth. Steve smiles, all sunshine. This time when he draws Eddie in, he notices the way Eddie holds his breath — the rigidness in his body.

Steve kisses him again, another short and soft one and then whispers against his lips, “Relax.”

‘Cos isn’t tonight just full of the parallels, Eddie thinks. He listens, tries to focus on how sweet Steve’s kiss is than his panicky heart, forcing out a breath between the kisses. His hands along Steve’s sides find a grip, grounding and good, and by the fourth kiss, he begins to feel a bit melty.

It’s good. It’s really good. Kissing Steve is top 5– nay, the top moment of his life so far. Somehow, it’s made all that much better knowing the build-up behind it. Knowing that Steve knows he isn’t just kissing him for a heat of the moment — that Eddie wants kisses here, kisses before bed, in the morning, on dates. Eddie wants Steve.

And with the way he kisses, Eddie’s pretty sure Steve wants him just as bad.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to reach what Eddie decides is an ultra pretty fuckin’ state; lips swollen from kisses, cheeks flushed, hair a little mussed up. He bets he looks no better. The thought makes him grin, enough they have to break the kiss ‘cos Eddie can’t stop his stupid happy grin ‘cos shit— he actually gets to have this Steve.

“What?” Steve asks, somehow half heart-eyed and half suspicious at the mischief in Eddie’s eyes.

“Can I... have a hickie?”

now with a part three !

#at this point call this the 'can i' series #sweet boys asking each other for things they most certainly would be given <3 #but don't think they will <3 #tried to flip it and make it so even tho eddie is used to touch. the romantic touch? he's got none! that's where he's touch-starved #ALSO EVERYONE'S TAGS WERE SO NICE ON THE LAST ONE #trust i am. not feelin so bad nowadays (me saying this like 4 days later lmao)#but <3 thank u all #gay ppl in my phone.... you know what to do #ruby writes steddie #steve x eddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #touch-starved steve harrington #not rlly anymore hehe #does anyone notice that it ends with yet another 'can i?" question? HEHE #yet again stib gets kisses where ruby doesn't but alas <3 dis is way fluffier this time #nearly went the angst route! and went hmmmm naur #ok ok i'll be quiet now

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avephelis · 2 months

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the pokemon requests. many beasts.

#i am not tagging all of them are you crazy. naur.#pokemon #pkmn #pokemon fanart #avepharts #need to @ everyone in a mnute i will do it in a reblog

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willowchild · 2 months

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Tumblr is so wild bc so many posts here are like "omg did you know that all Israelis are racist and want to kill all Palestinians!!!! Israel shouldn't exist bc all Zionists are disgusting and genocidal!!! Here's proof!!! (Insert video of a specific small group of Israelis saying something very racist which 99 percent of Israelis don't agree with)" or like "look at this!!! (insert misinformation tweet with pictures from Syria)" or like. Just a post unashamedly supporting a terrorist organisation. And these posts will have like 20k notes 😭😭😭

#naur that houthi post..... those posts minimizing hamas.... like. hezbollah when 😍 Palestinian jihad when 🤪#it speaks #israel #idk what 2 tag this

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fox-guardian · 1 year

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it will never not fuck me up that what happened to Danny stoker is never. NEVER. referred to as a death.

[ID: A section of the MAG 104 transcript reading: "[Bitterly] Statement of Timothy Stoker, on the disappearance of… of my brother, Danny, four years ago. June 14th, 2017." end id]

Tim's statement was about his disappearance, not his death.

[ID: Two sections of TMA transcripts. The first is from MAG 104 reading: "let me tell you what. If you want me to ignore everything that’s going on, forget my brother and everything that’s happened over" and the second is from MAG 119 reading: "NIKOLA: Once. A long time ago, before Orsinov made me. And sometimes, even now, for special occasions. Like your brother. [distorted] SHALL I?" end ID]

Tim asks Elias if he wants him to forget "his brother". Nikola says she still goes as Grimaldi for special occasions, "like your brother". Never once during his statement does Tim mention Danny dying. No one ever calls it a death. For Tim, you could say it was denial, or at least say that he couldn't bear to speak it out loud. For Nikola, you could just say that's just how she talks.

But then there's the fact that Nikola had said this to Jon in ep 101

[ID: A section of the MAG 101 transcript reading: "ORSINOV: Oh, don’t worry, it’s not for you. You won’t even need a coffin – we’re going to use every piece of you." end ID]

she was going to skin him, but would still find a use for the rest of him. presumably, she treats most, if not all of her other victims this way. but what, praytell, could that use possibly be?

perhaps mr archive man has an answer for us

[ID: A section of the MAG 118 transcript reading: "fill with waxworks. And I guess you don’t need skin to sing. (shaky breath) To join the choir." end ID]

HMMMM GOLLY GEE BATMAN I WONDER WHAT HAPPENED TO DANNY

ANYWAY with all this together it is going to Drive Me To The Brink Of Madness that it's implied that Danny, in some form or another, was still Alive at the unknowing. he didn't die that wednesday night in august when Tim had last seen him, oh no. he was still alive.

likely all the way up until the unknowing.

until Tim.... i shan't say

#ramblings with major #the magnus archives #tma #danny stoker #tim stoker #tma angst #cursing #ask to tag #this was supposed to be serious but i got a little feral and had to do a bit #two bits #but yeah I'm Feeling So Normal About This #have i made a post about this already?? possibly #do i give an shid???? naur

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userjoel · 10 months

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TONY LEUNG as VENUS/APHRODITE in newjeans' cool with you & get up side b mv

#tony leung #newjeans #kpopedit #tleungedit #dilfedit #dilfsource #dilfgifs #naur idea who or what to tag this so #letting it drift into the ether #*#don't like the way the coloring turned out but i couldnt get it right☹️#this man literally showed up looking beautiful and evil in the best way #smirked and walked off #and literally everyone applauded !

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smokbeast · 5 months

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before I start posting more merlot or answering asks I wanna show the reason that sassy bitch exists, this is Fraktur point, or frak. He’s his own undertale oc with my friend’s and that crazzee bastard made me cave to the swap fell and more JDMDMDM

SO ABOUT FRAK BELOW!

He’s from an au called BETATALE, essentially the joke of it being. The beta version of undertale. Everything is relatively the same but with beta adjacents of undertale characters. In frak’s case, he is the “papyrus” variant, but also more. He is not a papyrus but inspired by one, he does not have a brother however.

he is a royal guardsman and was once an ex royal scientist with Dr.gaster, however you ask him about this he will not recall a word.

he loves jokes and making tamales! He’s a bit of a klutz and forgets things frequently. However tell him a pun joke or call a pig in a blanket a tamale and u will die.

he’s a bit of a nerd and kinda socially awkward as no one really tries to be friends with him. So when you talk to him he gets really loud and excited and then freaks out and becomes self conscious and walts away.

he had a wife, she died, he never once mentioned this to anyone. And pretends everything is fine…CONStantly

he is always smiling, but once you make him upset, that smile is gone

he is 5’8’

he doesnt like the stars on his head to be visible, only those close to him can see it.

frak has fire powers thanks to an experiment he got into. They can make him a lil nuts sometimes

frak has the power of SAVE and RELOAD, he can jump the multiverse and cause save points in case of emergencies or to travel. But he is cautious of this power as he knows it’s wildly abused in the multiverse.

merlot is his wife, that’s the girl boss, and Roman is his hubband, that’s his manlet

dark, dark and darker.

#I wanted to post him in case cause he’s the reason merlot was gonna happen #But y’all can still be silly simps about merl I love it MDKKFK #art #my art #undertale oc #my oc #frak #skeleton oc #undertale au #undertale #undertale fanart #He is NOT a papyrus if you tag him as such I will have to ask you to not to cause pls naur

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bibberbang · 10 months

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i dont reblog those posts about how hard it is to have moralizing ocd in online spaces, even though i deeply resonate with them. ironically, i can only talk to 2 people about my ocd, because one of my obsessions is that other people will assume im using my mental health as a shield against criticism if i talk about it. therefore, if i talk about my ocd in any circumstance, my brain believes that i'm already doing something immoral

basically, most of my obsessions resolve around people assuming bad faith of me or that i'm somehow secretly an irredeemably bad person, no matter how hard i try to be good. i am a bad person if i dont reblog posts about serious topics, spend every waking moment thinking about extremely serious topics, or make any social mistakes whatsoever (which is scary because i'm also autistic). i believe that i am irredeemable if i make a small mistake, and i often think all my friends are waiting for me to make a mistake so that they can attack me, and that my life will be ruined if i fuck up. im constantly scanning all my interests (and people i know) for the tiniest imperfections (far beyond healthy amounts of criticism in your interests) out of fear that liking anything or anyone makes me a horrible person. if you dont take a side on this lgbt label discourse, then youre a bigot! im ALWAYS mentally preparing responses and apologies to totally theoretical situations of people being upset with me. i have intrusive thoughts about doing the immoral things that scare me most.

the problem is, *talking about* any of these thoughts invites people who will actually bad faith me. "if youre so worried about this stuff, then you must have something to hide! you just want to avoid accountability!" they make your obsession a reality by accusing you of the exact thing you fear most. none of these thoughts are reasonable or realistic, and i know that. i know that i'm mentally ill. i know logically that i'm as good a person as anyone else. when i actually do make a mistake, i stay level-headed and apologize, acknowledge what i did wrong, and change my behavior

but there is a large part of me that does not want to heal from my ocd, because i believe constant self-monitoring and self-critique is the only thing preventing me from becoming a horrible person

there is nothing i want more in this world than to be a good altruistic human being who is capable of growth, but spending weeks trapped in thought loops analyzing all my behaviors for the smallest signs of a mistake will not help me be a better person. it makes me a worse friend. it drains my energy so that i dont have the mental capacity to actually spend time being kind to others. i reread this post many times while writing it to make sure i didnt accidentally write 6 different slurs. but i can't figure out how to heal. what the fuck do i do about this

this is incredibly hard for me to write about. i'm fighting the urge to delete this post as you read it. i cant stress how debilitating this is for me, it is the biggest hurdle in my life and it sucks away days worth of my time and energy. i will become trapped in thought-loops THE SECOND im not kept sufficiently busy and stimulated by tv/music/my bf/being out of the house somewhere/etc. so much of my life is wasted wanting to be good, that i dont get a chance to actually live the life of a good person

i really hope this post resonates with someone. ive only met a few other people who have this particular kind of ocd, and its extremely isolating. but i want to try to heal from it, and i know the first step to healing is talking about it

#have you ever noticed how i'll add addendums in the tags of my posts where i'll clarify EXACTLY what the post was about?#i do that bc of my obsession that some1 will screenshot something i say out of context and make me look horrible #this is not just a Go Outside problem btw. i know a lot of the examples i gave were internet related #but ive had ocd since i was a child. the other half of my symptoms are health related #like obsessions about emetophobia. or food being contaminated or making me sick. or other physical illness #ppl assume ocd is just washing your hands and not wanting to be touched. naur. i wash my hands a normal amount and i love being touched #so i didnt believe i could have ocd for a long time cuz i didnt fit the stereotype. even though it was incredibly obvious and debilitating #amygdalae #ocd #actually ocd

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lovevamp · 6 months

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marius eating out bianca while she’s on her period is something that can be so personal

#TO ME #should i put this in the tvc tag?#naur i will spare everyone #however comma it will be going in the character tags #marius de romanus #bianca solderini #kenz.text #just realized it’s not even ten am hshshshs

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slightlyhopefulromantic · 1 month

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i didnt mean to draw every deadlands pc except for garnet, was just sketching some random things while listening to part 2 of everyone has amnesia, but i guess i only drew zillah so it evens out

#oxventure #bountybelle #demonwoods #DID I SERIOUSLY TAG THIS WITH PIRATE WOODS INSTEAD #AND NOT NOTICE FOR LIKE. TWO WEEKS #NAUR ……

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boyfhees · 2 years

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TAKE TWO | diluc

PRECIS. amidst rain and regrets, diluc asks you for another chance ( 1.58k )

GENRE. angst, bittersweet maybe, exes to ?

WARNINGS. they only talk like, 5 times in the whole fic, mentions of breakups, reader has emotional trauma bro, tea ( literally ) bc im a coffee supremacist, unedited version my old friend 🫶

NOTE. for my bestie and the best writer on this site @wolfhookk like u can never not fall in love with her writings, someone tell this to her until it's imprinted in her head. bff ily i hope u like this red hair man angst 🧎 ps there are a lot of lang leav references. ALSO THANK HER BC IF IT WASN'T FOR RI I WOULDN'T HAVE WRITTEN ANOTHER GENSHIN WORK ANYTIME SOON LMAO

“i don’t usually invite my exes to my house,” diluc shoots you an apologetic look, or maybe that’s how you perceive it. you were once good at reading his expression, now you no longer know how to do that, for the person in front of you feels like a stranger.

he doesn’t say anything, not that he has to. diluc thought it was fate, but then he realised it’s a mere coincidence. it rained without a forecast and you being the kind soul you are, let him stay over until the rain stops. and even though you told him to not read too much into the situation, you don’t think diluc understood a word, judging from the way he still looks at you with a lovelorn smile.

something shifts in the air after you step into the kitchen, almost half-a-way through the process of making his preferred choice of tea. there’s a dramatic pause right before you pour it into the cup, watching the wisp spin into the despairing air surrounding you in the kitchen. you take a step back, running your mind over all the moments you and diluc spent together, looking through the first mention of him in your memories— it’s gone, you conclude, faded or perhaps, hidden behind the blankets of sorrow and remorse.

your attention shifts back to the tea as you proceed to pour it into the cup, wondering why you still remember how to make his favourite tea the way he taught you, or how much sugar he prefers. you press your mind to come up with an excuse before all these things, they don’t make sense to you; not anymore.

“you still buy tulips everyday,” his voice drives you out of your thoughts. you pick up the tray, making your way into the living room, placing it on the centre table before taking a seat by the farthest corner on the couch.

your gaze follows his eyes, settling upon the wilted tulips resting on your kitchen counter. the truth is— you don’t want to buy them, but something about watching the tulips every time you pass by the kitchen puts you at ease. you don’t know the reason, you don’t wish to know either. the first time you bought tulips was for diluc’s first birthday after the of you had moved in together. it wasn’t the first time; in fact, he had a habit to buy flowers for you. a new bunch, a new arrangement, every single day. but something changed after that birthday. whether for good or for bad, diluc never purchased anything flowers except tulips. he says it’s because they reminds you of him, and you reasoned it saying that you’re down to settle with anything that makes him happy.

though, you don’t know if that’s the case anymore. the tulips, perhaps they’re for you. a reminder to never forget what you had, and a mnemonic for everything that you both could’ve been before everything withered down.

“and the tea still tastes how it used to,” he mutters above the silence intoxicating the atmosphere. there’s a sense of nostalgia in his voice, a hint of yearning in every word that rolls off his lips; and it all contradicts the words he said to you two years ago.

his words would’ve meant a lot more if he said them before he made mistakes that could never be corrected and before you decided to cut the string and walk on a separate path. that’s the tragedy of growing up— you’ll run out of feeling something new for the first time. the sad thing is; you only get so much of those moments— a handful if you’re lucky— and then you spend the rest of your life turning them over in your head.

maybe that’s why he meant as much to you as he did, and why you held on for so long even after knowing things wouldn’t work out. you didn’t know it back then, but he was the last time you would ever feel anything new.

“diluc—” your voice is almost quite, a bit above what classifies as a whisper, dripping with hesitation and groundless assumptions. “this means nothing.”

the need to classify that stays far beyond your comprehension, but you take a look at him and realise that he knew it, nonetheless. his hopeless eyes tell you that it’s all because of the impromptu rain; the way his gaze flutters all around the room, never residing upon you hints that diluc knows you invited him out of decency, and there’s no point hoping for this to morph into something more.

“i know,” he smiles, because you invited him over as someone you used to know; someone you wouldn’t have looked back at if not for the comical play of destiny.

you let silence lead the next few minutes. the sound of rain fading into nothing as it ceases to pour; a question pops inside your head— is he in a relationship? it’s stupid, knowing it’s none of your concerns now that he isn’t a part of your life anymore. your mind knows it’s useless, your heart craves an answer, and you wonder if the mind ever answers the heart. the way it keeps conjuring up what’s no longer there. you don’t know why you keep swinging like a pendulum between pulling him close and pushing him away, which you know the mirage will never be true. but the heart does not have eyes and the mind cannot resist when it asks, just one last time.

diluc puts the cup back on the tray, mumbling a soft thank you before wiping his hair with the towel around his neck, the one you had given him before letting him inside. “i heard you never dated after we broke up,”

there’s a look in his eyes you’ve never seen before, and it takes you a few minutes to recognise it for what it was— remorse. he looks at you, half defeated, half hopeful, as if he’s aware of the damage inflicted upon you, all because of his mistakes. you feel something linger in the silence, a broken fragment of memory, or perhaps the essence of unsaid words pressuring the air, forcing you to succumb to sorrow. it takes you back to when you were looking at him, desperate and with your hands into front of him to intertwine with his, and he called your name as if it pained him to say it. you don’t realise when it had stopped raining, or when the clock struck eleven, just the way you didn’t realise when the love between you and diluc shattered down to a chore.

he stands up, typing something on his phone which seems like texting, before his attention shifts back to you. “i’ll get going,”

“right now? it’s eleven at night. you can stay—” and a pause. it’s reminds of the very first time you had asked him to stay over; the night that ignited sparks of something between you and him that set ablaze when you kissed him because of a game of spin the bottle. “i mean, it’s too late and dangerous to drive back, especially in this weather.”

“i’ll stay at a friend’s for the night.” he states, you nod in response. there’s a glint of disappointment in your voice; perhaps you were hoping for something more, perhaps a closure— a chance. you don’t know why you had high expectations when you swore to never see him again. falling in love is dangerous. it’s like holding your heart in your fist and letting it go— one finger at a time. you know it’s getting out of your hold, slipping through your fingers, yet you can’t do anything. there comes a point when you’ve let it get out of your grasp, surrendering it to someone; and falling out of love is like walking hand in hand with death because your heart lies somewhere astray, with someone else, but you have to move on.

because first love is never the first person you give your heart to— it’s the first one who breaks it.

you follow him to the door, noticing his every single move as he slips into his coat, followed by his shoes. you realise that you’ve always loved him more than yourself; so much more than even after all these years, every single piece of your heart years for him, or even a part of him, knowing that if there’s someone responsible for all the days and nights you’ve spent spilling tears on your pillow, it’s him. it’s like a tender sacrifice; like a faint silence felt in the lost song of a mermaid; or the bent and broken feet of a dancing ballerina. it’s in every considered step you’ve taken in the opposite direction of him, and his every word that drove you away from him.

diluc stops as you were about to shut the door, looking you in the eyes for the very first time that night. “i know everything that happened was my fault,” he begins, and you wonder if you’re ready for another one of those apologies he offered you after you broke up with him, but his eyes tell a whole ‘nother story. “but in future, if you find yourself in a position to fall in love again, please fall in love with me.”

and the second you tried to tell yourself that you weren’t in love anymore was the moment you realised you were, and you’ve always been.

taglist in the rbs.

#prod. — caelin.#album. — genshin.#genshin x reader #genshin impact #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc x reader #genshin diluc #diluc angst #genshin angst #diluc fic #genshin fic #diluc headcanons #genshin headcanons #diluc drabbles #genshin drabbles #naur i need to know ab popular genshin tags i cannot copy the hq format 😞💔

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