rainlight.

he steps past the entryway and a weary sigh escapes his lips. he leans on the wall, tipping his head back in an effort to ease the crick in his neck. archons above, he’d feel this magnified tomorrow, wouldn’t he? 

his head was killing him. 

regardless of how seasoned an adventurer and how much of a captain one may be, a week scouting in dragonspine mountain was bound to be draining, not to mention the pages of reports that he’d had to finish immediately after returning.

he pulls his hair free from his ponytail, and it cascades down his shoulders in a waterfall of azure and navy. he rakes his fingers through, shaking it out at the roots before moving to massage his throbbing forehead, thumbs resting on his temples. the hair tie that rests in his hands, the one that he pockets delicately, is a sparkly gold one that you’ve given him.

he slides to the floor to undo his boots, fumbling ungracefully with the gilded clasps and buckles adorning brown leather, taking far too long for what would ordinarily be a simple task.

despite his exhaustion, he smiles when he sees your shoes lined up neatly, and he arranges his boots next to yours, the sides of his left shoe touching the sides of your right.

 it almost makes him forget his headache. 

almost. he winces as another throb radiates the pain behind his brows.

a shower can wait, kaeya thinks, as he walks towards the bedroom. he’d much rather be cuddled up with you and rest till the morning comes. 

his footsteps are quiet, and he walks as slowly and as softly as possible despite wanting to run to bed immediately. the last thing he wants is to wake you up.  

he cracks open the door in the same measured manner, the soft light of the living room’s lamps permeating through as he does, and he sees his shadow magnified on the plush carpet you insisted on for the floor. as his eye adjusts, the first thing he sees is you sleeping, as peaceful as can be.

warmth blooms in his chest. it feels right, he thinks, to be able to come home to you after a long, hard week. 

he moves through the space to kneel by your side, to press the softest of kisses on your forehead, carefully stroking your hair, unwilling to disturb your rest. as much as he’d adore hearing your voice after going a week without, he could wait till the morning.

he peels off all his clothes, layer by layer, dropping his eyepatch in the drawer before grabbing the first pair of clothes he touches in his closet. 

he laughs quietly to himself in the dark, realizing he accidentally got ahold of one of your shirts.

pulling out the right article of clothing this time, he trudges onward to the bathroom, finding himself with just enough energy to brush his teeth. your toothbrush, identical to his, and your toothpaste sit in a glass next to his, and he fondly looks at the strip of satin ribbon you tied to the handle of your brush to mark it as yours. 

it feels right, he thinks. to see your possessions next to his, to see traces of you everywhere he looks in his home. to be reminded of your presence by his side everyday. 

he slides into bed, a grin finding its way onto his face as he spots a little bit of dried drool at the corner of your mouth.  “hey,” he coos when you stir at the feeling of the mattress dipping with his weight. “it’s just me, no need to be alarmed.”

“kaeya?” you call sleepily. “you just got home?” 

“mhm.” he settles himself next to you, the length of his body pressing comfortably against yours. your blanket-warmed skin on his draws a content sigh from his lips. 

“what time is it?”

“something ungodly, i’m sure,” he stifles a yawn, his brows knitting together when his headache makes itself known again. “go back to sleep, darling.” 

“headache?” you ask, blinking the sleep away. he hums.

“it’s nothing, don’t worry.”

“don’t give me that, kaeya.” you wriggle closer to him, your fingers cradling his temples. your thumbs press gently, rubbing to ease the pressure. somehow, your touch helps.

he smiles, a soft puff of his breath hitting your wrists.

it feels right, he thinks, to feel you nestled against him, to hear your breathing even and content, to see your face calm and half buried in the embrace of sleep even as you clumsily attempt to soothe his aching head. 

it feels right, he thinks, to have your things scattered next to his, your keys with his and his shoes next to yours in a household chaos so wonderfully familiar.

it feels right, he thinks, to see your life so intertwined with his that they’re almost one; where he cannot imagine his days without you.

he feels you stir, hands dropping back down to rest on his chest. “what are you thinking about?” you ask. 

“you,” he says, brushing an eyelash off your cheek, completely sincere.

you huff, rolling your eyes. “sweet-talker. did you miss me that much?” you nudge him playfully.

“i did,” he admits, and your eyes soften in the face of his earnest response. 

“i missed you too.” you sleepily press a kiss to the base of his neck, where his pulse lives. “it really isn’t the same without you.”

“now who’s the sweet-talker, hmm?”

“you’re ruining the moment we’re having, kaeya.” you poke him in the chest in faux annoyance, huffing lightly. “besides, pillows shouldn’t talk.”

he chuckles. “alright, alright.” he acquiesces, his voice mellow and fond. he kisses your forehead and pulls you closer, yawning. “i’ll quiet down and be your pillow. we’ll talk in the morning.”

“mhm,” you hum in response before a yawn leaves your mouth. “goodnight, my love.”

he nudges your head with his nose. “sweet dreams, my love.”

✦ ending notes: this doesn't flow as smoothly as i'd like it to, but i still adore this with all my heart. thanks for reading. :)

✦ taglist: @maopll @number-one-love-lover (send an ask to be removed!)

“Sugar girl~”

And what are these nicknames?? Okay, yes, it always starts tame, like you lovingly address each other as ‘darling’ or ‘beloved’, as he would expect of a couple, but as the evening progresses and transforms into the night, it gets wild and beyond his imagination. ‘Hottie Hottersen’? ‘Future Grandmaster Yummy’?? What are even those???

“Do you want a sip of my drink, my Unhinged Queen?”

“I’d be delighted, my Horseless Knight~”

Celestia above, give him patience. Yes, patience, because if the skies gave him strength, Diluc would send Kaeya flying straight to where his horses are - which is conveniently so very far away from his tavern.

You? You are good, he likes you. It’s not your fault, the redhead is convinced that the Cavalry Captain’s (horseless haha– ahem, okay, that’s actually funny) antics have long rubbed on onto you. His future sister-in-law can never do anything wrong on her own accord.

“Hey, Diluc, do you mind mixing another one for me and my Kissing King who holds the keys to the treasure chamber that is my heart?”

…maybe he should go back on his last statement. Holy church of Barbatos, and here he is trying to defend you to his own mind, could’ve helped him a little.

“...Sure.”

“What’s wrong, Diluc?” You blink, confused, but the slight worry in your voice doesn’t escape his attention. “Long shift? I don’t mean to sound offensive, but you don’t look really well.”

“Yeah, you look like you’ve swallowed something very unsavory and then saw a bunch of Fatui soldiers,” Kaeya smirks, lowering the now empty glass and sliding it to the side. Then he plants his elbow on the counter and puts his chin on the palm, half turning to you. To Diluc’s horror he opens his mouth, undoubtedly in preparation to spew another crazy nickname.

He can’t handle this anymore.

“Glad to know you classify yourself as ‘unsavory’ and ‘a bunch of Fatui soldiers’, Kaeya,” the tavern owner deadpans, but there is hardly conveyed desperation behind his blank tone. “Could you please stop?”

“Stop what?” You blink, even more confused, glancing between the two men. Your lover chuckles, reaching out his unoccupied hand and gently running the fingertips up your cheek.

“My brother means to say,” he tucks the strand of loose hair behind your ear and then boops your nose, “that he is fed up with our flirting, shmoopsie.”

“...what is even this word?”

“But it’s not our fault his sorry ass is single, right, pirate booty?”

“First of all, don’t assume things - you have no proof of whether I’m courting someone or not,” the redhead pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a brief moment, and somehow misses how Kaeya puffs up his chest and does a silly gesture with his hand, mouthing ‘courting’ mockingly, making you giggle. “Second of all,” he picks up the ingredients for your drinks, “I’m bewildered by the terms of endearment you two use, if they even can be called that. You sound like you are trying to insult each other.”

“Listen, you don’t beat your bachelor allegat– ow!”

“Silence, love,” you nudge his side with an elbow, sending your friend an apologetic look. Alright, he likes you again. “Sorry, Diluc, I tend to forget that you are used to the things that are more…”

“Old-fashioned?” Kaeya snickers and then immediately yelps, when you dig the sharp edge of your arm firmer into his ribs.

“I wanted to say chivalrous,” you roll your eyes halfheartedly. “We are not trying to insult each other, trust me. Simply testing the capability of our imagination.”

“...uh-huh,” he hums, not quite convinced, but having accepted the strange way your brain works. Then he slides your glasses forward.

For a couple minutes the air between you three is filled with a comfortable silence. You suck on the straw happily, having leaned onto your boyfriend’s shoulder, as he’s wrapped an arm around yours, sipping on his own drink. Diluc has busied himself with washing glasses and then an order for two tables on the second floor, temporarily taking off his mind from the verbal nonsense-filled duel his two patrons had minutes prior.

He doesn’t even react when they start whispering among each other.

“He’s hilarious, isn’t he?” the knight murmurs into your hair, not wasting an opportunity to kiss your temple.

“Way to tell me you’ve specifically been choosing his shifts and these exact stools to occupy,” snorting, you bring down your half-empty glass. “When did you notice his peculiar reaction to our sweet-talking?”

“Mmm… two months ago when we stopped by the winery to bring Adelinde the souvenirs we got in Sumeru and he happened to be there too. He was visibly cringing, especially when I was calling you ‘my favorite heatstroke’ and ‘the one who lives in my bones’. To the first one he looked like he was offended for your honor, and to the second he was blinking ridiculously like an owl.

“Wow, how weirdly specific. But I’m sure I said some…stuff too, so it’s on both of us.”

“You know me, always paying attention to any moment you are involved in, snowflake,” he winks - well, you think he does - and salutes you with his glass. You can’t help but smile, responding in kind.

“I’m touched, it’s like I am dating the embodiment of romance.”

“Obviously. Why else would Donna take notes every time we are exchanging our cute loving petnames?’

“What.”

Oh, looks like Diluc is back to being the participant of your conversation. And, honestly, you start to feel kinda sorry for him - you can’t say you’ve ever seen so many shades of distress on his face in the span of just one hour.

Of course, Kaeya is going to end him.

“Didn’t you know?” your boyfriend is blinking in such feigned surprise, that would’ve gone perfectly with a loud gasp. “Okay, then listen. I accidentally stumbled upon her notebook a week ago. Left it open on the bench next to the Cat’s Tail - I had to check the contents to find out to whom it belonged. And ooooh boy, she’s been diligent. Moreover, she actually upgraded some of them! For example–”

Alright, a mental note to avoid Donna if she ever gets a partner. Like, good for her, splendid even.

he steps past the entryway and a weary sigh escapes his lips. he leans on the wall, tipping his head back in an effort to ease the crick in his neck. archons above, he’d feel this magnified tomorrow, wouldn’t he? 

his head was killing him. 

regardless of how seasoned an adventurer and how much of a captain one may be, a week scouting in dragonspine mountain was bound to be draining, not to mention the pages of reports that he’d had to finish immediately after returning.

he pulls his hair free from his ponytail, and it cascades down his shoulders in a waterfall of azure and navy. he rakes his fingers through, shaking it out at the roots before moving to massage his throbbing forehead, thumbs resting on his temples. the hair tie that rests in his hands, the one that he pockets delicately, is a sparkly gold one that you’ve given him.

he slides to the floor to undo his boots, fumbling ungracefully with the gilded clasps and buckles adorning brown leather, taking far too long for what would ordinarily be a simple task.

despite his exhaustion, he smiles when he sees your shoes lined up neatly, and he arranges his boots next to yours, the sides of his left shoe touching the sides of your right.

 it almost makes him forget his headache. 

almost. he winces as another throb radiates the pain behind his brows.

a shower can wait, kaeya thinks, as he walks towards the bedroom. he’d much rather be cuddled up with you and rest till the morning comes. 

his footsteps are quiet, and he walks as slowly and as softly as possible despite wanting to run to bed immediately. the last thing he wants is to wake you up.  

he cracks open the door in the same measured manner, the soft light of the living room’s lamps permeating through as he does, and he sees his shadow magnified on the plush carpet you insisted on for the floor. as his eye adjusts, the first thing he sees is you sleeping, as peaceful as can be.

warmth blooms in his chest. it feels right, he thinks, to be able to come home to you after a long, hard week. 

he moves through the space to kneel by your side, to press the softest of kisses on your forehead, carefully stroking your hair, unwilling to disturb your rest. as much as he’d adore hearing your voice after going a week without, he could wait till the morning.

he peels off all his clothes, layer by layer, dropping his eyepatch in the drawer before grabbing the first pair of clothes he touches in his closet. 

he laughs quietly to himself in the dark, realizing he accidentally got ahold of one of your shirts.

pulling out the right article of clothing this time, he trudges onward to the bathroom, finding himself with just enough energy to brush his teeth. your toothbrush, identical to his, and your toothpaste sit in a glass next to his, and he fondly looks at the strip of satin ribbon you tied to the handle of your brush to mark it as yours. 

it feels right, he thinks. to see your possessions next to his, to see traces of you everywhere he looks in his home. to be reminded of your presence by his side everyday. 

he slides into bed, a grin finding its way onto his face as he spots a little bit of dried drool at the corner of your mouth.  “hey,” he coos when you stir at the feeling of the mattress dipping with his weight. “it’s just me, no need to be alarmed.”

“kaeya?” you call sleepily. “you just got home?” 

“mhm.” he settles himself next to you, the length of his body pressing comfortably against yours. your blanket-warmed skin on his draws a content sigh from his lips. 

“what time is it?”

“something ungodly, i’m sure,” he stifles a yawn, his brows knitting together when his headache makes itself known again. “go back to sleep, darling.” 

“headache?” you ask, blinking the sleep away. he hums.

“it’s nothing, don’t worry.”

“don’t give me that, kaeya.” you wriggle closer to him, your fingers cradling his temples. your thumbs press gently, rubbing to ease the pressure. somehow, your touch helps.

he smiles, a soft puff of his breath hitting your wrists.

it feels right, he thinks, to feel you nestled against him, to hear your breathing even and content, to see your face calm and half buried in the embrace of sleep even as you clumsily attempt to soothe his aching head. 

it feels right, he thinks, to have your things scattered next to his, your keys with his and his shoes next to yours in a household chaos so wonderfully familiar.

it feels right, he thinks, to see your life so intertwined with his that they’re almost one; where he cannot imagine his days without you.

he feels you stir, hands dropping back down to rest on his chest. “what are you thinking about?” you ask. 

“you,” he says, brushing an eyelash off your cheek, completely sincere.

you huff, rolling your eyes. “sweet-talker. did you miss me that much?” you nudge him playfully.

“i did,” he admits, and your eyes soften in the face of his earnest response. 

“i missed you too.” you sleepily press a kiss to the base of his neck, where his pulse lives. “it really isn’t the same without you.”

“now who’s the sweet-talker, hmm?”

“you’re ruining the moment we’re having, kaeya.” you poke him in the chest in faux annoyance, huffing lightly. “besides, pillows shouldn’t talk.”

he chuckles. “alright, alright.” he acquiesces, his voice mellow and fond. he kisses your forehead and pulls you closer, yawning. “i’ll quiet down and be your pillow. we’ll talk in the morning.”

“mhm,” you hum in response before a yawn leaves your mouth. “goodnight, my love.”

he nudges your head with his nose. “sweet dreams, my love.”

✦ ending notes: this doesn't flow as smoothly as i'd like it to, but i still adore this with all my heart. thanks for reading. :)

✦ taglist: @maopll @number-one-love-lover (send an ask to be removed!)

he steps past the entryway and a weary sigh escapes his lips. he leans on the wall, tipping his head back in an effort to ease the crick in his neck. archons above, he’d feel this magnified tomorrow, wouldn’t he? 

his head was killing him. 

regardless of how seasoned an adventurer and how much of a captain one may be, a week scouting in dragonspine mountain was bound to be draining, not to mention the pages of reports that he’d had to finish immediately after returning.

he pulls his hair free from his ponytail, and it cascades down his shoulders in a waterfall of azure and navy. he rakes his fingers through, shaking it out at the roots before moving to massage his throbbing forehead, thumbs resting on his temples. the hair tie that rests in his hands, the one that he pockets delicately, is a sparkly gold one that you’ve given him.

he slides to the floor to undo his boots, fumbling ungracefully with the gilded clasps and buckles adorning brown leather, taking far too long for what would ordinarily be a simple task.

despite his exhaustion, he smiles when he sees your shoes lined up neatly, and he arranges his boots next to yours, the sides of his left shoe touching the sides of your right.

 it almost makes him forget his headache. 

almost. he winces as another throb radiates the pain behind his brows.

a shower can wait, kaeya thinks, as he walks towards the bedroom. he’d much rather be cuddled up with you and rest till the morning comes. 

his footsteps are quiet, and he walks as slowly and as softly as possible despite wanting to run to bed immediately. the last thing he wants is to wake you up.  

he cracks open the door in the same measured manner, the soft light of the living room’s lamps permeating through as he does, and he sees his shadow magnified on the plush carpet you insisted on for the floor. as his eye adjusts, the first thing he sees is you sleeping, as peaceful as can be.

warmth blooms in his chest. it feels right, he thinks, to be able to come home to you after a long, hard week. 

he moves through the space to kneel by your side, to press the softest of kisses on your forehead, carefully stroking your hair, unwilling to disturb your rest. as much as he’d adore hearing your voice after going a week without, he could wait till the morning.

he peels off all his clothes, layer by layer, dropping his eyepatch in the drawer before grabbing the first pair of clothes he touches in his closet. 

he laughs quietly to himself in the dark, realizing he accidentally got ahold of one of your shirts.

pulling out the right article of clothing this time, he trudges onward to the bathroom, finding himself with just enough energy to brush his teeth. your toothbrush, identical to his, and your toothpaste sit in a glass next to his, and he fondly looks at the strip of satin ribbon you tied to the handle of your brush to mark it as yours. 

it feels right, he thinks. to see your possessions next to his, to see traces of you everywhere he looks in his home. to be reminded of your presence by his side everyday. 

he slides into bed, a grin finding its way onto his face as he spots a little bit of dried drool at the corner of your mouth.  “hey,” he coos when you stir at the feeling of the mattress dipping with his weight. “it’s just me, no need to be alarmed.”

“kaeya?” you call sleepily. “you just got home?” 

“mhm.” he settles himself next to you, the length of his body pressing comfortably against yours. your blanket-warmed skin on his draws a content sigh from his lips. 

“what time is it?”

“something ungodly, i’m sure,” he stifles a yawn, his brows knitting together when his headache makes itself known again. “go back to sleep, darling.” 

“headache?” you ask, blinking the sleep away. he hums.

“it’s nothing, don’t worry.”

“don’t give me that, kaeya.” you wriggle closer to him, your fingers cradling his temples. your thumbs press gently, rubbing to ease the pressure. somehow, your touch helps.

he smiles, a soft puff of his breath hitting your wrists.

it feels right, he thinks, to feel you nestled against him, to hear your breathing even and content, to see your face calm and half buried in the embrace of sleep even as you clumsily attempt to soothe his aching head. 

it feels right, he thinks, to have your things scattered next to his, your keys with his and his shoes next to yours in a household chaos so wonderfully familiar.

it feels right, he thinks, to see your life so intertwined with his that they’re almost one; where he cannot imagine his days without you.

he feels you stir, hands dropping back down to rest on his chest. “what are you thinking about?” you ask. 

“you,” he says, brushing an eyelash off your cheek, completely sincere.

you huff, rolling your eyes. “sweet-talker. did you miss me that much?” you nudge him playfully.

“i did,” he admits, and your eyes soften in the face of his earnest response. 

“i missed you too.” you sleepily press a kiss to the base of his neck, where his pulse lives. “it really isn’t the same without you.”

“now who’s the sweet-talker, hmm?”

“you’re ruining the moment we’re having, kaeya.” you poke him in the chest in faux annoyance, huffing lightly. “besides, pillows shouldn’t talk.”

he chuckles. “alright, alright.” he acquiesces, his voice mellow and fond. he kisses your forehead and pulls you closer, yawning. “i’ll quiet down and be your pillow. we’ll talk in the morning.”

“mhm,” you hum in response before a yawn leaves your mouth. “goodnight, my love.”

he nudges your head with his nose. “sweet dreams, my love.”

✦ ending notes: this doesn't flow as smoothly as i'd like it to, but i still adore this with all my heart. thanks for reading. :)

✦ taglist: @maopll @number-one-love-lover (send an ask to be removed!)