#souglia.s

[souglias]

DAWN - Al Haitham

Al Haitham has an uninvited visitor early in the morning. He comes to feel that this visitor, namely you, is not unwelcome.

Al Haitham x gn!reader. Fluff.

Word count: 2.7k

c/w: none

note: special and very big thank you to @baeshijima for helping me ensure Al Haitham isn't ooc and also for the beta <3 <3 <3. And with this, the collection has come to an end :)

Dusk, Twilight, Dawn Masterlist

--

DAWN bestows a new beginning. The orange glow of the sun stretches up towards the night sky, granting the boundless overhead canopy a light blue shade. Pale light seeps in through Al Haitham’s window and spreads thinly onto the walls of his room through the daylight curtains. However, Al Haitham stays unaffected in his slumber. 

He only awakens to the muffled sound of knocks on his house door a while later. Al Haitham turns to his side and doesn’t open his eyes. He assumes that Kaveh forgot his keys before leaving for his crush’s house to complete their assignments together. But no matter, Kaveh can wait. 

Al Haitham is about to fall back asleep when the knocks come again. Al Haitham opens his eyes with a scowl. He hurls his blanket aside and drags himself out of bed, ready to give Kaveh a piece of his mind. But when he opens the door, all the words he had ready fail him. 

Instead of the architect, it is you standing at his door. You hold one suitcase in your hand and one sits on the ground beside you. Your hand is raised and you’re about to greet him, but you freese when you see the scowl on his face.

Al Haitham takes a moment to collect himself and asks, “Did you just come back to Sumeru City?”

You nod. 

“Then, why aren’t you going home to rest?”

“I have to go back to the Akademiya in about an hour and a half with one of these suitcases. It would be counterproductive to head to my house and carry this back in this direction again. Also… I was worried I would fall asleep if I returned home.”

Al Haitham reaches out for your suitcase on the floor and props the door wide open with one leg. Following that, he takes the one in your hand from you and his fingers brush against yours. You almost flinch from the sudden touch. 

Still carrying your suitcase, he leans his back on the door to let you in. Warmth fills your chest at his gesture and you feel heat rush to your face. You urge yourself not to look away, thinking he’d catch on to your feelings for him if you show any hint of embarrassment. You make your way to the sofa, suppressing a smile forming on your lips. 

As he sets your baggage down beside you, you start studying his features without realising it. It’s as if you’re seeing a picturesque view at a different time of the day. 

Al Haitham’s hair is untidy and somewhat of a mess, yet it is endearing to you. He’s wearing an oversized black shirt and baggy long green pants, different from his usual… skin-tight attire. You also notice his slightly bleary eyes, only then realising you woke him up from his sleep. 

You apologise, “I’m sorry, I thought Kaveh was at home or that you were already awake and about to prepare to head out to the Akademiya.”

Al Haitham’s gaze meets yours as he straightens up. He states, “Kaveh is completing his final assignment together with someone he likes. As for me, I’m going to the Akademiya slightly later today, so I didn’t wake up as early as I usually do.”

You don’t reply to him, only staring at him. He determines that you’re considering something.

“Yes?”

“I know it’ll sound weird but, you should go back to sleep. I can stay here by myself. I’ve been here many times, I know where things are if I need them.”

Al Haitham doesn’t like the idea of going to sleep when he could be catching up with you.

You left for your research trip to Mondstadt a few weeks ago, leaving him with an emptiness in his chest. A restless hand came to reside in that space and it clawed around in his chest as if it were looking for something outside. In an attempt to appease it, he tried writing some letters to you. 

However, Al Haitham could not find any words. He tried, but he was not one for small talk. The letters started with said small talk, but they always ended up being about what consumes him from the inside. These words birthed from his restlessness, he decided, were not yet meant for your eyes. The letters ended up in the trash and out of sight.

Finally, he’s seeing you and he wants to spend some time with you. Though, he sees the guilt in your eyes for waking him up and he caves for you.

“Okay. I’m heading back to sleep. You can use the kitchen and the living room as always. If anything, you can come to my room.”

After you nod, he turns around and heads to his room. He leaves the door slightly ajar and lies down on his bed. Despite the distance, he feels your presence on his back turned against the door. Even with his closed eyes, he can see you walking around his house with footsteps he strains to hear.

His thoughts are full of you, and he drifts off to a light sleep.

When he comes to again, he only hears the rustling of his sheets as he turns. The clock tells him he’s been asleep for a little more than half an hour. The absence of noise outside his room probes Al Haitham to get out of his bed and wash up faster than he usually does. 

On his way out of his room, he notices that the door has been fully closed. However, he immediately dismisses the thought he has, reasoning that the wind has nudged it shut instead. 

Al Haitham finds you asleep on the sofa. You sit slouched, your elbow propped up on the armrest and your face resting on your palm. A golden glow spills from the window onto one side of your face. On the table in front of you, there’s a cup of coffee with faint smoke wafting and a plate of Moon Pies. 

The fragrance of the coffee smells different from the one he always has every morning. 

One of your open suitcases catches his eye and he notices a box of Mondstadt coffee brews lying atop souvenir gifts for others. 

Al Haitham shifts his gaze back to you. As he watches you, he notices the eye bags under your eyes and a tiny cut below your cheekbone. You also look like you’ve lost a little weight.

That hand in his chest starts scraping on his insides again.

You’re smart and capable. One of the few people he can talk to about knowledge and research comfortably, even when both of you are from different Darshans. Al Haitham often hears of your stellar grades and he has no reason to doubt them.

You get along well with others and are friendly, always watching out for everyone and keeping others in your mind. He’s lost track of how many times you’ve shown up with something you thought he would like. Sometimes, though Al Haitham thinks it’s unnecessary, you’d bring something for Kaveh too.

But you have a habit of being too engrossed in your knowledge-seeking. A habit that vexes him more than he expected.

There was one time you barely slept for a week straight and passed out. He had found himself running out of class to find you in Birmarstan. The doctor and nurses reassured him that you were okay, but they let him be with his book by your bedside when he wouldn’t budge. He was only willing to leave when you awoke. When he returned to the Akademiya, he had an irritating lecturer to answer to. This lecturer wouldn’t let Al Haitham off with what he thought was a reassuring statement of  “I’ll catch up easily through self-study”.

Another time, you were out in the forest doing a research project and Al Haitham had decided to tag along. You had your mind so high up in the clouds with your theories, you ended up wandering off. You ended up getting cornered by several eremites. 

Realising that you left his sight, Al Haitham took off immediately to find you. When he had found you, you were battered and bruised. One last standing eremite stood ready to pounce at you. 

Catching both you and the eremite off guard, Al Haitham finished the eremite off. Right after that, he lost his temper. It was a first for you to see him so infuriated, and you hated that his anger was directed at you. You argued with him that you could have fended them off, but he refused to listen to you. He didn’t even realise how strong his grip was on you until you flung your hand back towards yourself. The war of words only ended when you shouted at him.

“I’m fine now! Why are you so angry and… stubborn?”

Al Haitham remembers so vividly being lost for words. With no answer for you, all he could offer was an apology. The walk back out of the forest was silent and you only apologised to him too for being so careless when you arrived back in Sumeru City. Both of you made up with a meal at Lambad’s Tavern. There was even a slight bicker over who was going to pay for the meal. But somehow, the gears between the two of you shifted since then.

Stolen glances. Accidental touches which occur way too often. Going out of his way to do something for you, only to pretend that it was nothing or that he had no involvement in it. Allowing certain things that he wouldn’t have normally allowed for others. One being his headphones. He has never lent his headphones to anyone, yet he’s personally put them on your head. 

It was difficult for Al Haitham back when he realised he had fallen for you. He thought he was sick until he realised this was what people called infatuation, which could turn into love. It was difficult to manage, but it wasn’t unwelcome and never will be.

His hand twitches. Fingers start stretching towards you.

Al Haitham’s finger only grazes the faint cut on your cheek. For once, he is afraid, afraid to let his hand do anything more than hover above your skin. His eyes still on you, he mumbles in a foreign language, “Don’t make loving you so difficult.” 

Awoken by his voice, you wake up bleary and ask, “Sorry, what did you say?”

He pulls his hand back as if he touched something he shouldn’t have. You look at him, lost as you rub the sleep out of your eyes. 

“Hello??” you say as you outstretch your hands and try to wave at him.

He sees your hand wave in front of his face, but he can’t find the words to excuse himself. If what he feels has become so unbearable that he cannot contain it, the most rational move for him is to tell you how he feels.

You see something behind you and you hop out of your seat. “I have to leave soon. Okay listen- are you listening?”

If he likes you, he should tell you. Now. That’s how straightforward it is. That’s how it should be. That’s how it’s always been. He doesn’t know why he hasn’t told you yet. How many times has he told this to himself?

You scramble to your suitcase and pull out some books. “Okay, these are for you-”

Any other way is nonsensical.

“[Name].”

It catches you by surprise and your voice trails off, “Yes…?”

He wants to be on your mind so much more, so much so there’s no capacity for anyone else. He desires more mornings with you and your brewed coffee for him.

“I like you.”

Your breath hitches and you freeze. Al Haitham sees the gears in your head shift. 

“You’re not joking, are you? I’m sure you said something entirely different in whatever language you used earlier.” 

“You’re not wrong. But I’m not joking.”

Searching his face, you try to find an ounce of humour in his expression. When your search turns up empty, you resort to replaying his words in your mind to analyse his tone. Throughout your friendship, you learn that Al Haitham makes jokes with a straight face. However, you don't detect even a glimmer of cheekiness. The “I’m joking” phrase you’ve been waiting for the entire time doesn’t fall off his lips either. 

You plop down on his sofa and bury your face in your hands. Your voice comes out muffled as you say, “Archons, you’re always like this!”

“Like what?”

You hurl your hands away from your flushed face and you look up. Gazes locked for a split second, your eyes dart away from him and your voice softens.

“You’re always so straightforward.”

Al Haitham lowers himself, levelling his eyes with yours. His hands tentatively wrap around yours, as if he’s about to pick up a priceless gem. When you don’t pull your hand away, he presses your fingertips on the spot where the gem on his chest is underneath his shirt. 

The image of the green gem you’ve seen umpteenth times surfaces in your mind. You see it so vividly. It reminds you of the green glowing blades that came raining down on that last eremite he rescued you from back then. You would never admit it to him, but if he hadn’t arrived, you think it would have been the end of you.

You only spare your hand, encased in his, a glance. The magnetic pull of his eyes pulls your gaze back. Even though you could, you find yourself unable to look away from the mesmerising teal and amber of his eyes. 

Those are the eyes that root you when you think that you are losing yourself. Yet those are the same eyes, half-lidded now, that make your world spin. 

He whispers, “And you have always been the object of my desires.”

Your heart hammers furiously against the walls of your chest. It wants to jump out of its confines and present itself to Al Haitham. Euphoria is your blood and the vessels that hold them are passages of love.

For all that he's done for you and said to you, there's only one thing you could ever say back to him.

You whisper back, “I like you too.”

“Then let’s get together.”

Together. Al Haitham finds it sweet on his tongue. Both your hands intertwine slowly, settling into each other’s touch. He holds onto it tightly. Even as you pack your research materials into your suitcase, his grasp doesn’t loosen.

“Archons, that was so… out of nowhere,” you comment as you organise and shove the papers into your suitcase with one hand. Al Haitham notices your flushed cheeks.

“How was that sudden?”

“I was trying to give you some books I got for you. Then, you just caught me off guard and said that you…” your voice trails off.

“Well, what did I say?”

You only scoff at him when you see a smirk form on his lips. You absolutely refuse to play his game. Besides, there’ll be plenty of time for you to catch him off guard as payback. He hums, trying to probe an answer out of you, but you don’t give him the satisfaction of it.

Al Haitham only lets go of your hand when you open the door, somewhat reluctant to do so with how his fingers linger and glide slowly along yours as he pulls his hands away from yours. As you are about to leave, you abruptly turn back and pull him into a hug. His arms encircle around yours like he’s embraced you many times. You rest your head on his chest for a moment, and you hear his hammering heart that has the same beat as yours. He straightens your attire when you pull away and a subtle smile of his graces you.

“See you later.”

With that, you rush off to the Akademiya with red-rimmed ears. 

Silence starts to fill the house again and Al Haitham notes that the house feels a little empty without you. He walks back to the sofa, finally processing the butterflies in his stomach. He places his palm on his lips, right on the spot where your touch ghosts his hand. With that, he starts eating the breakfast you made. For him.

He hums. It is still warm, just like daybreak after a cold night.

--

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#al haitham x reader #alhaitham x reader #favoniuslibrary #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham #genshin impact #alhaitham imagines #genshin writing #genshin imagines #souglia.s #haitham this is my fic to u please give me ur cons next tuesday

[souglias]

Jaded.

You've come to find that this word has made a place in you. Even possibly, it's become you. For a word that contains the name of a precious gem, it is largely undesired.

But enough of you has been broken by those before, and you've done enough damage unto others.

A lone tree in an almost barren garden. That's what you've resigned yourself to be. You will not search for love, nor will you surround yourself with love. Like a warrior out to war, you will clad your too-brittle heart with diamond armour. A stingy merchant you will be, unwilling to give away any part of yourself.

Yet with the light flick of his fingers on your forehead, a seemingly saturnine man makes a deep indent on the walls of your glass city.

Al Haitham is worming his way into that rock-hard organ people would say is your heart with his silent acts. It sets off alarm sirens in your body.

Thoughts of him keep you awake at night and this by itself feels like a threat to your safe zone. If you choose to love him, you will eventually lay yourself and everything about yourself bare to him. There is no one to say that he will hold them the way he handles out-of-print research books filled with priceless knowledge. Nobody can guarantee you he will not take the deepest secrets you've hidden away and point them at you as a weapon in the future. The cycle of hurt and being hurt will begin again. An earthquake rumbles within you and you toss and turn in bed to distract yourself from it.

On those same soundless nights, you also wonder about letting him have a more cardinal role in your life. His fleeting touches set your skin alight and you cannot cease the thoughts about a more prolonged contact. His eyes are a scene you want to relish in, and you find the self-imposed time restraint in admiring them slightly challenging to adhere to. With just the tap of his book on your head and a few candid words, he dispels all the baseless worries you hold so heavily in your mind.

Your mind wanders to a possibility where he would preserve you and everything precious to you. One where you would thaw and let your garden bloom with flowers.

You will find euphoria in the way Al Haitham's hair tickles your fingers when you run your hand through the strands. For the years you have left, you will find hope in his eyes that are of the same colour as the distant fluorescent mushrooms in the flourishing Mawtiyima Forest. When your walls can no longer hold, you will find solace in his secure arms that will safeguard you.

Al Haitham's arms will pull you up in the darkest of days. The sound of his constant heartbeat will come to soothe you on your toughest nights and will tide you over to see the first rays of light. His rare smiles will be yours and only yours to find strength in.

The seemingly saturnine scribe of the Akademiya will water the fragile seedlings when you bring yourself to plant them again. He will let the warmth of the sun gradually thaw its way through the frozen lake. If you will be his eventually, then there will be no rush.

—

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#al haitham x reader #alhaitham x reader #favoniuslibrary #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham #alhaitham imagines #genshin impact #genshin writing #genshin drabbles #souglia.s #something experimental I wanted 2 try heeh #also written on a whim LOL bc im tired of planning rn

[souglias]

Remember To Throw Your Expired Milk [GINTOKI]

Just because an era has passed, doesn't mean everything from then is lost.

c/w: self-indulgent, may have some timeline inaccuracies, mentions of the Joui War, mentions of injuries and scars

Gintoki x gn!reader (reader is implied to be smaller than him for a small part)

word count: 4.7k words (I'm sorry guys)

note: This fic serves an outlet for me, so when I mean self-indulgent, I really mean it!! Please let me know if you think I missed any content warnings. Border is a cropped frame from the Gintama The Final movie :)

cross-posted on AO3 (accessible from my profile)!

All likes and reblogs are appreciated!

The morning before you leave for the Joui war is a chilly autumn, with the last leaves barely hanging onto their branches. The four of you were to leave together: You, Gintoki, Takasugi and Katsura.

This particular morning, it is just you and Gintoki in the abandoned house that Takasugi and Katsura also lived in. Both of them have gone out for a bit. You didn’t know for what, but the house feels a little empty without the two.

Gintoki is keenly aware of you standing behind him, your eyes burning holes into his hands that are tightening his headband. He is about to attach his sword but decides to drop his hands to his sides instead, shaking them.

With his back still facing you, he spits, "Go back to Edo tonight. You have no use on the battlefield."

The monotonous banter, usually akin to a relentless fly, stings this time. It takes only a moment for him to realise the possible weight of his words. Tentatively, he looks over his shoulder at you. 

Gintoki doesn't know if he is more than a friend to you, but he would carry all your burdens and sorrow if it meant you wouldn’t enter the battlefield with them. If he has to choose his life or yours, he will choose yours. He would do anything if it meant that you would tease him about his natural perm or jab him playfully at his sides again. 

So, when he meets your unwavering yet melancholic gaze, he breaks the eye contact that barely lasts. His feet become a little heavier each time he sees you with that face. The more he trudges forward, the more he has to lose.

"I'm not useless. You know I can fight. Didn’t know you had such a shit impression of me."

You can, and you fight well. 

“But you don’t need to fight. You should protect your ass when you can and live. You’ve always been a scared kid anyway. Oh, who was the one who used to be intimidated by me?”

You retort back, but there’s no bite in it. “Shut your ass trap. I’m not chickening out now. You sound like the one who’s scared now.”

Gintoki’s heart is trembling. He sees the grim reaper preparing for its shift to make rounds and he does not want to see you among a pile of corpses. 

He flicks your forehead, takes your headband anyway and wraps it around your head. You too, carry the same pent-up fury from the Kansei Purge as everyone else. You have your grievances to air in your way too. Hell, if you asked him not to fight, he would have called you an idiot and ignored you.

His arms hover around your head as he ties a knot securely at the back of your head. Your head is almost on his chest, and his mind wanders to how close you are to him. 

“It hurts.”

“Ah, sorry.” 

His hands move to loosen your headband, but you rest one hand on his forearm to stop him. You stare straight into his chest and your free hand fidgets with the side of your pant leg. Gintoki realises that you are thinking about so much more than the headband. 

If he could even be audacious, he thinks he knows what you are thinking of. 

He tries to think of something to say. For a split moment, he even considers a hug. Even though it’s not something he has ever been good with. But before he gets to do anything at all, Takasugi creeps up from behind him.

“I can’t believe you guys. Getting all touchy-feely before the fight?” 

Gintoki immediately steps back, creating some distance between the two of you. He hurls some insults at Takasugi and the two of them bicker. When Katsura returns, instead of breaking up the fight, he joins in their nonsensical argument that is not even about the two of you anymore.

You take in this scene and etch it in your mind. This is the perfect time to have time halt if it is ever possible.

The four of you set out when it was time. As you attach your sword to your side, Gintoki comes up to you with his faux nonchalance. His eyes wander everywhere for a bit, one of his hands rubs the back of his head and the other seems to be lost on what to do. "You already know this, but do me a favour and buy me some strawberry milk on your next trip to the convenience store again. Keep them in the fridge.” 

He pauses as he watches your face shift from confusion to understanding.

“It has to be the Azuri brand one! Don't you dare drink it."

Your hand resting on the handle of your sheathed sword tightens.

“Okay, you better fucking come for it.”

Gintoki catches you with that melancholic smile again. He bumps your arm gently with his fist. Noticing you walk with less of a drag in your feet, he assumes it is good enough.

(You are always so difficult for him.)

Sometime towards the end of the Joui war, when the bodies all start to pile up and the soldiers are all weary, he loses sight of you. His eyes can no longer find the silhouette he has become so familiar with and his ears cannot find the rhythm of your steps that he has memorised by heart. You do not return to base when night falls. 

The voices all say you’re dead and gone, but Gintoki tries to protect the flickering flame of hope in his heart as he continues to fight. You promised him a carton- no, cartons of strawberry milk. You are far from stupid to take a promise to the afterlife with you. 

But when the Joui war ends, he disappears, just like everyone else. Along with the dying fire in his heart that he wilfully thought he could protect. Hope is a heavy thing to carry after all that has happened. 

The Amanto, who had kept you in a dark room for what felt like weeks, releases you into a world you are no longer familiar with. You find out that it’s only been days and that you were originally to be executed the next day. 

The sky is cluttered with more spaceships and the sun feels a little more cruel than you knew it to be. You walk with no aim, looking back now and then, thinking that you hear familiar voices. It goes on till the sight of the convenience store you frequented with your friends slowly pulls you back to reality. The weight of your emotions kicks in when you hear the welcome chime of the store. Your wounds start to weep and your muscles burn as you limp towards the refrigerator of cooled drinks. 

With a throat full of screams you bite back, you place a few cartons of strawberry milk from the barren refrigerator of the convenience store into your arms. Large ones to keep in the fridge, small ones in the event he wants to bring it out. The counter staff asks you if you are okay while he packs your purchases, but you simply brush him off.

As you drag your unwilling feet into the town that spells a lonely journey into the future, the carton of strawberry milk treads too to its expiration date. 

(How naive of you, to think Edo would be the town you could call home with everyone you cared about and the one man you loved.)

-

You wander within the city after you receive treatment, searching for a sign of anyone you know. Eventually, you traverse out of Edo. 

Whenever someone mentions the Four Heavenly Kings, you find your spirit to be lifted, only to be let down without fail. It is a name that strangers use so freely and carelessly. The four you know are now only legends, reduced to mere tales. They are unreachable, even as someone who has grown with them. You start to think maybe they are dead. Maybe you have just been searching for a time that has ceased to exist.

(Besides, you may have escaped death when you were released, but you think a part of you died that day too.)

It’s a long time before you force yourself to get your shit together. When you return to Edo, you see wanted posters of Katsura everywhere, the corners already peeling. One, hangs on by a small strip of tape, at a lamp post outside a humble ramen shop on the outskirts. You get a job at this ramen shop, and you stare at Katsura’s mugshot as you work until the poster gets blown away one day. With your pay, you get by and live in a simple rented apartment nearby.

When you finally bump into Katsura himself, you think you’re seeing the distant light at the end of the winding tunnel. He manages to fill you in on a bit, but takes off soon due to his predicament. The bare, discreet conversation you have with him ends up doing the opposite of what you hoped, whiffing out the little hope you carried instead. Sakamoto is assumed to be in space, which makes you a little relieved knowing he’s living his dream. But, the fact that the whereabouts of Gintoki and Takasugi are still uncertain makes you feel you’re still at square one. 

Despite the time that has passed, you still see Gintoki in many things. The Shounen Jump on the shelves. Anyone with their permed hair, even if it’s clearly artificial. And especially those fucking cartons of strawberry milk you keep. They are an anchor to your past and their tarnished, rusted edges dig into your skin. You want to throw them out so bad, but you can never bring yourself to. You stay at square one with these rotting cartons for the passing seasons.

On a chilly winter afternoon with snow that’s taking its time to fall, you find Gintoki when you pass through Kabukicho. Walking past Snack Otose, you catch a glimpse of a head of silver in your peripheral vision. 

You don’t recall when this… Yorozuya Gin-Chan came to be above Snack Otose. But you always pass Kabukicho in a hurry. Maybe it has always been there.

An old lady talks to him at his door, blocking him from your view on the ground floor. But you wouldn’t mistake that natural wavy perm of silver, even though all you see are strands peeking out from the sides of the old lady.

When she walks off with a face of frustration, you withdraw into a nearby alley in a flurry. You take in the scene of Gintoki with his exasperated look. He scratches his head a little and sighs, before he goes back inside. You take it as your sign to leave.

(Gintoki sees you. And he isn’t ready to talk to you either. Not with the way your fists clench. He immediately guesses what you’re feeling, if you have not changed immensely into someone different. He shakes away the urge to approach you and convinces himself again that just knowing that you are alive and warm is enough. He is content.)

The snow does not stop even when night falls. When Gintoki returns home, he turns the television on and stretches out with his feet propped up on his work desk. The doorbell rings and he sits up. His heart throbs, in anticipation for a certain someone. He tames it. Expectation is a potential recipe for disappointment.

When he opens the door, he finds you carrying two plastic bags. Your hands are very tightly wrapped around the handles. You refuse to look up at him.

“What? Asshole crawled back up from their grave? Not happy with what you got?”

You enter the house wordlessly and he shuffles out of your path. You drop the bags on the coffee table, causing a loud thud to resound in the room.

“Hey hey, the landlady downstairs is going to complain. She already came up bitching about the rent earlier this afternoon-”

“I owe you something. Did you forget?”

You pull a small carton of strawberry milk out of the bag and set it on the table. It is worn from weather and time. You rip open the top of the carton and the straw gets yanked out of the plastic, soon finding itself in the opening. 

Shoving the carton into his chest, you gather the courage to look him in the eye. The carton starts to wrinkle even more from your tightening grip. You hold it tighter, as if it would stop your tears from welling.

He notices the expiry date printed on the carton, which was more than one and a half years ago. His hand wraps around yours and he doesn’t let you slip them out.

“I don’t forget what people owe me that easily. Even if I died, I would demand for the guardians of hell to arrange a delivery to get them from you.”

Your grip loosens a little when you notice the soft, subtle smile on his face. There’s a lump in your throat again and you take a few deep breaths to stop it. The sound of the television fills the silence between the two of you for a bit.

“A little less than a year ago, I crossed paths with Zura. He told me both of you disappeared and didn’t know where you were.”

The next few words almost escape him. It makes you feel small and helpless to say it, even though he was right in front of you. “I thought maybe you died.”

A stray tear streaks down your cheek. He gently pries the milk from your hands and sets it down on the table.

(He thought you died too. Sure, without realising it, he started to carry hope in his heart again. But it felt like the weight of the world sometimes, and he had to carry it by dragging it across the ground. The possibility of you being six feet under rang so loud in his mind.

It only became lighter when he bumped into Katsura for the first time a few days ago. It was when he heard about you from Katsura. Gintoki headed down and watched you work in the ramen shop from the other side of the road. He left without approaching you. He didn’t know what he was going to say to you. Besides, seeing him could reopen old wounds and he didn’t want to do that to you. And just maybe, he was a little bit of a coward when it comes to you.

But he guesses it is all futile. You found him after all.)

With his thumb, he brushes your cheek. You notice scars on his arm that you don’t ever recall him having.

“You worry too much. It takes a lot to kill me.”

“But it hurt, didn’t it?”

It did. Even now, the wounds on his soul throb a little. He thinks he’s underestimated how much he missed you. “They’re just scratches.”

You inch towards him and put your arms around him for a hug. He tenses up at your touch, but he manages to loosen up and pats your back gently until you stop crying.

“Did you cry like that when you found Zura?”

“No.”

A stray smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t waste your tears on Zura.”

“So you’re saying it’s worth it to cry for you?”

Gintoki’s eyes dart off in another direction. “No. Don't cry for me again.”

The way his sentence seemingly hangs thickens the air between the two of you. He scoffs and sits down on the sofa. Refusing to make eye contact with you, he rubs the back of his head and frowns.

He is still the Gintoki you committed to your memory and love. Even as time passes, he still has the same habits. Even though his fashion sense has changed, you still see him adorn the same shades. You can still see the pureness of his soul even with the haze of time. Despite the tears, you find a hearty laugh rising up your throat. So you let it out. 

He freezes upon hearing your laugh and realises that he has not heard something so genuine from you for so long, even from before the two of you parted.

As he runs his fingers through his natural perm for the last time and stands up, he suggests, “Let’s go to the supermarket. We should get new cartons.”

You glance at the clock. “Sorry, maybe not today. It takes a while to get to the supermarket and I need to get back to my apartment too. I live on the outskirts.”

“I’ll send you back. I have a scooter now.”

“Wow, I assumed you couldn’t pay rent. Where did you get the money for that? Did you rob a bank? It’s well within the capabilities of the White Yaksha.”

His eyebrow twitches. “Quit yapping and move along. I bargained hard and relentlessly for a lower price.”

As both of you make your way to the scooter, you continue to make more snarky comments about how he got the scooter. When you see the scooter, you decide to make some more comments about the scooter, though you actually think it is a fine thing. He smacks you on the head, eliciting a giggle from you instead of what he thought would be a retort.

“Your home is so damned far away, you know,” Gintoki complains as he turns on the engine.

“You were the one who offered.”

Without much thought, you tease him as you sit behind him, “Then, where should I stay? With you?” 

You realise what you’ve asked and you’re about to make a comment to brush it off. But Gintoki plops a helmet on your head before you can do so, and starts the scooter. As he begins to drive off, you place your hands tentatively on his waist. He throws a glance over his shoulder at you. “Hold on tight and don’t let go.”

It doesn’t take long for you to get used to your hand on him and he can feel your tense hands slowly relax. With his eyes on the road in front of him, he’s not 100% sure, but he thinks you’re leaning in a little.

(The scooter doesn’t go as fast as those flashy sports cars the rich use to zoom around town. But you still get to the convenience store a lot quicker than you expected. It’s too fast, you feel like you will never have enough time with him. 

Even though he is right in front of you, the lost time makes the vast distance between the two of you so clear. It is one that you cannot cross now with your arms, even if you gathered the courage to wrap them wholly and tightly around him. The thought that he might disappear again will gnaw at you for a while.

That night, he pays for the strawberry milk. The two of you take the last two cartons of the Azuri brand he very much prefers. You take your time to sip on it during the ride, watching his wavy hair let loose in the wind and catch the lights of the slowly dwindling traffic around you.)

-

Gintoki gives you a face when he looks up from the grocery bag on the coffee table. His eyes fill with incredulity and his lips downturn dramatically. "What is this?"

You put up an air of innocence, teasing in a sing-song voice, "What's what?"

"THIS!"

He pulls out a carton of milk from the grocery bag with two fingers gripping it and waves it around hysterically.

"This is plain milk!"

"You're stating the obvious."

He drops the carton back into the grocery bag and yells out in exasperation, hands grasping at nothing in the air. You stifle a laugh.

"Still gives you the protein that you so absolutely love in your strawberry milk, doesn't it?"

He plops down on the sofa and crosses his arms. Eyebrow twitching, he begins a lecture.

"Listen [name]. Plain milk is not the same as strawberry milk. Strawberry milk is NOT just syrup or sugar getting added into milk."

You nod, pursing your lips so as not to let out a laugh at the bewildering he says and the ones he might say. 

His doctor highly recommended that he cut down on sugar. Based on your internet searches, strawberry-flavoured milk has more sugar than plain ones. And because you love your boyfriend so much, you decide to take it into your own hands to buy plain milk which would be much better for his health. Watching him become exasperated over it is just a huge cherry on top.

Sensing that you found his reasoning ridiculous, he whines and throws himself face down onto his sofa. You don’t bother to suppress your laughter when he starts kicking his feet. 

Out of nowhere, he jumps off the sofa and slides his wooden sword into his belt. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? You offered to buy it because you planned this, right? Because the doctor said I had to reduce my sugar intake.”

How dare you, his beloved, commit such an act of betrayal to him! He adds a little shout in between his rambling. Then, adds, “Sugar is life, [name]! We have to go buy them now!”

He tugs at your arm and you refuse to budge. Initially, you reason that he can’t leave the house because Yorozuya’s opening hours aren’t over yet. As he tugs harder, you start to mock him for having such a sweet tooth, how he’s weak for being unable to go by without strawberry milk and how ungrateful he is for you. He retorts back saying you shouldn’t have backstabbed your boyfriend like that, and there’s nothing sinful with having a sweet tooth. In the end, he lifts you by your waist with his arm and out of the house into the spring evening. Conscious of the looks of onlookers, you smack him on his back harder and harder till he complains about how it hurts and puts you down.

Gintoki continues to lecture you about the strawberry milk as the two of you walk to the convenience store that opened months ago. In the five-minute walk, you let him go on about the difference and hum now and then as an indication that you are listening. At the same time, you imagine the pink cherry blossom buds overhead. You imagine the falling sakura blooms around him. A mental image of the blossoms in his silver hair surfaces.

When he finishes his sentence, you comment, “I think you could be a strawberry parfait too.”

“Huh?”

It’s now your turn to talk in this walk and Gintoki sees the vision you’re having. He’s about to make a dirty joke, but you jab him at his side before he can say it.

When the two of you enter the store, he runs straight to the refrigerator. You trail behind him, already finding his arms full of large and small Maiji milk cartons although it has only been one minute. 

It has become normal for Gintoki to take the Maiji brand carton without a second thought. You can no longer find the Azuri brand milk in Edo anymore, and possibly the whole of Japan. It took him a little getting used to and some whining to you, but he has come to enjoy it. 

When you watch him try to arrange and squeeze everything into the basket, you think maybe your plan to help him cut down on sugar has backfired. Mans simply trying to stock up at this point. You end up having to do some convincing in that narrow aisle, with some other shoppers, for this manchild to put a few back.

From the refrigerator to the cashier and back to Yorozuya, Gintoki keeps pouting. You poke his cheek with his free hand, but all you get is a “hmph”. He’s not going to give in so easily! It takes so much more than paying for his sweets and saying he looks like a strawberry parfait!!

You think about offering to pay for his parfait, but you tell yourself not to give in to him. You want him to live a long life and die of old age, not go out way before his time in agony because of sugar.

Gintoki plops down at the corner of the sofa when the two of you return to Yorozuya. He starts reading the latest copy of Shounen Jump with one leg crossed on the sofa, sipping loudly on his milk in an attempt to irritate you. You sit on the other corner with your drink and magazine you bought yourself earlier, and you prop your feet on top of his lap. He smacks your feet once, but he lets you be as he always does. On other days, he enjoys doing it to you too. 

Every now and then, you look up to see him engrossed in his manga. Sometimes when you blink, you still see images of the past versions of him with Katsura and Takasugi at his side.

You get up and give him a kiss on the cheek, before heading to the stairs outside. He’s a bit caught off guard, but you leave him to process it.

On the street downstairs, a few kids scramble around, presumably to head home. Your mind wanders to the three boys you grew up with. There are still days you think you wake from your nap in the classroom to the three boys duking it out in the dojo. But when your bleary vision in the morning clears and you notice that the ceiling above is different from the one at Shoka Sonjuku, reality settles. It’s just a ruckus made by some kids outside. You stare at the ceiling, remembering that Takasugi is at large with his new comrades. You remember that Zura now has his own faction, which both you and Gintoki reject his relentless invitations to. You remember that Shoyo-sensei is gone. 

You hear the sliding door open behind you and Gintoki leans on the part of the ledge beside you. 

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

Gintoki notices you running your finger back and forth on the grooved surface of the ledge. He places a kiss on your temple. A little hesitant at first, but he goes for it. He then shifts behind you slightly, resting his hand on top of yours. With his steady frame behind you, you lean back a little on him. 

(Gintoki wonders what Shoyo-sensei would think about the two of you. Hopefully, he approves, even though Shoyo had witnessed him disturbing you in class and outside of it. Hell, Shoyo even thought Gintoki was bullying you at one point and Gintoki had gone to lengths to prove otherwise. He would also argue that he was teasing you to get you to break out of your shell. Though in hindsight, maybe he had been a little mean about a few things.)

The wish to return to the bygone days still squeezes your heart with its agony. The days that Shoka Sonjuku was your home. Its invisible hands still try to grasp at the memories that are becoming ever-distant and drifting away in the stream of time. It is always the worst when you find resemblances that you find hard to ignore.

But everyone has found their place in this new era, including you. The night he dropped you off after reuniting, he asked you’ll come to Yorozuya again. You said you’d try, but no promises because it was far. Though, as you watched his receding figure ride back into the brightly lit town you once detested, you knew you would. 

You're glad you did. After all, you found a place with Gintoki. A place, in this still unfamiliar city, that you can finally bring yourself to call home again. 

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading this self-indulgent, monster of a fic <3

#sakata gintoki x reader #gintoki x reader #sakata gintoki #gintoki imagines #gintama imagines #gintama x reader #gintama #souglia.s #my gintoki lovergirl era really hit this hard #this is my saddest era too esp bc of the songs I've been listening to while writing this #now I have other monsters to face aka my final assignments #still can't believe I spit out 4.7k worth of words for this man #I am very downbad for him #when I have the time watch me yap about the themes and shit and stuff I couldn't include

[souglias]

DUSK - [Childe]

Childe has been trying to tell you something. But the end of the day is approaching, and he hasn't managed to get it out to you yet.

Childe x gn!reader. Slight angst with hopeful ending. This takes place one day after his story quest.

Word count: 3.1k

c/w: none

note: Sending much love to @iridescene for inspiring this fic and also to @monocaelia for giving me her childe kisser approval for this fic. <3 <3

Dusk, Twilight, Dawn masterlist

--

DUSK calls for the slumber of the sun and the coming rise of the dark sky. Childe has something to tell you before he leaves Liyue tomorrow morning. But such a seemingly simple task has stumped the Eleventh Harbinger for the day thus far. 

Childe chalks it up to your anger, but he never thought it would drive him into corners.

He had written a letter to your home days ago, asking you to meet up so that he could make it up to you. He contemplated visiting, but he wasn’t sure if it would infuriate you to see him. You didn’t reply to his letter, so he wasn’t even sure if you would turn up. 

Regardless, Childe had already made the reservation at Xinyue Kiosk. He was going to wait for you there. If you wanted to humiliate him by standing him up, he would simply accept it.

It wasn’t to say that he didn’t care whether or not you showed up though. As the time neared, his eyes darted between the crowd and the clock he could see through the glass of the restaurant doors. He didn’t realise he was holding his breath until he spotted you walking towards the restaurant. 

The tension left his body when he saw you, and he waved to you. However, you didn’t return a greeting with such enthusiasm, only giving him an emotionless side eye when you came to his side. That was all it took for his shoulders to stiffen up again.

At the dining table, the air remained tense; the atmosphere chilling. Throughout the meal, the only sounds present were that of your bowl whenever it was placed on the table and the occasional clink of your chopsticks on your ceramic bowl. 

Whenever he tried to get your attention by clearing his throat, you kept your eyes on your food. If he called your name, you would pretend that something in the dish had caught your eye. 

The only thing that provided him solace was seeing that you still ordered and enjoyed your favourite dishes. You’re a Liyuean and you don’t live far from here, but you don’t often come due to its long wait times and the high prices. 

Temporarily, Childe resigned to his defeat. He would catch you before you left the restaurant. So, when you stood up, Childe tried to grab your hand. But he stopped short when you talked to him for the first time today. 

“I want to stop by Wangsheng Funeral Parlour.”

At your sudden words, Childe only managed to nod. The walk there was silent, staring at the back of your head as he wondered about the purpose of your visit. However, as he walked on, a thought came to hold an immense weight in his mind. 

You were trying to embarrass him. 

You knew he had tried to obtain the Geo Gnosis for the Tsaritsa, only to be played as a piece in Morax’s game. Now, you’re bringing him straight back to the said Archon. 

No, maybe he was reading too much into this. You were angry, but Childe knew you as someone who would not do something backhanded. More importantly, he had to find a way to get you to willingly listen to him. No matter his pride. He tried to shove the thought to the back of his mind and pressed on. 

Though, Childe made sure to keep his distance. While Traveller’s presence was a surprise, he largely wanted to avoid Zhongli. He leaned on the wall adjacent to the entrance and watched you walk into the parlour with Zhongli and Traveller. 

A while later, Zhongli walked out of the parlour. He strode over to Childe with his hands behind him. He quipped, “I thought you would have left Liyue Harbour by now, Master Childe.”

Childe crossed his arms and scoffs, “I’m leaving tomorrow at daybreak.” 

Zhongli chuckles, finding it amusing that Childe was still upset with him. He glanced back at the parlour and looked back at Childe, who was staring off into the distance. 

“A mora for your thoughts? I assume it’s likely about [name].”

Childe sighed, “They’re angry- no, infuriated- at me for what I was attempting to do to Liyue. Of course, anyone would, but… Archons,” He pauses, running a hand through his hair. 

“I’ve been trying to tell them something, but it’s not getting through.”

Zhongli only hummed.

Childe mumbles, “What am I doing? Talking to an Archon whose nation I tried to destroy about my personal affairs…”

“Well, I hope you two get to talk it out. It’d be quite a pity otherwise.”

Childe raised his eyebrows at Zhongli. Before Childe could question Zhongli, you emerged from the parlour with Traveller. After the Traveller took his leave and Zhongli headed back into the parlour, a stifling silence weighed down on the both of you again. 

Taking a deep breath, Childe steeled his resolve to break this thick wall between the two of you.

“[name], I need to talk to you.”

“Okay.” 

Childe reeled a little from surprise, eyes widened. There was no longer an air of purposeful defiance that surrounded you. When he regained his composure, he stated, “I want to show you a place. I’ll tell you when we’re there.”

Now, you trail behind him, not uttering a word throughout the whole walk to the said location. He mostly keeps his eyes on the road ahead or up at the soft red-hued sky, only sending occasional glances back at you. He notices that your eyes are always wandering and he wonders if you ever looked his way. 

You only speak to ask him where he’s headed when both of you reach a forested area with no path. 

“The location’s a surprise I’ve always wanted to show you, but I never got to.”

When Childe sees a hint of doubt cross your eyes, it pricks at his heart. He stops in his tracks. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

When you only stare at him as a response, he feels himself become fragile glass on the edge of a table. A rubber band that’s about to snap. He remembers his weak grasp on you and he hates it. Childe doesn’t know if you are going to turn away and leave him.

You mumble an “okay”, taking a step towards him. 

This prompts him to continue moving forward, and he releases a breath he yet again didn’t realise he was holding. Both of you continue to walk in silence until the vegetation becomes less dense and the ground becomes muddier. 

With the slippery ground, your safety comes to his mind. Childe extends out his hand to you and his gaze locks with yours. Eyes darting towards his hand, your hand twitches. Slowly, your fingers touch his gloved hand. Then, your palm rests on his. With a gentle grasp, he curls his fingers around your hand. When you familiarise the feeling of his hands around yours, you nod at him and he leads slightly ahead of you.

The rest of the journey remains as silent as before. However, it is sprinkled with little words of caution from Childe to you. Tightening grips of his hand to help you cross a particularly slippery path, to a tender hold when he knows you’re safe.

Gradually, the trees clear out and in your immediate front is a marsh. Some starconches lay on the edge of the water, glimmering in the sunlight. Little mudskippers jump about the clear waters, creating a soothing melody when they touch its surface. Beyond the marsh, the sea opens up. The sun has set midway right at the horizon as if submerging itself into the sea. Its reddish-orange glow seeps into the sea, and your eyes catch specks of glitter on the sea surface.

A light breeze caresses your cheek. As if pulled by a rope, you walk towards the water's surface. Your hand slides out of Childe’s hand. 

At the edge of the water, you crouch down to pick up a glimmering starconch. When you stand up to raise it to the sky, Childe thinks that now is the moment.

“[name], I’m leaving at daybreak-”

“It was like a dream. You and me.”

All the words Childe has prepared on the edge of his tongue for you vanish into thin air. The inside of his mouth turns dry and he feels a knife twist in his chest. 

He utters, “I’m sorry, [name]. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Rage stirs in Childe’s chest. He has done so much that hurt you beyond what he could imagine, and all he could say was two sentences of an apology. Childe closes the distance between the two of you, and he stops directly behind you.

“I really like you, [name]. I really do. I don’t know when but I started looking forward to adventuring out with you whenever I had time.”

He pauses, hoping for a response. When you don’t turn to face him, he continues, “You probably already know but, I enjoyed fighting the monsters and treasure hoarders with you. We created so many good memories together.” 

His fists clench up at his side. 

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect the happiness that came with it and... I’m sorry I couldn’t protect the dream I have given to you.” 

Promises are to be kept, mistakes are to be apologised for and dreams are to be protected. That’s what family is to Childe. To you, hearing that means he considers you family, even if there has been nothing between the two of you. 

He likes you. He cares about you. And these thoughts crush you like the weight of the world. They are gems on your hands that you deem so filthy. You feel undeserving and you are horribly lost on whether you can accept them because you cannot decisively choose between him or your homeland.

You turn back towards him in one second, ready to launch a barrage of insults at him. However, when you see the soft reddish glow of the sun on his face, you realise this is the first time today you’ve looked at him properly. All you see are his smiles that you selfishly hope are reserved only for you. 

You mutter, “I hate you, you know? I wish I could watch you crash and suffer in the destruction that comes biting back at you.”

Childe feels like he’s fallen into the abyss again, powerless against the monsters that prowl in the shadows of every corner. He could run then, but he will not run this time.

“I know. I’m sorry for all that I’ve done to hurt you… and I’m sorry that I have to go like this.”

Pleasant partings are something Childe wants, especially with you. He wanted to say goodbye with the hope that he would see you again. Yet, he is leaving with you harbouring such horrid impressions and memories of him.

“I know you won’t forgive me so easily for attempting to destroy your homeland. I… couldn’t have done otherwise too. But if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, shoot it my way. Even when we’re away from each other, write me a letter. If you need me to knock someone off their porch, tell me. Tell me how much you hate me, how you want to watch me burn… and maybe how you could forgive me if you ever figured that out.”

You choke on a sob and a tear streaks down your cheek. Childe’s hand twitches with the urge to wipe your tears away from you, cup your cheek and tell you that everything’s going to be okay. 

But he deems that he does not have the right to.

In between sobs, you rasped, “When I found out the man I admired so much had attempted to destroy my home, I felt the world collapse before me. I told myself you are a criminal. You cannot be forgiven in the eyes of any Liyuean. Sometimes I even wonder if all you’ve ever done for me was part of a performance. But no matter what, I still liked you, I couldn’t erase my feelings. It felt so wrong. I felt so guilty.”

You attempt to wipe your flowing tears away with the back of your hand, but they continue to run down your cheeks endlessly. 

“Yes. I want you to burn, I want you to suffer. But the mere thought of it hurts me. You’ve put yourself in enough danger and you’ve hurt yourself enough.”

Letting go of his restraint, Childe pulls you into a hug. You let yourself tremble in his embrace, and you bury your head in his shoulder. He whispers as he cradles your head, “I know. I know. I’m sorry.”

Childe strokes your head and whispers more apologies. He does so until you quieten down. When you do, you take a deep breath. With much reluctance, you bring yourself to tell him, “I’m leaving Liyue tomorrow too.”

Trying to process what you’ve said, Childe tears himself away from you. He searches your face for any hint of humour, but he doesn’t find one. Suddenly, there is an even greater distance before the two of you, one that feels even more unimaginable than he thought. 

He’s staring at you for a bit too long, deep in his thoughts. Your eyes dart away, and a tinge of pink dusts your cheeks. 

“I really like you too, by the way.”

Childe’s heart skips a beat and his breath hitches. A critical hit to his already weak heart from the day. Maybe the distance won’t matter.

Without waiting for him to respond, you walk over to and sit on the dry surface of a large rock that rises above the water. You pat the spot next to you. When Childe sits down, you rest your head on his shoulder. He notices that you don’t lean your weight entirely on him and gently pats your head. At that gesture, you relax.

As a passing thought, you comment, “I wish we met under better circumstances.”

Childe doesn’t respond to that, and he lets the sea breeze that runs through his hair carry your words out to the ocean. They’ll go far away and soon, they will no longer matter. 

In the comforting silence, questions surface in his mind. “Can I ask you two things?”

You hum. 

“Why did you let me explain myself?”

“When we went to Wangsheng Funeral Parlour, I wanted to say goodbye to Zhongli and the Traveller happened to be there. As I was talking to them, Traveller told me to give you a chance, especially since you mattered to me so much. They said you are a ‘bad guy’ as you had said yourself, but you’re not really one either.”

Childe thanks the Traveller in his heart and promises to repay them for this debt. A wave of relief also washes over him, knowing that it was not your intention to shame him.

“So… where will you be going now?”

“Not sure honestly. Maybe Sumeru? I just felt like I needed to leave Liyue for a bit, see the world and use it to navigate to any leftover problems I have.”

He is very well aware he has caused a lot of your ‘leftover problems’, but Childe detects no malice in your tone. This gives him a surge of confidence, leading him to suggest, “Let’s still write letters and stay updated with each other.”

You tease him, “Still up for me to ask you to knock someone off their porch?”

He laughs (a pleasant sound to your ears) and nods. You ask, “Promise?”

Childe raises his pinky. You raise yours too and your pinkies hook with each other’s firmly. For the first time today, both of you smile without a hint of despair.

“Promise.”

Both of you stay at the scene, leaning against each other until the night stretches out from the edges of the sky. Childe stands up and he offers his hand to you. Immediately, you slide your hand into his and intertwine your fingers with his. 

As he gazes into your eyes for what could be the last time in a while, Childe cups your cheek. He closes the distance between your faces very slowly, checking every moment to make sure you are comfortable. However, just as his lips hover above yours, he pulls away.

Childe hears you gasp and he panics. “Oh Archons- wait [name], I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bait you or anything like that.”

His eyes dart away as he scratches the nape of his neck. “Sorry, I thought maybe we should do this the next time we meet. It gives us a good reason to meet soon and we’ll cherish it even more, right?”

You scoff at him and pinch his cheeks, mildly annoyed you didn’t get the kiss. But distance makes the heart fonder, and you can’t refute that.

“You better not regret it, Mr Tartaglia.”

“Ajax.”

You raise your eyebrows, prompting him to explain more. Even with your confused face, he finds you adorable. His signature grin finds its way back on his lips.

“That’s my real name. I want you to have it and call me that.”

“Okay, Ajax.”

Childe catches the way you slow down to articulate his name. He finds that his name has become sacred after it falls off your lips. 

And he realises he has been stricken with an illness all this while. 

It is a fever that burns him from his heart. It is one that he can feel spreading on his skin. Sometimes, it becomes unbearable as if no water is ever going to cool him. 

An illness called love.

It will continue to plague him. Especially because he knows he will most likely regret not going for that kiss. 

However, it is the end of a scalding illness with no recovery in sight. He would take this fever on any day, for you will be the eventual remedy that he will have at the end. He can already imagine his lips on yours and his remedy will be so, so saccharine.

Childe tries not to get ahead of himself as he gives this scenery one last glance. For now, he will battle the monsters that come with the end of your time together. He will dive into the night and keep fighting, until he sees a glimpse of a new beginning with you.

--

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed this! All likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

#childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe x you #childe x y/n #tartaglia x you #tartaglia x y/n #childe imagines #childe #tartaglia #genshin impact #genshin writing #genshin imagines #souglia.s

[souglias]

TWILIGHT - [Kaveh]

Both you and Kaveh work on your respective creative projects into the night. However, things don't go as smoothly as both of you wish.

Kaveh x gn!reader. Fluff.

Word count: 2.9k

c/w: alcohol consumption (on Kaveh's part), may be slightly self-indulgent

note: inspired by with my hand in yours (Kaveh's part) by @monocaelia , please go support her!!! Also, thank you sm to @dinoshimaaa for the beta mwah mwah

Dusk, Dawn, Twilight Masterlist

--

TWILIGHT in the wee hours speaks of a magical liminality that many miss. You are awake even before then, but you do not get to enjoy the serenity that such a quiet hour is supposed to bring. Instead, you are hunched over your easel with your final art assignment. It’s three in the morning, and the assignment is due at noon. You’ve barely slept the night before. Your third cup of coffee for the night is placed on the table beside you. An incomplete painting sits haphazardly on an easel by the table. Various paintbrushes sprawl all over the table. 

On the other side of the table, Kaveh pores over his architecture project, due for discussion with the client at the same hour as yours. His writing materials and tools are dumped atop one another on his side of the table. Instead of a cup of coffee on the table, he has a small cup of alcohol on the empty stool beside him. 

You tell him that it is counterproductive to drink alcohol for all-nighters because it makes him sleepy, especially since he’s a lightweight. But he protests that a small cup helps keep him loose. You don’t try to refute that, knowing that some classmates of yours do that.

Upbeat music plays in the background. Absent-mindedly, you tap your foot according to its beat. You wish you could turn the volume up higher. The higher the volume, the more sane it’ll keep you. However, that would lead to angry neighbours and you have no time to deal with such trouble.

As for Kaveh, he pays no mind to the music. His eyes are kept trained on his workspace, not even minding the beetle that crawls past his wine cup. His hands move as if they have minds of their own, moving his feathered pen gracefully. 

You’re kind of envious of him.

Kaveh knows what he’s doing. He knows what he wants. All the steps are already laid out in his head and they only need to be materialised on paper. You think he’s just a little careless, failing to set aside sufficient time to work on his project at a comfortable pace. 

With his eyebrows furrowed, he reaches out to his wine cup and takes a gulp. You’re pretty sure his cup isn’t gonna last the night and he’s going to head to the kitchen for a refill. It’s going to become multiple ‘small cups’. But seeing how focused he is, you don’t wish to break his concentration with any brief teasing.

The world around Kaveh is blurred out, his focus only zeroes in on the project in front of him. He stays this way for a long time until you let out an exasperated shout. Thank the Archons that both of you decided against working in Al Haitham’s home. 

His home would have been ideal with its proximity to the Akademiya. However, Al Haitham would go ballistic with the music. The last straw would probably be one of your (or possibly even Kaveh’s) eventual exasperated yells. 

Your head abruptly turns and you find Kaveh looking at you. “Oh shit, I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

Kaveh shakes his head and smiles instead. “Hit a roadblock? You can talk to me about it.”

“You sure?”

Kaveh nods. “I’d listen to you any day.”

Your eyes dart around your workspace, unsure where to start, as you turn your body towards him. After mulling over the question for a while, you start, “First off, my references don’t seem to be working very well? I took photographs for my references, but I only realised not long ago that the angles are all off. So I don’t know if this-” you pause to gesture at your painting, “is accurate.”

“Then, we have the issue of the paint. I can’t seem to get the colour I want! I spend so much time mixing the paint. If I could figure out the portion of colours I need to mix right off the bat, I could have saved so much time. Archons, I don’t know if I can finish.”

After throwing a glance at your painting, you start swearing. “Archons, what the fuck is this? What the fuck am I doing?”

Kaveh scrutinises your painting. Some parts of the canvas have been covered with paint while the parts unpainted only have draft lines. However, he still manages to discern two people near a window. One in the house with their back facing the viewer, the other on the other side of the window. Outside the window, the subject situated there has his body facing the one inside. However, Kaveh notices that his body is slightly turned away as if the subject is going away eventually. He guesses that a beautiful sea of stars expands out behind them, but there is still a large focus on the two people looking at each other. 

“Want to share what your assignment is about? Talking about it might help.”

You start fiddling with your paintbrush. 

“Our assignment was to create a painting and use it to convey a message to someone. It could be any message to anyone. Some wanted to make paintings to tell the upper echelons of the Akademiya about how insane the workload was. A few others wanted to advocate to just about everyone about our ever-warming climate…”

Your voice trails off and your eyes dart away from Kaveh. He raises an eyebrow at you and asks. “So, what’s the message you want to send and who are you sending it to?”

“It’s about the distance between… someone and I.”

Kaveh slightly leans towards you without realising. “Who might that be…?”

When you make eye contact with him again, you catch the intensity in his gaze and try not to flinch in your stool. The air becomes slightly charged and you hurriedly scoff to dissipate the tension, “Well, that’s not for you to know.”

You stick your tongue out at him and you turn away from him to face your canvas again. 

The urge to ask you who in the world this person consumes Kaveh. Who is it that has troubled you so much, that you have to make a painting for them to express yourself? 

He plays with the thought of this person being him. It feels slightly dangerous as if he’s walking a tightrope. Even this mere thought feels forbidden.

However, Kaveh cannot seem to disregard the little things that occurred between the two of you. The times both of you shared a drink with the same cup. The moments of accidental grazes of his skin on yours that cause him to flinch. The way you always listened to him talk about his designs, even if there were things you were not too familiar with. Kaveh cannot forget how his heart soars whenever you praise his design. 

On top of that, you always pick him up from the Tavern whenever he is too drunk to go home by himself. Without fail or complaint, you always come if Lambad sends someone looking for you.

Though, Kaveh would say that the two of you have been long-time good friends. There are some things that no longer matter when the two of you have been such good friends. 

Watching your back, he suppresses his desire to know. Kaveh isn’t ready to hear the name of the person you’ve been looking at. If he does, he thinks he’ll lose all the rights to relish the moments solely between the two of you. And what if he ruins the friendship between the two of you?

Kaveh takes a deep breath. He reaches out for his cup to take a sip of wine, but he realises that he’s empty. After making a quick refill, he dives back into his project. 

He’s not sure how much time has passed before he hears a sudden thud from your side. You’re standing up in front of your canvas with your stool toppled over behind you. Without turning to him, you say, “I’m going out.”

Kaveh’s grip on his pen loosens. He glances at your unfinished painting. In that one glance, he sees that you’ve added details, but he can tell it’s not done yet. Then, he checks the time. A little over 5.30 am. You’re already halfway out of the door. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll just be outside. I… need a breather.”

Kaveh watches you close the door without waiting for his reply. It is pretty normal for designers and artists like both of you to get overwhelmed. Space is a common need for creative minds. Perhaps that is all that you need, so he should let you be. However, Kaveh doesn’t feel at ease leaving you alone. It takes a few moments for Kaveh to navigate through his dilemma for him to decide to follow you.

When Kaveh finds you sitting on the porch, he heaves a silent sigh of relief. You’re gazing up at the navy blue sky. His eyes follow your gaze and he makes out a few blinking stars. 

Kaveh sits down beside you, not uttering a word. There’s only the sound of animals in the distant forest in the space between both of you until you break the silence.

“You know, I’ve never understood why people cry when they see art they admire so much. Maybe everyone has their reasons, but I think I finally found mine. Some of my classmates were sharing their mostly completed artworks. One of theirs made me want to cry.”

Kaveh keeps his eyes on you, noticing your lip quivering. You turn away from him when you continue speaking.

“It was so beautiful. So beautiful and I found myself fighting against tears. That artwork encapsulated everything I wanted to make. How? How does he make it so mesmerising? And why… Why can’t I do that? Why do I always have to come to despise my own work?”

Such feelings were not foreign to Kaveh. As a fellow creative, he knew you would feel this inevitable pain. Yet it makes his heart throb when he sees you doubt yourself.

“[name], look at me.”

You don’t move, keeping your body turned away from him. Oh, how you vex him.

Kaveh cups your cheeks with both his hands and he gently turns your head towards him. He watches a few tears roll down your cheeks and this sight claws at his chest.

“[name], I haven’t seen any of your friends’ works and I know you won’t believe me if I say your work is good. But from the bottom of my heart, the idea of making your painting a message for your… certain someone is wonderfully romantic.”

His voice becomes louder. His hands have started squishing your cheeks, yet his touch remains tender. “In the end, even if you feel like your painting hasn’t gone the way you wanted it to, I know your feelings will reach them. Sometimes my designs don’t turn out the ideal way I want them, but that’s okay. We’ll always nitpick on our work because we care about our craft. Your ideas are already amazing, so even if you hate the final product, take this as a step towards making better art.”

He inhales, not registering what he’s about to say. “And I like you! I don’t just like anyone out there, they should be artistic and creative! They should be brave to try new things too. So, you’re creative and artistic! And yes, you are brave to try new things too. You’ve never seriously dabbled in the arts before, and this is the first time the Akademiya is running classes for art. Enrolling into the Akademiya again for art is a huge leap of faith you’re taking!”

At this point, Kaveh’s ruby eyes are shining against the now violet sky. You see the stars you were looking at earlier in his eyes. “You’re not just anyone. You’re [name], the person I like! Do you understand?”

Kaveh watches as your face slowly turns red. You recall the countless moments he’s helped you to tide through your art assignments. The times the both of you spent together as a result of these art assignments and his client work. Of course, you caught feelings for him at some point, but you always thought you’d have to give him up someday and learn to cope on your own. The thought of having to go on without him haunts you like a ghost for countless days. Its presence looms heavily behind you on the long nights you have to finish your work alone. 

But with his slender and soft hands that hold your face, it’s as if he’s protectively encapsulating your weary soul within those two hands. The grasp of this presence on you loosens. Leaning into his touch, you mumble, “Kaveh, what will I do without you?”

When he notices you tear up again, the first thing he thinks is that he might have said something wrong. He tries to recall what he said, navigating through his hazy mind. When he realises that he’s confessed to you, all the lethargy leaves his body and more heat rushes into his face. He also becomes hyper-aware of the distance between your faces and his hands on your cheeks. 

Apologies come tumbling off his lips as he pulls himself back, “Oh no Archons, [name]. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to say that while you’re in a stressful-”

Kaveh notices the ink smudges he left on your cheek and more apologies come your way. “The smudges on your cheek! Oh shit, I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s alright,” a tender smile plays on your lips and a giggle escapes your lips, despite a tear that falls from your eyes. Your heart flutters thinking about your next words for the flustered architect. You take a deep breath to calm your hammering heart.

You confess, “The painting is meant as a message for you. I’m sorry I couldn’t give it to you properly after it was completed.”

Kaveh’s jaw drops, your words replaying in his mind. 

“Me…?”

A chuckle, music to his ears, escapes from your lips, “Yes, you. Renowned architect, Light of the Kshahrewar, Kaveh.”

“Holy Archons, I-”

Kaveh clasps his hand over his mouth and abruptly turns away from you. He recalls your painting in its most recent state earlier. There was one minute detail that didn’t escape him. The person in the house had been reaching onto the windowsill. 

You have been trying to reach him all along, and you didn’t know if he’d leave for a faraway glorious place.

Kaveh feels a lump in his throat, but he suppresses it and he faces you again. “It’s- I’m honoured to be the recipient of your message. I hope that you’ll be happy with me- No, I will make you happy, [name]. I won’t leave you.”

You reach out and brush a stray tear on his cheek away. The dried acrylic paint on your fingers does not stain his cheek, but you selfishly wished it did. It would have been your mark on him. Just like how he has left his mark on you.

An idea hits you, and you rub your finger against the spots where Kaveh’s fingertips touched your cheek earlier. You find some ink on your fingertips and you smear them on his cheek.

Smiling at your work, you say, “And I will make you happy too, my muse.” 

A soft smile appears on Kaveh’s lips and you wish you could capture him in this moment with the coming sunrise behind him. However, realising what time it may be, you straighten the feather in his hair and suggest, “Okay… I think we should finish our work and we will talk more after.”

Heading back into the house, both of you press on to finish up your respective tasks till this twilight passes and after. It’s not until after you’ve submitted your work that you feel fatigue kick in. 

You meet Kaveh near the location where he’s meeting his client. The meeting goes smoothly and quickly, it’s not long before you find his hands intertwined with yours. The sunlight feels unbearably harsh after the restless nights, so the two of you can’t wait to head into your cool homes to rest.

However, an immeasurable pull between the two of you makes the thought of going home without each other unbearable. 

“Say, could I crash at your place instead, since it’s nearer…? Would Al Haitham mind?”

Kaveh could care less about Al Haitham. Plus, he thinks the both of you will awaken before Al Haitham returns. Hooking his arm around yours, he proclaims, “Of course! Who cares about Al Haitham?” 

Both of you head to his house and settle on the sofa. With a heart filled with love, you drift off to sleep and you dream. You have not dreamt for a long time, but now, you dream of a confession that both morning and night have witnessed.

(When Al Haitham returns, he finds the both of you asleep on the sofa. Your head rests on Kaveh’s shoulder and his head leans on yours. His hands rest protectively atop yours. Al Haitham lets out an inaudible chuckle, finding relief in no longer needing to listen to Kaveh complain about his hopeless situation with you.)

--

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed this! All likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

#kaveh x reader #kaveh x you #kaveh x y/n #genshin impact #genshin kaveh #kaveh #kaveh imagines #genshin imagines #genshin writing #souglia.s

[souglias]

Sougo returns late after a long day of work on his birthday and he finds that you're still awake.

Sougo x f!reader. Fluff. Timeskip Sougo because takes place during the Forever Yorozuya movie.

Word count: (tbc)

c/w: Swearing, possibly ooc sougo because I'm being really experimental with this, they are married. Also since I usually write for gn!readers, I wanted bring up again that the reader here is female just in case!

--

The light that streams through the sliding paper doors at the end of the hallway signals to Sougo that you’re awake. That you've been waiting for him.

Hijikata started nagging Sougo about how he should have told you to head to sleep first, and not tire yourself out waiting for him. Sougo retorts that he did and you simply refused to listen.

Before Hijikata could continue, Sougo walks away to your shared room. Out of all the people, Hijikata being the person to lecture him pushed all his buttons.

Sougo wishes he lived in an entire house with you and no one else. But with the White Curse and the crackdown on the rebels, he makes himself content with what he can get.

When he slides the door open, he finds a tea table with a teapot and an almost empty teacup atop it. Beside them is a bowl of cut apples, the flesh of the fruit still a pale yellow. You're next to the table, with a hand in the clothing drawer--his clothing drawer to be exact-- and the other atop of a neatly folded yukata on the tatami.

At the sound of the door opening, you turn towards him and smile. "You're back."

"I told you I'd be back late. You should have gone to sleep."

He sits cross-legged next to you, and he tips the teapot. The amount of tea left is only enough to fill half of the small cup.

"I can't fall asleep without you."

Sougo scoffs, "That's a given with how tea works on you and how much you've drunk, idiot."

In retaliation, you shove a slice of apple into his mouth. The fragrance of the apple only barely tickles his nose. When he bites down on it, the juice fills his mouth, yet the blandness makes him flinch slightly.

"This tastes like fucking piss."

"Oh? I didn't know you knew what piss tastes like. Well, you just have to make do. People don't sell birthday cakes out there anymore. I only found some fruits, which aren't easy to get now, as you know."

He narrows his eyes at you and props one knee up, resting an arm above it.

"You're pretty dumb for someone who's my wife."

You raise an eyebrow at him, prompting him to continue. "Save the money for something else. Get better ingredients and cook some good food for us. I can continue to make the rest jealous and make them beg me to ask you to cook for them too."

It's your turn to scoff, but your frown quickly turns into an amused smile instead.

You place the yukata you took out earlier and a yukata obi in his lap. Shifting yourself behind him, you undo his ponytail and start running your fingers through his hair.

Sougo's scalp tingles when your fingertips brush against his head as you untangle his hair. Fatigue slowly kicks in as he sits in silence. If he closes his eyes now, it would be easy to pretend that the calamity that has befallen Edo has never happened.

He closes his eyes. His surroundings melt away, and only the image of your fingers in his hair drifts in and out of his mind.

After a while, you rest your hands on his shoulders tenderly. Sougo cracks one of his weary eyes open.

"Go wash up, I can still smell the blood on you. I don't sleep beside people who stink."

Sougo hisses at you, but he drags himself out of the room to wash up anyway. When he returns after his shower, he plops himself right in front of you and atop the futon that you've laid on the floor.

"You're a real brat, you know that right? Your sister really spoilt you."

"What can I say? I am an adorable little brother. And couldn't you do this little thing for the birthday boy? The apple slices tasted like shit, so that doesn't count as a present."

You complain and trash him for making you slave away for him, but you still reach for a comb and untangle his hair again for him. It's a mundane task. But the mundane things are what you hold the closest to your heart. When you watched Edo descend into the ruin it is now in, you watched fate rob things that were what people treasured the most.

Soon after, the two of you make yourselves comfortable in the futon in the familiar dark. Your head is tucked under his jaw and his arm is draped over your waist.

With his even breaths, you assume that he's already fallen asleep. Shifting yourself slightly to look at his face, you observe his weary features illuminated by the faint moonlight. You can only imagine how exhausting the day must have been.

You wanted him to share the burden with you. But he wouldn't, always saying that you weren't ready and told you to stay behind. Without thinking, you mumble, "When will you finally let me follow you and fight by your side?"

"Not so soon. You still suck at using a sword."

It takes you everything not to jump.

"I thought you were asleep. And we know that's not true, Saito said I got pretty good. I can use a bow and an arrow too."

Sougo drawls, "Stay here, where it's safe. Only shitheads barge into battles when they have a haven."

"I'm a shithead. You're a shithead."

Silence falls between the two of you, leading you to feel a tinge of disappointment again. He's either fallen asleep or he's dropping the conversation. Sighing, you shut your eyes for the night and give in to the lethargy.

"Fine."

Your eyes widened.

"Tomorrow. You, follow me. We see how."

His response causes your heart to soar. You kiss his jaw before burying your head in the crook of his neck. You're not even sure if he's fully drifted off to sleep, but it's the least of your concerns now.

"Good night and happy birthday, my shithead."

--

Happy belated birthday you fucking do-S character. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed this!

#okita sougo x reader #sougo x reader #okita sougo imagines #gintama x reader #gintama writing #okita sougo #gintama #souglia.s #grgDGRJHG Im not very happy with this honestly but I feel like the more I continue the more it's not really gonna get any better so #Putting this gintama fic out there rn #maybe the one for gin will be better if I do end up writing for his birthday mehopes #i have no idea what to title this if anyone has ideas u can feel free to send it my way

[souglias]

Ballroom Extravaganza [Al Haitham] [Childe]

"And I know I won’t stop searching For the moment when the world Stopped for you It stopped for you

Then the world came crashing down And it’s pulling you in now"

OR

When the world takes you away from them for or because of their selfish reasons

Al Haitham x gn!reader , Childe x gn!reader

c/w: blood, implied violence, mention of war, destruction

note: Inspired by DPR IAN's Ballroom Extravaganza!! A cookie for every time you catch all the references from the song hehe

~

[Al Haitham]

With the destruction done unto Teyvat, the world needed a reset. The Sustainer of Heavenly Principles deemed it so, and there is no one left who could fight against her. 

Al Haitham only wanted a normal, quiet life. Ideally, one with you. But time and time again, he’s always pulled into some sort of trouble. This one is something he cannot come out unscathed.

Battered, bruised and about to lose you. 

The Unknown God’s voice reverberates across the sky. “[name], you have five minutes on my clock.”

With that, silence ensues. The red clouds dyed by the crimson skies stop drifting, debris stops tumbling and the engulfing flames stop licking the barren trees. Survivors are frozen in their movements, unknowing of the moments that are passing between the two of you. 

Al Haitham stands rooted on the ground, giving you no choice but to walk towards him. You look up at his face to find a blank stare. You purse your lips, and your fingers hover over the gold adornments on his hand and up his arms. When you rest your hand on his cheek, he places his hand atop yours.

His cold gaze breaks and it softens. Al Haitham studies your face, afraid to forget anything about you.

You wished The Sustainer of Heavenly Principles didn’t find the need to stop the time of Teyvat. The silence that envelops the two of you is everything but comfortable. The people frozen around you unsettles you. There is pain, grief and frustration written all over their bloodied faces. 

You tear your gaze away from them and meet Al Haitham’s eyes. At that moment, a question surfaces in Al Haitham’s mind. 

It is an irrational question. He knows there is no other way to restore order and balance. Rather, restoring the delicate balance of an entire world is beyond him. The world has a way of operating. That’s how it’s always been and hence, has to return to that state.

He asks anyway, seemingly in the same way he always does when tackling an academic problem, “Don’t you think there’s another way?”

Yet, if the winds were still howling and carrying the cries of people, they would have drowned his question. Perhaps it is a good thing The Unknown God stopped time.

You chuckle, “Well, you’re the smarter one between the two of us. Do you?”

That question leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Both of you are equally smart and Al Haitham knows that. He’s smarter in some areas, you’re smarter in the rest. If he doesn’t have an answer in this area, you should. 

If you don’t, then perhaps there is no answer at all. 

You run your thumb along his fingers. It’s a gesture of yours that often soothes him, but now it makes the pit of his stomach churn. Al Haitham can only put his arms around you for a tight embrace. 

Both of you don't exchange any words for what feels like a long while, even though both of you know the wise choice was to speak. However, the encroaching end of your time together starts to weigh heavily on his shoulder. It inclines him to ask another question.

“Why does it have to be you? Can’t it be anyone else?”

You pull away from him a little, his arms remaining tense around you.

“There’s something I haven’t told you.”

You toss the thought around in your head, mulling over the most succinct way to reveal it to him. He always liked things to the point.

“I’m… kind of some divinity. Honestly, having lived with humans for so long, I don’t really understand it. But I sensed something in myself and Lesser Lord Kusanali confirmed it.”

The thought that there must be another way surfaces in his mind. If you are someone with some sort of divinity, then perhaps you could turn the tides. 

“Jeez, that came out incoherent. I just wanted to say that maybe… that’s why it’s me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this earlier.”

Following that, you press a kiss on his cheek. 

Al Haitham scraps the idea of asking for another way. He is well aware that you would have already done something if you could. Or maybe, it is precisely because you are someone of divine status that rendered you unable to yield to the commands of Celestia.

Cupping your cheek, Al Haitham leans in. But before his lips touch yours, a crimson block rises from the ground below you. In his shock, his grip on you loosens and he hops backward. The block gradually swallows you. When Al Haitham finally gains his footing, his gaze swings up to you. He sees your lips curl up to a sad smile. 

Your voice cracks. “That look of shock doesn’t suit you.”

You say something else that he can’t hear before the box engulfs you fully. When he can no longer see you, the whole red box sinks into the ground in a second. Then, all he sees is white. 

When the sickening white fades away, Al Haitham finds himself alone in his house. He is alone with his anger of letting you go and alone with the thought that others now live in relief, without knowing the sacrifice for it. 

Or perhaps you’ll be known for your sacrifice, but you’ll be reduced to a person in an emotionless history book. One that cannot describe how much of a deal you are to him.

~

[Childe]

The coming end of the war rumbles deep in your bones. With the arrival of the Traveller with his fully awakened powers, the seven archons and their aids are very much assured a victory. 

You drag yourself into the long-abandoned Zapolyarny Palace. The grand staircase gives you a lifeless welcome, with debris lying all over it. It takes you great effort to get to the staircase only steps away from the entrance. 

Resting against the first step, you finally assess the damage that you’ve taken. Blood drips through your blood-soaked top and it stains the red velvet carpet below you. With all that exertion earlier, your head spins and you shut your eyes. 

“[name]!”

For a split second, the familiar voice roots you in your vertigo. You open your eyes to see Childe running towards you. 

“We won! Celestia surrendered!”

Childe is smiling from ear to ear, but it’s not long before his expression morphs into one of fear. You notice how wide his eyes are when he drops beside you. His hands fumble around, unsure, before he stands up.

“I’ll get help for you. Stay there.”

With great effort, you stretch out and catch a little of his coat that fanned out when he turned around. 

“Stay… with me.”

“But-”

“I can’t-” you cough a little before continuing, “-be saved… You know that.”

Childe’s jaw tightens and you can see fear swimming in his ocean-blue eyes. The sight before you feels abnormal to you, you don’t ever recall seeing Childe afraid. 

“I’m sure… someone could help you. Maybe someone from Celestia could help! They’ve surrendered and I’m sure they won’t refuse us-”

“Childe, please.”

Upon hearing the crack of your voice, Childe’s resolve falls apart. With a tender touch uncharacteristic of a bloody warrior, he shifts you onto his lap and his hands cradle your head.

Childe asks you, “Why did you agree to become the Vessel and merge your life force with the system of this dumb building?”

Being the Palace Vessel was supposed to be an honour. In exchange for sharing your life force with Zapolyarny Palace to maintain its structure and blessings for the people in it, you get to wield cryo magic. 

However, if you fall, it will fall. Naturally, the reverse applies. Though, you tossed the notion of this far to the back of your head. This has never happened in the history of Snezhnaya after all. Plus, you were thrilled at being able to wield magic. This was unfathomable for many who didn't receive a Vision.

But the worst happens in your lifetime anyway.

You laugh with whatever energy you have left, teasing him with weak breaths, “Those are some treacherous words. Since when did the Tsaritsa’s vanguard start insulting the sacred castle?”

“The Tsaritsa wouldn’t care at this point.”

His furrowed eyebrows and lack of emotion in his tone make your facade wither away. The bits of concrete falling reminds you of your lack of time.

“It was prophesied that I was to be the next… Besides, someone had to do it to sustain the magic that keeps it up. The Palace wouldn’t be warm with never ceasing flames in fireplaces without the Vessel.”

“And all you get is some magic you get to cast? Thanks to this bull prophecy, you’re dying because these scraps of junk got destroyed!”

Childe’s raised voice reverberates in the entrance hall and you feel a twist in your chest. Your sight has considerably deteriorated, but you can still feel his fiery gaze on you. 

You tear your eyes from him and look into the distant blurry landscape through the door. At that moment, you make out that the blizzard has stopped.

The war truly has ended. 

However, the noise of the falling stones becomes more urgent. The feeble castle is barely holding itself together and you can’t help but feel that it’s doing so for you.

Still fixing your gaze on the outside, you say, “Do you see the stars on the ceiling?”

He glances up then nods.

“They say that the Zapolyarny Palace goes through slight changes whenever a new Vessel takes over.”

As you continue to speak, he leans closer to you. 

“When it was my turn, they said the ceiling of the grand entrance became littered with stars. I’m glad I made such a pretty change.”

A bitter smile forms on your lips and Childe feels a lump in his throat. 

The ground below the both of you starts to quake. Someone calls Childe out from behind, but he doesn’t heed them. Instead, he places a gentle kiss on your lips. A tear falls from his eyes and it drips onto your cheeks.

Your trembling hand hovers below his chin. “You need to go.”

Before Childe can react, someone pulls Childe backwards from behind. Childe tussles with the grip of the person behind him. While he does, he notices gold dragon scales on this person. 

Resignation fills his entire body and he stops thrashing. He knows he cannot win against Zhongli in his archon state. 

When Zhongli releases him, Childe falls to the ground as he watches the once-grand castle collapse. He can only clench his fist and create claw marks in the snow while he sees the fall with his eyes. Even the ghost of touch on his chin gradually fades away. 

It’s only a matter of minutes before the majestic castle is reduced to a ruin, yet it’s a tragedy lasting aeons to Childe. When the debris stops tumbling around and bricks stop falling over each other, Zapolyarny Palace doesn’t even look like a shadow of its former self.

Childe attempts to stand. Perhaps if he can find your body, a healer could put you back together again. However, he halts in his steps when the ruins start to gradually disintegrate into glowing particles. They rise into the sky, against the fall of the snow. 

And he knows you’re gone. He no longer gives a damn and cries out your name.

In the future, Childe will walk on the grounds of what will be the new Zapolyarny Palace without you. There will likely no longer be a need for a Vessel. The Tsaritsa will get the help of the freed Khaenrians to build the palace with their technology instead. 

People will look up at the clear blue skies and admire the snowflakes that descend. However, Childe cannot bear the thought of looking at a ceiling without stars. He will look upon any cracks that run amok on the polished floor instead, and they will remind him of the castle you once kept up. Childe will fall through the cracks, into the past with you he could never return to.

~

Thank you for all the likes and reblogs &lt;3

#childe x reader #al haitham x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe imagines #al haitham imagines #childe #al haitham #genshin impact #genshin impact writing #genshin writing #genshin imagines #souglia.s #oh so sher wrote !! #as we can see I love writing unnecessarily dramatic and flowery things

[souglias]

hi sherry :))

you’re doing the most for soon-to-be birthday boy and i love it! all the stages of your event are so cool and thought out so i’m excited to see all of it put together on jax’s b-day.

as for your request event, i’m a sucker for hanahaki so…

i’d love to see hanahaki au with some hurt/comfort ! (and i would totally say no comfort, but i’ll let him be happy for 1 day)

sending big hugs rn and wishing you a great day/night!! 🫶🫶

Blue Roses [Childe]

c/w: hanahaki

Note: HI LEE! I'm so sorry that I took a while to get to this, I've been wrestling with this request for a while :">. It's my first time writing hanahaki and I hope that you like this! Thank you for waiting and for participating in my event. I hope you've been doing well

“Who did this to you?”

The blue of his eyes scalds more than any flame you’ve known. The sheer heat makes you look away.

And how ironic, given that all you wanted was to look at his eyes without it being a privilege. 

There was only once when you managed to admire his eyes without him catching you for an extended period. Despite the brilliant azure sky behind him, it did not dull the richness of the blue eyes. 

Having caught you staring at him, he had nudged your arm and asked, “What is it? Oh~, are you in love with me?”

You had averted your gaze before you scoffed, “How could I love someone who tried to destroy my nation?”

“You wound me, [name].” 

Even though you are staring at the sand instead, you can see him having a hand on his chest with a pout in your mind’s eye.

His eyes have the same blue as the roses you watch yourself cough up. How beautiful, you want to say. Even as the petals had fallen off your lips, they twirl elegantly in their descent. 

You keep your eyes on your fingers as they tussle with each other. You couldn’t tell him.

(Because then, what would that mean for him? Would that put him in a spot? Would that make him obliged to love you?)

“[name], look at me.”

Any despearation he tries to hide leaks into his voice. From the side of your eye, you see his hands ball the ends of the blanket. 

The ward in Bubu Pharmacy becomes a little too small for both you and Childe.

Your eyes slowly run up his body. Abdomen, chest, neck, chin, lips, nose. Finally, your gaze reaches his eyes. Childe searches for an answer to his question in your eyes.

(You do not know how to tell him that he can find the answer in his instead.)

“I promise, I’m not going to harm them. I… just want to talk to them.”

“What are you going to say?”

He doesn't say anything for a few moments.

“Is it Mr Zhongli?”

“What? No! And I asked-”

“Is it the traveller?”

Your fingers tense up at their name, images of them spending time with Childe flashing in your mind. 

That day, when Childe had a meal with the traveller at 3rd Round Knockout, with a gleeful wide smile on his face. A smile you wish he only reserved for you.

The night you saw Childe leaning on a lamp post. His arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed, he was speaking to the traveller. That night, the distance between the two of you felt like one you couldn’t cross. 

And that very same night, you plucked the petals of a flower that first emerged from your mouth. He loves you. He loves you not.

It ended with “He loves me not.”

You snap out of your trance when you hear the chair topple to the ground. Childe stomps towards the door. 

In a panic, you call his name and reach out to him. You stumble off your bed, breaking into a run to the corridor. A lump forms in your throat. A knife twists in your chest. Tears start to fill your vision. Petals start to fill your mouth.

You crash to the ground and hear footsteps run towards you.

Through your blurry vision, you only see two colours on the ground. Red and blue side by side, just like the blood that accentuates the stormy ocean contained in his irises.

Your hands manage to find their way to the end of his jacket and you clutch it. 

You can’t hear what Childe is saying. But his words scream pain that wrenches your heart. And you know he is pleading, but you don’t know why he’s pleading (or maybe you do).

“You.” You say in between coughs.

“What?”

“I love-”

You hammer at your chest to get out the flower stuck in your windpipe. At the same time, you force out the word you’ve kept lodged in your throat too.

“You.”

Suddenly, a pair of arms engulf you and your head is tucked in the crook of someone’s neck.

“I love you, [name].”

Even though it still feels like a flower is lodged in your throat, you feel your congested lungs clear. You have to remind yourself how to do it properly. Eyes continuing to overflow with tears, you bury your head in his neck and weep. 

Childe pats your back and you stay there for a long while. Soon, he pulls away from you. You think you see a sky with clouds heavy with tears.

“You’re not lying to me, are you, Childe?”

“No. Why would I?” 

He helps you onto his back and he piggybacks you back to the hospital room. 

(What you did not know was Childe seeing you when he was at 3rd Round Knockout. He had gotten up from his seat to look for you, but lost you at the wharf. 

What you did not know was that Childe was talking about you, asking the traveller if they knew why you were avoiding him.)

“Why did you hide this from me?”

“I thought you liked the traveller.”

“What?” 

Childe looks at you as if you’ve lost your mind. His voice trails off as he says, “I thought you liked traveller…” 

“What the hell? You seem pretty chummy with them to me. And since when was I that close with them?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m chummier with you.”

“You don’t throw your arm around me and laugh maniacally.”

“I- I can’t do that.”

You notice the tips of his ears turning pinkish. When he sets you down on your bed, he brushes away your tears, his palm pressed against your cheek. You see his eyes bright and clear.

Without realising, you say with a smile curling on your lips. “The blue roses lied to me.” 

#childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe x y/n #childe x you #tartaglia x y/n #tartaglia x you #childe #tartaglia #genshin childe #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin writing #souglia.s #I confess I've written this at least 2 times and this is the best outcome I can come up with :>

[souglias]

You, Who Are Miles Away [ONE] - Al Haitham

c/w: none

note: So today is Al Haitham's birthday and it hit me that perhaps I should post the chapter of a series that I have scrapped. I put in quite a lot of effort into this chapter a long while ago and I only realised the series might not work out after I finished writing this. I haven't posted in a long while so I thought no harm if I just share this, even if the series may not continue or even if there's not much going on in the story right now. To whoever that this story may interest, I hope you like it. Happy birthday, Al Haitham

Thank you for all the likes and reblogs!

-

The scholar from the Akademiya always sits at the same table, not far from the counter. Yet he feels like someone from light years away. He could very well be, given that he always buries his pretty face in a book. Occasionally, he brings a stack of papers to handle, but that’s usually it. All he ever utters is his order and there would be no other word from him.

A fairly handsome man. His grey-hair with white highlights is somewhat well-kept, even though his fringe falls into his eyes. Muscles are well-defined through his tight arm sleeve, shoulder peeking out at the top of the sleeve. Additionally, his top flaunts his abs quite well too. He is the whole package of an attractive man.

You would have fallen head over heels for him. If only he kept his mouth shut. Or more accurately, said a little more to show some respect to you. 

Chatting with regulars during your shift at Puspa Cafe is common for you. You listen to other merchants talk about their business or days. Travellers from abroad tell you about their journey so far. Scholars from the various Darshans whine about their lack of funding or lament about their rejected papers. Sometimes, they’d tell you about what’s going on in the Akademiya itself. 

Given that said gray-haired scholar frequents the cafe often, you try to strike a conversation with him. But it doesn’t go smoothly as you expect. Because all he says is his order. You were fine with being uninterested in talking, but his manners tick you off. 

You arrive at his table, pencil poised over your notepad. “Hello, the usual today? Would you happen to want to try something else?”

“The usual.” He says, without taking his eyes off his book that he just opened. You scribble his order in a hurry on your notepad.

You head to the counter to relay his order to Enteka, ready to criticise this particular scholar with an irritating arrogant air. You toss your notepad on the counter and scoff, “Seriously? Would it kill him to just look at him once when he’s talking to me? Is his book that interesting? Are Akademiya scholars these days becoming like that, looking down on common folk?”

Enteka only laughs as she settles the cup and saucer on the counter. “Cut him some slack, maybe he’s busy.”

“It just takes one second to look up. Besides, he’s going to study his sanity away like that. Is this how scholars go crazy these days?”

It makes you slightly relieved you dropped out years ago.

You take his drink to him, forcing a smile on your face. 

“Here is your drink.”

Patrons not answering to you as you place their drink on the table is common. Except that the air of arrogance exuberating from this man makes your blood boil. 

You place the cup on the table with a thud and it rattles. Some coffee brims out from the mouth of the cup, trickling down its side into the saucer. The scholar looks up from his book and you panic slightly, mumbling an apology. His eyes dart to the hardback resting on the table and he finally closes his book with a thud.

“The cover is stained.”

The first time he looks into your eyes, there is accusation. It makes you want to shift your eyes away instead. 

You know there’s nothing much you could do. But you try to salvage the situation, dabbing tissues on the semi dry stains. He eyes your hands for a few passing moments before he sighs.

“Forget it.” He says as he waves you off. A whirl of emotions brew in you. A book with stains upset you, and you can’t help but feel you owe him. Yet your annoyance intensifies with the dismissing tone that he uses as if he’s your superior. 

You want to say something, anything, so you wouldn’t look bad. Only more apologies come up in your mind as options, but in the heat of the moment, you don’t feel too willing to apologise. In the end, no words fall out of your mouth and you leave with gritted teeth. Other customers start to flow into the cafe, so you make yourself busy.

The scholar leaves without a word when he’s done with his drink. When Enteka closes the store for the night, you still can’t shake off the incident. It plagues you even till the moment you sprawl yourself out on your bed.

The image of a few stains of coffee on the hardback cover makes your heart wrench slightly. Your mind drifts to the scenario of coffee stains on your book and you find it unbearable.

You think about offering him something as an apology, though you weren’t sure what else you had rather than more words of apology. 

Perhaps something Akademiya-related. The first thing that comes to your mind are the papers that you’ve written. You shoot the idea down immediately. You did not want him, or anyone in fact, knowing about how you dropped out. 

There were also books, though you did not have that many with the tight hold the Akademiya has on knowledge. However, one specific book comes to mind. You can see it in the corner of your eye on the tiny shelf between the head of your bed and your desk. 

The Distant Sun, Moon and Stars. 

A traveller from Fontaine had left it behind and never came back from it. Initially, you only opened the book with the intention to skim it. However, it soon became a book dear to you that you’ve spent your nights poring over. 

It made you feel like you were a student of the Rtawahist again. 

You stretch over to your bookshelf from your bed and pull the book out. Raising it above you, you stare at the cover.

But… Perhaps you’ve long outgrown this book. You know what every page of this book holds and you no longer think it can give you the element of joy and surprise. 

You flip through the pages and realise that you’ve made more notes in it than you thought. You let out a sigh. Would it be weird to offer a used book to anyone at all? And you have no information about his Darshan, would he even be interested in this? 

You fidget with the book, letting your thoughts continue to run and ruminate on your doubts.

You end up throwing your hands up in defeat. The decision is to give him the book if he does show up the following day. Maybe he wouldn’t show up and all these thoughts would be for nothing. Heck, maybe he wouldn’t patronise the cafe ever again.

The scholar shows up the next day at the cafe. You’re not sure if you should be overjoyed or upset. 

You walk up to him to take his order again. Your heart hammers in your ears as you do so. He looks one glance at you and says, “The usual.”

As Enteka makes his drink, you retrieve the book. You set his drink down on the table with your book. 

“Hey, I’m sorry about the book yesterday. I know this isn’t much but I dislike the idea of stained books, regardless of whether it’s yours or from the Akademiya. So I hope you will accept this as part of my apology. It is slightly old and largely used, but I hope the wealth of information would be useful to you… or even, anyone you may know.”

He lowers the book his face was buried in and looks at you. You try your best not to tear your eyes away from his. On another note, you think that you’ve gotten a good look at his face for once. His amber-ringed eyes are pretty.

The scholar shifts his eyes down to the book, his hair falling into his eyes in the process. He scrutinises the book, asking, “Where did you get this?”

You piece together a lie.

“A patron from Fontaine had left it behind. It’s been several years but he has not come back to retrieve it.”

He turns his attention back to the book and you notice that he briefly stops at the pages where you’ve annotated pencil notes. His turquoise eyes flicker back to you again as he asks, “Did you write these?”

The content is niche and fairly complicated, if one didn’t attend the Akademiya, it was unlikely for one to understand without putting in tremendous effort. You build a little on your lie.

“No. They were already there when I picked it up.”

His eyes flicker away for a moment before he replies, “I see.”

He gives you brief thanks and resumes reading his book. Unsure of what else to do or say, you also return back to the counter.

Enteka asks, “What’s going on?”

“I gave him one of my books. As an apology for spilling some coffee on his yesterday.”

“Oh. [name], I’m pretty sure you didn’t have to do that. But since you’ve already done so, maybe we could see how things unfold.”

“Huh?”

“Some customers have come in.” Enteka doesn’t acknowledge your puzzled look and makes herself busy.

Through the day, you keep your eyes trained on your notebook and the customers in front of you. However, your mind remains conscious of the scholar’s position in the cafe.

When he finally leaves without a word, your shoulderss loosen and you heave a sigh of relief. You have no idea whether the book was going to be shelved in the Akademiya or into his own collection, but he seems appeased. 

A few days later, the gray-haired scholar comes by again. When he takes his seat, he calls for you. A little taken aback, you collect yourself before you head to his table.

He hands you your book. “This was an interesting book, thank you.”

No words come up in your mind and you can only get yourself to take the book.

He asks, “Do you fancy astronomy and astrology?”

“J-Just a little interest in them.”

“You may like this book then.” He puts down his own book and picks up the book on top of the small pile. Your fingers brush his when he hands the book to you. It takes your entire being to will yourself not to react. He continues, “It shouldn’t be too difficult for novices. Otherwise, you can choose to just admire the pictures.”

You are speechless before you breathe out a thanks. His words replay in your mind, and you wonder at the back of your mind if he has passively slighted you. A pint of annoyance rises in your chest, but you’re too overcome by his behaviour to really notice.

“Do I… When is the due date?”

“There’s no due date. This is from my own collection. You can return it to me when you’re done.”

You only manage to mumble a thanks before you carefully pack the book into your bag. As you pull your hand away from your bag, you can’t help but feel the ghost of his touch lingering on your fingertips.

The day passes by like a dream. You continue to take orders and do your job in the cafe, but pretty much on auto-pilot mode. The sequence of events loops in your mind, as if it cannot fathom such a thing happened.

When you catch him leaving, you manage to snap out of your trance. You rush up to him to stop him. Face feeling slightly warm, you ask, “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“Al Haitham.”

Al-Haitham. Your mind echoes his name.

“You?” 

When he asks that, you realise you may have been out of it for quite a while.

“I’m [name].”

#al haitham x reader #al haitham x you #genshin al haitham x reader #al haitham imagines #genshin imagines #genshin writing #genshin al haitham #genshin impact #al haitham #souglia.s

[souglias]

Pinwheel [Albedo]

c/w: none

Note: To my dearest @dinoshimaaa <3 Please check your discord for a message hehe. Inspired by SEVENTEEN's Pinwheel. Also I'll add the banner tomorrow, I don't have it on my current computer :">

“I have an experiment to continue tomorrow, I’m sorry I won’t be there.”

Albedo remembers the day he didn’t send you off.

He had been pouring vials and vials of chemicals instead. But while doing so, the image of you walking away from the gate of Mondstadt had been at the forefront of his mind.

Had you left with light steps? Or had you dragged your feet a little, sole scraping the gravel of the bridge? He had guessed you might have looked back thrice at the people sending you off, the people you love.

And he wondered if you had thought of him as you had passed Dragonspine on the way to the first stop of your adventure, Liyue.

Perhaps you would stop by Dragonspine.

(But of course, you hadn’t. The two of you were just friends.)

That day, Albedo had failed an experiment that he knew the steps to. He easily began again and got the result before night had fallen.

That night, a chilly gale howls outside. A lonely dragon whimpers in his heart. A colourful pinwheel (that you left him) spinning with zest at the entrance.

The pinwheel only spins and trembles on its pivot. It turns as Albedo goes around his laboratory, from station to station. Its light rattling every night had lulled him to sleep.

But every time it enters his view, his mind goes back to you and the saccharine sweet memories that make his heart soar. His eyes glance at the space beside the pinwheel, wondering if you’d show up right beside it.

On the first year of your birthday after you left for your journey, he wasn’t sure if you would be returning to Mondstadt. His hands fiddle with empty apparatuses as his mind plays with the thought of heading to Mondstadt to see if you had made a brief return.

He cleared his workbench and slipped into his coat. Yet halfway down the mountain, he halts in his step.

Even if you did return, he doubted that you wanted to see him. The way your smile had dropped slightly when he had said he couldn’t send you off resurfaces in his mind. It pricked like a needle at his heart. The tinge of resignation in your voice still rang crisp in his ear.

Albedo soon found himself back at square one.

Sucrose dropped by his laboratory that day and she mentioned you.

“[name] asked about you. They stopped by earlier today, but you weren’t around.”

Albedo does not ask further, only responding with an “Is that so?” after a few beats.

Albedo finds himself pacing around his laboratory when night falls.

To dispel his restlessness, Albedo decided to start on something despite only candlelight illuminating his workspace. He pins up the recipe on the board hanging above his workbench.

Nigredo is the first step. Albedo creates the base ingredients from the raw materials in his laboratory. His hands hovered around, uncertain of what they should be doing. The end products did not appear like the original ingredients, but he believed that they could serve the purposes of the original.

Albedo is the step in which change begins. All the ingredients were tossed in and mixed in their respective steps. They came to look like dough and there was a tug at the side of his lips.

Rubedo is the refining of feeling. Albedo followed the steps without much effort, mind full of you as he did so.

Citrinas is the final stage of the alchemical transmutation process. Its meaning and true value have revealed themselves. He examined the cake made from alchemy as it wobbled, barely holding itself together.

A few sun rays peek into the laboratory and it hits him that he had spent the whole night on this. And through the night, the pinwheel accompanied him with its gentle rattling. With a last look at his final product, he felt the knot in his heart untangle itself.

He left for some rest after writing a note to try again this year. Maybe you would love to try a cake made from alchemy.

And he does make it again.

Even though he is unsure whether you would come to Dragonspine again, he prepares the cake in his laboratory on your birthday. He considers heading to Mondstadt City, but he doesn’t want to risk missing you like last year.

(He decides to trust that you would come round back to him.)

With the sheer cold of Dragonspine, he doesn’t worry about the freshness of the cake and leaves it aside for now.

Albedo begins his experiments while waiting for you. But even as the sky darkens, only leaves rustle at the entrance of his laboratory. A soft sigh escapes his lips and he prepares to head out to collect ingredients for dinner.

It seems like you aren’t coming this year.

He stands up, heading to the cake to throw it out.

“This pinwheel looks a little tattered, why are you still keeping it?”

Your name effortlessly tips off his lips as he drops his coat back onto the coat hanger. “[name].”

A small smile adorns your face and you raise a hand.

“Hey, Albedo.”

Albedo stops his feet from running towards you and his arms from wrapping themselves around you.

“You’re here.”

“No shit sherlock. Your genius brain starting to malfunction since the last time I saw you?”

Albedo shakes his head and tries to shake off the smile forming on his lips at the same time.

“Woah, what’s this?”

You marvel at the large cake (probably meant for at least 10 people).

“It’s for you. Happy birthday, [name].”

Your eyes widen at him, darting back and forth between him and the cake. Your lips spread into a wide grin, and your face glows despite the only light being the flickering oil lamps around the laboratory.

Albedo’s breath gets caught in his throat. You ask if you may help yourself and he simply nods.

He watches you scurry around the laboratory for a knife and cuts the cake in anticipation like a little child with a new toy.

When he collects himself, he asks, “May I sketch you? The capacity of our brain is limited, so we are bound to forget things… And this is one thing I don’t want to forget.”

You tease him as you stuff your mouth full of the cake, “Is that a confession, Albedo?”

His heart thrums in his ear. His response feels stuck in his throat, but he gathers whatever remaining courage he has to answer you.

“Perhaps it is.”

(No matter how far, he knows you will come back to him. As long as he’s waiting, you would come round and round back to him.)

All likes and reblogs are appreciated!

#albedo x reader #albedo x y/n #albedo x you #albedo #genshin albedo #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin writing #souglia.s #man this feels kind of overwhelming but this is the best I can do at the current moment :"> I'm sorry #*underwhelming

[souglias]

I WANT YOUR LOVE AND YOUR LOVER'S REVENGE [GINTOKI]

c/w: none

note: This can be read as an additional part to THE GHOST OF YOU (on my masterlist) or as a standalone! Title from Bad Romance by Lady Gaga

All likes and reblogs are appreciated!

Gintoki catches you gazing into the canopy of the night again when he cracks one eye open. You have your back facing him, but he knows that your eyes are searching. They run all over the pitch black starless sea overhead. You don’t know what you’re searching for as you confessed one night. But he knows.

And he won’t tell you.

He sits up from the sofa. Hearing the sound of clothes wrinkling, you jerk your head back to him.

“Gin, I’m sorry, did I disturb you?”

He cannot shake how differently you say his name now compared to the past. Anyone would have argued “Gin” was “Gin”. But his ears hear some slight disparities. His chest throbs, even more, when he thinks that he could just be hearing things.

“No. I just wanted to piss but got freaked out by a certain someone standing near my sofa like a ghost. You’re going to shorten my already measly lifespan like that.”

You chuckle, attempting to give an apology. “Sorry, I can barely see the sky from your room.”

“Are you saying you’d rather sleep on the sofa? I want my futon back too.”

“I don’t mind.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms behind his head and leaning back down on the sofa.

You turn your head back to the sky, fixing your gaze on the sky with your arms leaning on the windowsill.

“How long more are you going to search the boring sky and leave empty-handed?”

You stay silent for an answer, searching yet again. But this time in your head for an answer.

“I don’t know. My body just screams that I’ve forgotten something important.”

The chilly air that gushes in tickles his skin.

“Go to sleep, [name]. You’re going to get a cold. I don’t want a cold getting passed around in my house. You’re going to have to run errands for me if Shinpachi and Kagura can’t work.”

With that, he turns to his side and tucks his face into the fold of his arm. He stares into the mute green fabric of the sofa before he closes his eyes. The window shuts with a light thud.

“Well, that is if I get paid. Good night, Gintoki.”

The endearment in your voice sends him a wave of warmth. He hates it.

Even with his eyes shut, he can see that (beautiful) cursed smile of yours that adorns your face. A prison he can never break free from. A sun he can only gaze from afar since Shoka Sonjuku.

You shuffle past him, ruffling his hair as you pass him. (You were the only one who complimented him for his hair. “I love it,” you said. He remembers mistakenly hearing “you” instead of “it”.)

He grabs your wrist in response. Your hand freezes and a while later, relaxes with your fingers tangled in his hair. He relishes the warmth of your touch on his scalp. A little uncertain about what to do next, he simply gives an off-handed comment. “How are you not feeling the damn cold? Your hands are ice cold.”

“Okay, okay, boss. I’ll make sure I tuck myself snuggly under the futon, ya?”

His grip around your wrist loosens and your hand slides out.

You have always looked in Takasugi’s direction. You still do, even if you don't know it. The bastard’s probably doing some crap in space and you were probably looking at him without knowing. Even if he wasn’t, you were probably looking at the same sky as he was.

When he hears your room door shut, Gintoki opens his eyes.

Though perhaps he could try. With no recollection of the past, maybe you could come to love him instead.

When they all meet again, you could have your arm hooked around his. Gintoki could give Takasugi a smug grin before he kills him. Takasugi would be so, so mad.

It would be another win against Takasugi too, even if it wasn’t a swordfight. After all, at the very end, he got the person both of them loved.

(And away from the prying eyes of others, he would kiss you like there was no tomorrow.)

Gintoki smirks briefly before he notices moonlight filtering through his paper window. He shuts his eyes tight.

(You are not Takasugi's lover today. And perhaps tomorrow too. The day after and after and after… And hopefully, never again.)

#gintoki x reader #sakata gintoki x reader #sakata gintoki imagines #sakata gintoki #gintama x reader #gintama writing #gintama #souglia.s #I swear lately my brain can only churn out self-indulgent fics #bc all my creative brain cells r going into my school work :"> #and I'm sorry I saw this line and instantly thought of gin AHHAHA

[souglias]

The Drive of Two [Childe]

c/w: swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of break-ups, arguments

note: I promise this is not angst. Thank you to @hurricanectar for beta-ing this for me!!! Your comments were very encouraging for me ily <3. For Childe's birthday event hosted by me here :)

Cross-posted on AO3

Thank you for all the likes and reblogs!

-19-

“Want me to drive you to the station?”

You give Childe a confused look as he says that. Childe takes the last sip of his juice before he elaborates.

“I drove here and I know the train station is a 15-minute walk away.”

You realise how kept up you’ve been with a part-time job that you didn’t know Childe has been taking lessons for a driving licence. It also finally clicks why he didn’t meet you at the train station to head to the eatery together this time. 

The thought of having a friend, your best friend, drive you for the first time makes your eyes visibly brighten up. 

You skip out of the eatery like an excited puppy into the hot afternoon sun (which you were hiding from as much as you could earlier).

Childe always knew the first person he wanted to take for a drive was you. But he didn’t anticipate his thrumming heart and the hurricane of uncertainty that spins in his chest. He can feel your excitement radiating onto his back.

Previously confident, he’s now worried his driving skills are still too rough for you.

Childe pulls out his keys with a sweaty hand. There is a twinkle in your eyes and he feels like he’s carrying the expectations of a child. Out of everyone, he knows best not to let down a child with expectations. 

He opens the door to the driver’s seat and plops down in his seat. You open the door of his new car gingerly and step in with great care. 

Shit, I should have opened the door for them. 

You squeeze into the seat that hasn’t been pulled back and you lean back into the seat with stiff shoulders. Noticing the Monoceros Caeli keychain hanging from the rearview mirror, you beam with pride. After all, the only keychain hanging in his car is the one you got for him.

The engine revs up when he turns the key. The whirring of the engine fades away as Childe turns on a song. 

You keep your eyes on the road in front of you, but you can’t help but feel his presence right beside you. From the side of your eye, you see how he pulls and pushes the gear lever with his slender fingers. 

(Were his fingers always that slender?) 

You only truly start paying attention to the road when you find the buildings a little too familiar.

“Childe? You sure this is the right way?”

His grip on the steering wheel tightens a little. “I’m pretty sure I keyed the station into the navigation system.”

“Um-”

He abruptly stops in the middle of the road, swearing under his breath. You chide him to get a move on and he manages to collect himself to shift into another lane.

He chuckles sheepishly, “My bad, I almost got onto the highway to go home.”

After turning a few more circles, he drops you off at a pavement, saying the station should be nearby and that it would probably be faster if you walked there on your own.

Childe opens his mouth just as you crack open the car door. 

“If you need me to drive you again next time, you can always ask me. I’ll drive you whenever I can.”

You smile and nod, shutting the door behind you.

(You walk around and end up finding yourself at another station instead. You facepalmed and thought maybe having him drive you again would not be cool.)

-20-

In your first year of university, you get into a relationship. With another guy. 

Childe remembers tossing his phone onto his bed after you hang up. It bounced on its edges and landed with a defeated thud, screen faced down on the mattress.

He should have known. You mentioned the dude on several occasions. A random text of “OOH Childe, he bought a drink for me!” An off-handed comment that he remembered that you like whales and showed you something related to whales. 

Did you really like the guy, though? Did the guy really like you? University only started half a year ago and you've already fallen for someone? 

Childe wanted to kick the air and whine about how unfair it was. He's been with you since the first year of high school. 

Maybe you’ll break up with him soon. 

On the night your said boyfriend dumps you on campus, Childe vividly remembers himself having harboured such thoughts. 

When he gets a call from you at 10 pm, with no emotion in your voice as you explain the situation, regret chews at his conscience. He tries to muffle the elation that expands within his chest as he runs to you from his student hostel room. When he sees you hugging your knees on a bench in the dark, regret turns to guilt and it starts taking big bites out of his heart like a monster at a feast.. 

Do you know what he’s really sure of? Childe wants to punch your ex.

When you see him, you let go of your knees and kick them into the air before you relax into the seat. You plaster on a smile as he approaches you and you wave as energetically as you can. He sits beside you and listens to you ramble about how your ex wasn’t happy that you continued to have such a close relationship with Childe.

You are not crying, but the light in your eyes has been snuffed out. Even the faint light from the dim lamp beside you does not reflect from them. 

“I’m so tired, Ajax.”

The sudden drop of your voice makes his heart sink. Without thinking, he takes your hand and tugs at it as he stands up. 

“Come, let’s go for a drive.”

Your hand in his, he brings you to his car parked in the deserted car park of the campus. Before you could pull the seat belt, he reaches over you and clicks the seat belt securely for you. A wave of comfort washes over you when you catch a whiff of mint from his hair. 

You watch as he queues a bunch of songs, your favourite songs. His fingers curl around the steering wheel like second nature and his hand finds the gear even without looking. He flicks a switch and the window beside you rolls down.

Gingerly, you stick your head out of the window. You look at Childe as if you’re looking for permission or affirmation. He glances at you with the side of his eye for a moment and wraps one hand around your wrist.

“Don’t worry about falling out. Just make sure not to get your head knocked off by something.” 

You relax your neck and shoulders, letting the wind caress your face as Childe speeds down the empty highway. You’re sure he’s gone past the speed limit, but you don’t even bother to chide him this time. 

It’s 2 am when you say you’re feeling better. You don’t stay at the university hostel, so he drives you home. When he stops outside your house, you pull the handle to find it locked. You shoot him a puzzled look. 

I should get a convertible next time, it’ll probably help them better whenever they’re feeling down. He thinks as he looks at you, but not noticing the confusion on your face.

“Ajax?”

It pulls him out of his thoughts and he hastily unlocks the door for you. “Text me if you need anything. Rest well tonight.”

“Thank you.”

You smile at him and it is the first time that night it does not look forced.

-23-

You rub your palms against each other, all the songs playing in the car going over your head.

“You’re going to be fine, [name].”

You inhale and exhale in an attempt to untangle the bundle of nerves that you are. The pair of sunglasses that sits on the bridge of your nose is gradually sliding off as you fidget in your seat. 

The car halts at a traffic light, and he pushes the sunglasses up your nose. You look at him, who’s wearing the exact same pair of sunglasses. 

He sandwiches your face in between his palms. “You’ve been practising with me for several days and nights! You’re well-prepared, [name]. The only person you’d lose the job to is me if I applied for it.”

You scoff, the tension in your body dispelling. But you don’t think he was wrong. After all, he snagged a high-ranking position directly under the Tsarista. As you get down the car, he pumps his fist. “Dinner my treat later, sweetheart.”

You stumble over your thanks and retort, “Who’s your sweetheart?”

That night after dinner, he folds the roof of his convertible back for the first time. The stars splay out across the vast night sky and they wink at the both of you. You are sure he has gone over the speed limit, but you don’t chide him this time. 

Euphoria rises up your chest like a helium balloon and you yell into the wind barrelling into your face, “Ajax, I love you!”

He almost skids at a turn. He stumbles over his words as he shoots a glance over to you. “What?”

“Nothing! Just something to get back at you for earlier!”

“Don’t scare me like that, [name].”

Not that I’d mind it that way.

A few nights later when you receive an email informing of the successful application for your job, the two of you go for another drive. When he picks you up, he gives you a bone-crushing hug and your laughs echo into the canopy of the night.

-24-

Childe wants to ask you so bad, “Do you have a thing for guys that don't truly love you?”

Every time you call him at midnight, he has to stop himself from questioning you about your messed-up taste palates for guys. You’re always calling up Childe in the wee hours to come to pick you up because your boyfriend wouldn’t take a detour to send you home. 

He’s not sure how many times it’s been tonight. He’s not angry. He’s not angry at your boyfriend. He’s not angry at you. 

He thinks the volcano inside him can no longer be stopped with the cork stopper he’s squeezed into its mouth. 

The first thing he sees when he turns onto the street you’re at is you sitting at the curb, hunched over. He knows you’re drunk from the drawl in your voice when you called earlier. But your slumped shoulders and bobbing head tell him you’re a lot more hungover than he thought. 

Venom splashes and licks at his throat, threatening to spill out of his mouth.

Why don’t you ever choose me?

He doesn’t say anything as he slings your arm around you and helps you to his car. When he plops you down on the passenger seat, you murmur, “Ajax? Is that you?”

For fucks sake, [name]. If it wasn’t me, you’d be in deep shit.

“Yes, it’s me.”

You look up at him and giggle like a fool, eyes crinkling in your delirious state. 

As he curls his fingers around the steering wheel, you murmur, “I’m sorry… Don’t worry, he’s gone for good now.”

His hand stiffens, blood running cold. “Did he break up with you?”

You look at him with only one eye open, head still lolled back against the headrest. “Yeah.”

He takes a deep breath. If you chose me, I would make you so happy. If you chose me, you don’t have to find yourself getting dumped over and over.

“Just… Why do you choose guys who always dump you in the end?”

 I can almost count with two hands.

Hearing the annoyance in his voice, you let it seep into your tone too. “I don’t go dating guys knowing they’ll dump me, you dumb fuck.”

“Well, you clearly need to reassess the guys you choose! I’m seeing a fucking recurring pattern. They all say they like you, but they treat you like some disposable toy.”

“Fuck off, Ajax. You know why they all leave me? It’s because they’re always upset that I hang out with you!”

“Then don’t hang out with me! What’s so hard?” At this point, Childe’s ears hurt from the sheer volume of his voice in his confined convertible. 

“I-” 

You suddenly clutch your head. Childe hurls open the glove compartment and passes you a bottle of water. The smell of alcohol almost makes him revolt, but he stops himself from physically reacting. After you take a few sips of water, he reaches over and buckles your seat belt for you.

Even if he’s mad, he’s not leaving you out here. 

You stare at the floor with half-lidded eyes, as if you're looking somewhere beyond the that. Somewhere far that he cannot see (a place that you cannot clearly see too). “Ajax, I don’t want to leave you.”

The anger in Childe’s chest simmers and it turns into confusion. The more you speak through your dazed mind during your ride, the more confused he becomes. 

“No one can tear me away from you.”

“I can’t lose you.”

“You mean so much to me.”

He stays silent throughout the whole ride, your words becoming ghosts that haunt the halls of his mind. Only when he reaches the front of your house, he asks in a hushed tone, “Then, why don’t you date me?”

The inside of the car is silent only with your light snores.

The next morning, he visits you with hangover medicine and water.

“Do you remember what you said last night?” 

You look out of the window beside you, seemingly pondering.

“About my boy- I mean ex-boyfriend dumping me?”

He thinks about jogging your memory, but he finds it too embarrassing to quote you directly. 

“[name], can I tell you something?”

You hum.

“I’ve always…”

Loved you. Cherished you. Wanted to keep you by my side. 

His heart is thrumming in his chest and he hopes that you cannot hear the beats of his hammering heart.

“Thought that you look pretty funny when you’re hung over.”

He forces out a laugh and you narrow your eyes at him, unamused.

“Ajax, get out.”

-25-

In hindsight, Childe thinks this is the first time he piggybacks you. 

“Ajax, you can put me down, you know? There’s not much left to walk.”

Instead, he tightens his hands around your wrists.

“It’s because there’s not much left to walk so you should let me just piggyback you all the way.”

It’s the first time since you met him that you have your body pressed against him. It could be the last because you might marry the next guy you date. You're such an unpredictable storm to him, after all.

Asking him to go to the newly opened amusement park you had free tickets to instead of whoever you had been dating back then, asking him to go shopping with you to get clothes for a friend’s wedding. Then, persuading him to be your plus one for the wedding where he knows he wouldn’t be looking at the bride and groom, but you.

If you’re dating someone else now, would you still have asked me?

In that wedding hall, where the light spreads over your face as you look at the stage with shimmering eyes. A place where sacred vows are exchanged and he feels like he can only dream to do it with you on the altar.

It will always just be you and me in my car as friends.

He has asked himself a million times why he hasn’t asked you out. The reasons have always been the same.

Excuses.

Afraid you’d distance yourself from him. Terrified, that everything he has built up with you so far would shatter and the shards would fly and cut deep into his heart.

He bites the inside of his cheek as he sets you down, letting you hop into the passenger seat. That passenger seat has always been yours. Anyone else who sat in it was simply borrowing it. Childe hopes that the seat would be yours forever. But tonight, he can no longer pretend that “friendship” is a string strong enough to tie the two of you together forever. If he wants an eternity, then he must take a gamble. 

Besides, this car has witnessed most of the joy, sorrow, anger and everything else in between. It seemed fitting for it to see the end of whatever both of you have.

“[name], I want to say something.” He states as he closes the door of the car, eyes on the dashboard. 

You deadpan at him, asking him, “Are you trying to be funny again?”

“No.”

You see an earnest look in his eyes and you don’t see that it hides how he was about to turn into shambles. Suddenly, the space you’re in with him has become too small. 

“Listen. I-”

The urge to run away surfaces again, but he inhales as he tries to suppress it. He clenches his fist, digging his nails into his palm. 

“I’ve loved you since high school… And I thought you did too. But you have never chosen me. Why? Have I been reading too much into the things you do? Was it unreasonable for me to think that you loved me when you blurted out all those things when you were drunk?”

You clasp your hand over your mouth. He’s sure you’re going to turn tail out of his car now. Instead, fat tears start forming at the sides of your eyes and they streak down your cheek. 

You are an unpredictable storm because you crying is not one of his expected outcomes. 

He leans towards you and cups your face, frantically brushing your tears away. 

You say in between sobs, “I thought you only saw me as a friend and nothing more.”

“When did I say that? Did I do something?”

“You didn’t respond to my letter.”

He freezes, searching his mind for the memory of a letter. “Wait what? What letter?”

“That letter I put in your bag in our first year of high school!”

“I don’t-”

Oh, it was that letter. The one that sat on his desk in the first year of high school, before the winter holiday. To prevent the others from shoving their nose into yet another letter he received that year, he had shoved it into his uniform coat pocket. That day, you had also left school without walking home with him, causing him to wonder the entire time why you hadn’t wait for him. It led him to forget about the letter in his coat pocket and he had sent it for washing without taking the paper out. When he had collected his coat at the laundry, the paper had been shredded and soaked beyond saving. 

“I accidentally left it in my coat pocket when I sent it for washing. I couldn’t read the contents anymore when I went to collect it.”

The next sequence of events happens too quickly. You knit your eyebrows, scream in the closed confines of his car and punch his arm. His ears ring and pain radiates from the spot your fist landed. But it does not compare to the gut-wrenching pain he hears in your voice. 

“I fucking hate you. If you hadn’t forgotten it, I wouldn’t have gone around dating others trying to get over you.” You choke on your breaths and tears start to fall again.

Childe pulls you slowly into an embrace from his seat, whispering apologies into your ears. He only tears himself away from you when you stop hiccuping. 

“Look at me.”

You keep your eyes on the floor as a refusal. He cups your chin and gently tilts your head towards him. His eyes flicker down to your lips and he leans into you. As much as you’re mad with him, you don’t move and close your eyes. 

(Sometimes you feel like you’ve gone back to the first day he tried to drive you. Going round and round in circles, except that you’re spiralling into insanity all by yourself. When you part your lips slightly, you forget all the bitterness you’ve held all these years. When his lips touch yours, you feel Childe liberate you from the madness that stems from trying to forget your love for him. There’s no more need to forget. All you know now is finality as he places his hand atop of yours.)

-17-

Childe pants heavily as he tries to cycle up a hill. You wish you could help him, but you're more concerned about being a hindrance with your sprained ankle. The progress is little, but you know he is inching bit by bit like a caterpillar from the moving white lines on the road.

In between huffs, he says, “[name], one day… ONE DAY! I promise! I’ll get a car… And we can get over these stupid things like nothing! And… I can… drive you to wherever you need, whenever!”

You tighten your arms around his waist and you resist resting your head on his broad back.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

#childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe x y/n #childe x you #tartaglia x y/n #tartaglia x you #childe #tartaglia #genshin impact #genshin impact writing #genshin impact imagines #genshin writing #souglia.s #fun fact the first scene was heavily inspired by something that happened irl >:)

[souglias]

9:22 PM [Ayato]

c/w: none

note: for @sohyuki

Thank you for all the likes and reblogs!

Moonlight touches your skin as you emerge from Chinju Forest and you heave a sigh of relief. You are finally free from the tricks that Ayato has played on you. You thought having Ayato escort you home from the party was a good idea, plus he said he would do anything you asked today since it’s your birthday. 

But perhaps it would have been better that you didn’t. Especially with how Chinju Forest scares you, where the light of the sun does not look down upon you. 

He’s taken 10 years off your lifespan by falsely alarming you with “dark shadows lurking behind that rock”, “plant youkai that eat human souls” and shouting for no reason just to get a reaction out of you. He should be nicer to you. After all, it is your birthday!

(Ayato should have been born as a mischievous bake-tanuki instead of the Yashiro Commissioner. You shouldn’t have said yes when he said he wanted to court you. But hey, that’d mean you couldn’t court him in return.)

Gentle drops of water on your exposed skin stop your train of thought. Thunder rumbles overhead and you see a flash of purple in the distance. Ayato is unperturbed by it as he continues walking into the plains at a slow pace with your hand in his. 

“Ayato, the drizzle might turn into a thunderstorm. Perhaps we should move quicker.”

He shakes his head and continues at his own pace.

The drizzle does not turn into a thunderstorm, but it does become heavier. You can feel your shirt clinging to the skin on your shoulders and you know both of you will be soaked at the slow pace that both of you walk. 

You run ahead of him to pull him along. But instead of following your lead, he comes to a sudden halt and does not budge. Baffled at his resistance, you try to cover him from the rain instead. You tiptoe to hover your hands above his head with frantic breaths and you struggle with your balance, even though you know it will not provide him much shelter.

Ayato clasps your hands between his and brings them down in front of his chest. 

“Let’s dance, [name].”

His pale blue hair starts to plaster his face and wet splotches bloom on his silk white coat. 

“Ayato, you’re getting soaked. You’ll fall sick.”

“A little rain won’t get me down. Just this once.”

Without letting you protest, he lets go of your hands and takes a step back. Ayato stretches his arm outwards as if he’s holding something close to him. 

He says as he checks his posture, “The traveller taught this to me. It’s called the waltz.”

You realise soon after a few steps that the cogs in his brain are turning, trying to recall something. Ayato is a little uncertain, taking a while before he puts a step down. But he takes that uncertainty with pride, unashamed to take back a wrong step even if it leaves a mark on the gravel. 

His feet stop doubting themselves after a mere few minutes. 

The worry in your mind about his wellbeing has yet to calm down, but you find yourself unable to ask him to stop.

He stretches his hand out towards you. Your hand is drawn to him as if it's a magnet attracted to another. He places your left hand on his shoulder, then takes your right in his left

“Just follow me.”

You soon get used to it, even though you step on his feet quite a bit. He steps on yours at times (and you think it might be intentional).

“You’re having fun dirtying my white sandals and watching the rain sully it, aren’t you?” 

He chuckles, “Don’t make me out to be so sadistic, [name].”

You slip on the mud and he catches you, pulling you back towards him. With the proximity, you take this chance gaze deep into his eyes.

Lightning is the boyish glow in his eyes, thunder is the tap of his heels on the gravel. Gone are the elegant steps he has to take. The sly fox that lives in his eyes has slinked away; it has left for a temporary respite. No one except you and the dark skies that do not judge watch him. 

His silk coat becomes heavy with drink, but it is as if he does not have to hold up all the rainwater his silk coat has absorbed. His movements are light and you don’t see the responsibilities that weigh on his shoulders. In this moment, Ayato is only holding you.

You stop thinking about asking him to seek shelter and continue basking in the boyish charm you thought he’s lost. One that he’s abandoned to take up the duties of his parents who had passed. You are unlikely to ever see it again because of the presence of others. However, there’s a selfish desire to only keep this sight to yourself, so you’d rather you see it only once in your lifetime.

Ayato’s eyes flicker down to your lips for a moment as he dips you. You lean in a little and he kisses you. His lips taste of the raindrops that run over them and your lips meld together smoothly. It reminds you of the custom-made yukata he sent to your house this morning.

You remember his well-dressed servants in the asleep Byakko Village at the break of dawn, with a large box at your door. They uncover the box to reveal a silky smooth, soft yukata, folded and tucked in the box with care.

“Lord Kamisato wishes you a happy birthday and he hopes to see you at the party prepared for you later tonight. He would also like to ask if you would like to be Yashiro Commissioner for a day?”

“Please send him my thanks. As for the offer uh… I think I’ll pass that up.”

When the two of you break away, the rain has let up quite a bit. But you continue dancing, doing whatever the both of you wish to do. There’s no more waltz, no more following steps that people have already decided. 

Only when the clouds give way to the moon, do your hands leave each other. It’s as if you snap out of a daze the moment you do when he sneezes right after. You start tugging him in the direction of his house, not wanting him to fall sick. 

Ayato calls your name and you look back without stopping your trudge through the muddy path. Raindrops slide down his cheek and he smiles as he gives you his thanks. Your heart skips a beat with that smile that holds no ulterior motive. 

You brush the water off the tip of your fingers, careful not to touch the smile you wish you had a way to capture. 

“No, Ayato. Thank you.”

[omake]

“Wait, does that mean you danced with the traveller?”

A tinge of annoyance tangles around your heart.

“Yes. Is there a problem? Am I not allowed to dance with the traveller?”

“No, there isn’t a problem. You can dance with the traveller again. Please go ahead.”

He hugs you from behind and leans shirtless on your back. You choke on your breath, eyes darting around to check if your parents are looking. He rests his chin on your shoulder and his breath tickles your ear.

“I’ll only dance with you from now on.”

#kamisato ayato x reader #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x you #kamisato ayato x y/n #ayato x you #ayato x y/n #kamisato ayato #ayato #genshin ayato #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin writing #souglia.s

[souglias]

2:11AM [Childe]

c/w: mentions of destroying

Thank you for all likes and reblogs!

Childe is fast asleep, even with the trembling of the windows in the room. His arm hangs loosely over your waist. The curtain blocks your view, but the flashes of lightning unsettles you. Having lived in Liyue all your life, a blizzard is foreign and you never expected to experience one in your short visit to Snezhnaya. Being careful not to awake Childe, you slide out of his grasp and out of bed. 

You descend the the stairs carefully and skip certain steps. But you still step on the steps that creak, seemingly mocking your efforts to stay quiet. Exploring the house could appease your restless mind. But you still associate certain rudeness with sticking your nose in the nooks and crannies of the house. His family did say to make yourself feel at home, but there is still a line you do not dare cross. 

In the living room downstairs, a flame breathes weakly at the fireplace on a meagre piece of wood. You toss in more wood from the basket at the side. It crackles as it consumes the wood like a stray who hasn't had food for ages.

You settle on the sofa beside the growing flame. In your view, there's a glass window that you can't look away from. The gales knock angrily on the window, causing the glass windows to shiver. Rapid torrents of snow cut through the air, slicing relentlessly at the muddy light radiating from the lamp. You can't help but think there's another presence in the room, ready to ravage you like the ruthless blizzard attempting to lay waste to the trees outside.

Today is your first day in Snezhnaya. Childe has made the effort to show you around his hometown and share with you the sights he’s treasured from when he was young. But all you remember is feeling like an uneven weighing scale. A hand warmer almost burns your palm while chills run down your arms and feet where heat does not reach.

The warmth of the fireplace tickles the side of your arm, yet an emotionless cold seeps into your heart. 

“What’s wrong?”

You jump at the sudden voice from the stairs behind you. Childe attempts to rub the sleep away in his eyes as he approaches you. He plops down beside you, letting out a suppressed yawn. 

“The cold stresses me out and…” 

You dare not say the rest of your words. The image of his parents welcoming you with open arms, his older siblings taking time to find out more about you and his younger siblings swarming around you in excitement flashes in your mind. "I miss home" could come off as a critique of how they have failed as hosts.

Childe treats his family like a prized pearl. If he hears that, would the flame alight in his heart for you be snuffed out by the frost? Perhaps in a few minutes, you’d be out at the mercy of the freezing temperatures.

Childe leans into you a little, still keeping some distance. “And…?” 

You finish your sentence softly, as if you’re still trying to prevent him from hearing anything. There’s nothing from him as an aeon passes. 

(It’s only been a second.)

Childe shifts closer to you on the sofa meant for two. His sides touch yours and he takes your hand in his. Rubbing circles on the back of your hand, he reassures you, “It’s only your first day here, don’t be too hard on yourself.”

You nod, still unconvinced.

“The cold is tough on even us locals too.”

He lets go of your hand and circles his arms around your shoulders. Childe rests his head on your shoulder and snuggles closer to you. “Besides, I can always shield you from the cold with a hug. I’ll buy you all the hand warmers and heat packs you need. Maybe we could create our portable fireplace if that’s what you want too,” he drawls as sleep creeps into his voice.

But before he dozes off, he says, “If it gets too difficult for you, don’t hesitate to tell me that you want to leave. This land will always be here for you to come back to. I'll always be waiting for you here.”

His voice trails off. You lean on his head, careful not to awaken him. The blizzard outside accentuates the warmth of Childe’s skin on yours. The icy storm in your mind calms. A flower blooms in your heart amidst the howling winter.

#childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe x y/n #childe x you #tartaglia x y/n #tartaglia x you #childe #tartaglia #genshin childe #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin writing #souglia.s

[souglias]

In Another Reality [Kazuha]

c/w: angst, hurt/comfort, mention of a bug, implied blood in one line, separation, recent GAA spoilers

note: thank you to Mint and Feiyue for looking through this for me &lt;3

Thank you for all the likes and reblogs!

Cross-posted on AO3

Born to a family of servants under the Kaedehara clan, your childhood was spent under the roof of the Kaedehara house that you no longer have access to. Most of your memories had Kazuha in them (the first time you met him, the first time you sparred with him with branches, the first and last time you won him in a game of shogi), but those that didn’t have him were those with family.

With your mother’s history as the shrine maiden before she had married, she had many stories to tell you when she had spare time. Those you remember vividly are about the phenomenon of kamikakushi, people being spirited away. You remember her holding about her pointer finger as she warns, “People say that you should never eat or drink anything from that world if you ever get spirited away. Otherwise, you’ll be trapped forever.”

A part of you skeptical about your mother’s stories, you lock the stories in the back of your mind. That is until you enter Kazuha’s domain at the Golden Apple Archipelago. The memory resurfaces, leading you to remind yourself over and over never to touch the tea sets and plates of food you see in the domains. You wouldn’t call this getting spirited away, but it is another world after all.

When you open your eyes after Kazuha touches the bonsai for the third time, you are standing alone. Large wooden sliding doors tower in front of you as you stand in the spacious genkan. You call out the names of your travelling companions, but you get no response.

As if you’re doing a hesitant gamble, you whisper, “Kazuha?”

You are being too hopeful. Sighing, you slip your feet out of your sandals.

“My love?”

Kazuha’s voice comes out muffled behind the wooden door. You almost trip when stepping up onto the wooden floorboard. Perhaps it was just an illusion. After all, domains are unpredictable and unexplainable. A warp in time and space.

You hear your name through the door again. Gingerly, you press your hands against the sliding doors and shift them outwards. It reveals a man all too familiar to you. Except that he’s wearing a white silk kosode with red accents and flowing sleeves on both sides. Maple leaves are sewn meticulously onto his hakama and a gold crest with a maple leaf etched is pinned on a simple red fabric belt.

Eyes running up his body, you settle your gaze on his eyes. There are dark circles underneath his eyes and faint wrinkles on his bottom lid. Beyond the crimson irises, there is only a dim candlelight braving the ruthless gales.

Kazuha outstretches his hand to you and you notice his scar-less hands. When you take his hand, you feel a writer’s callus on his finger that you don’t recall him having.

He brings you down the familiar dim corridor and the wooden floor creaks the way you remember it. The servants in the house shuffle across your vision as the two of you walk, opening and closing the paper sliding doors. A few familiar faces that perk up when they see you and new faces who only spare you a glance in their busy flurry.

Bright sunlight spills into your vision when Kazuha opens the sliding door, causing you to squint your eyes. When you open your eyes again, you see a tea set on the floor with two zabutons on opposite sides of it.

As you step into the room, you note the slightly frayed tatami flooring below your feet and notice the nihonga of maples that has its colours dulled. There is also now a shelf full of bound books. Below it, a sturdy bonsai.

Kazuha invites you to settle on the zabuton opposite him. You shuffle around in your seat in an attempt to shake off the awkwardness (and the unsettling feeling festering in your chest).

You notice that instead of hard sweets, there is a plate of crackers that comes with the tea set instead. Kazuha reassures you, “Don’t worry, it is only the two of us. We shall go ahead and forgo the formalities today.”

Still as attuned to your thoughts and emotions as ever.

Kazuha picks up the teapot and you hurry to hold up your teacup to him. As he tips the teapot, the fragrance of the tea reaches your nose. Nostalgia fills your heart. You used to try making this tea for Kazuha when the both of you were kids.

You had thought you could do it just by looking at the elder servants brewing tea. But in the end, you had accidentally tipped the burnt tea over the tatami flooring and earned yourself a harsh scolding from your parents.

After Kazuha finishes pouring the tea, he closes his eyes as he brings the cup up to his lips. On the other hand, as you bring the teacup up to your lips, you’re hit with a cruel reminder that you’re in a domain. And there are rules you have to abide by unless you can shoulder the possible consequences.

Your arms droop back down to your lap, your cup cradled in both hands. A few moments pass when only the tea timidly sways and brushes at the mouth of the cup.

“What’s wrong? Is the tea not to your liking? I made this with you in mind, but it seems like I have more to work on.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I’m sure the tea is great, Ka- my lord. I’m just not sure if I can stomach anything right now.”

His eyes widen and he asks with alarm in his voice, “Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

After you shake your head, he adds, “Please, don’t call me that. Kazuha will do.”

You force a smile as he shuffles to your side to envelope your hands with his. It feels like he is searching for something in your eyes as he gazes into them. A few moments pass and he simply suggests, “Shall we walk around the courtyard?”

Seeing no harm, you agree. He lets go of your hand to stand up he holds his hand out for you once again. This time, you take his hand a little more tentatively.

(You do not know if you deserve to hold his hand.)

Even before you exit into the courtyard, you hear the bamboo by the fountain hitting a rock. Water is still flowing through it (just like how time is still flowing through the house of Kaedehara here).

But there are no longer any colourful koi that waltz with one another in the almost still water of the pond. The grass is unevenly trimmed as if done in a hurry. The towering maple tree that stretches above the pond is left with nothing but a few leaves clinging onto its branches.

“I’m sorry that the courtyard is more unkempt than it should be. The servants have other tasks to tend to and I do not wish to overload them.”

You shake your head. Trying to lighten the atmosphere, you tease, “It’s okay. Besides, do you see me as one to nitpick over decorations?”

Kazuha chuckles in agreement. He leads you to sit at the bottom of the tree. Even though you wonder if it is proper for him to do this as you watch the white silk get slightly sullied, you do not question him.

When you close your eyes, you remember that Kazuha and you used to sprawl out on the cushiony grass underneath the tree.

Both of you had laid down on the grass under the shade of the maple tree, panting and heaving from one of your spars using fallen tree branches. You basked in the filtered sunlight and gazed into the part of the azure bright sky uncovered by the red leaves. When you turned to your side, you saw Kazuha’s face softened by the soft red light. Maybe that was the moment you knew that you loved him even though you were only a kid. Maybe you would have told him to marry you with a ring made using a leaf if a caterpillar hadn’t dropped on your shoulder.

"Do you remember that time when a caterpillar dropped on your shoulder?”

Your eyes widen and you hold your breath, abruptly turning your head to face him. From the time you entered the domain till now, you have never been so certain about whether he was truly Kazuha. Your heart drops when you can no longer ignore that he is not a mirage. He is also Kazuha. Because only Kazuha would be privy to that incident.

He places a hand above yours. Before he speaks, he turns his gaze back into the sky (or perhaps he is looking at something beyond).

“My love, I believe I should no longer keep it from you. I am aware that we are in a domain and I am likely to be an alternate reality created by this domain. If you choose to, you have the power to make all these into reality.”

Your breath hitches. All the hidden desires of your heart overflow out of its prison and you feel a glimmer of hope. There is no more having to wander the world, unsure when you could rest your feet in one place. You could live a normal life with Kazuha, doing all the things you wanted to do together with him in Inazuma.

“But that would mean that your current reality will cease to exist as the domain projects this mirage into the real world.”

Your heart drops. Nothing good could ever come out of a domain. The glimmer of hope that you saw a little while ago blinks and flickers as if it is also uncertain of its being.

“I am sorry that this decision has fallen into your hands and that I have no power to unchain you from this responsibility.”

You bite the inside of your cheek again, tasting a hint of metal on your tongue.

He continues, “No matter what you choose, I will not blame you.”

The house has witnessed all the trivial and significant moments between you and Kazuha. Even before he had professed your love to you, you envisioned a future with him in this very house. You would laugh, smile and cry with him here. Your parents would also be within your reach, no longer left behind in Inazuma by themselves.

Kazuha has been forced to grow up and you know it the best, being by his side for all the time you’ve known.

But one is unshackled, and the one in front of you has been chained to heavy responsibilities and carrying what seems like the weight of the world on his shoulders.

His eyes remind you of his father’s eyes. Ones that struggled to stay open not just due to age, but also because of the weight of the responsibilities. You cannot help but feel that someone of Kazuha’s age should not have eyes so worn out and wrinkled.

With sorrow and decision in your heart, you swallow the lump in your throat.

"I’m sorry. I can’t choose this.” (You are sorry that you are not choosing him, you are sorry that you are possibly robbing him of his future.)

You blink back your tears and attempt to speak without interruption. “I do not wish to see you so worn out, burdened and imprisoned.”

Kazuha cups your cheek and brushes your flowing tears with his thumb. There is a hint of sadness in his eyes but it crinkles with relief as he smiles. “Thank you, for always looking out for me. No matter where and when we are.”

You clench your teeth but your tears keep gushing out of your eyes. Strangled words of apology fall off your lips too. In return, Kazuha squeezes your hands while he reassures you that everything is okay. In your blurred vision, you think you see Kazuha’s eyes glossed over.

When you have calmed, Kazuha slides his arm around your shoulders. “Everyone is waiting for you, shall we go?”

(You do not know why he says ‘we’ when you are the only one leaving him in what will cease to exist soon.)

In the short walk from the courtyard to the exit of the house, you keep your eyes on the wooden floor. It is the last time that you will hear it cry beneath your feet (and it sounds like it is begging you not to go).

At the door, you turn back and stare at the corridor behind Kazuha. You then finally look into Kazuha’s crimson eyes. In his fatigued eyes, you see the sorrow in yours.

Your eyes flicker to his lips and you lean into his lips tentatively. You do not know how close to his lips you are with your shut eyes, but you think you would have at least brushed his lips if not for his hand that comes up between your lips and his.

Kazuha smiles sadly, “I would love to, my love. But I’m worried that you’d unintentionally consume the tea and that it’ll keep you tied to this reality that you do not wish to live in.”

He slides his hand to cup your cheek and traces his thumb over your lips. You clasp your hand around his and kiss his knuckle, your lips lingering on them.

Before you turn to leave, he grabs your wrist.

“Wait, promise me one thing.”

(It is all you can do for him, so you nod.)

“Don’t look back until you find me again.”

There is only him that you will go to, but you will also never find him who lives in nobility again.

With no resentment in his eyes, Kazuha smiles. “[name]. I love you.”

You bite back your tears and you only manage to murmur. “I love you too.”

Without hesitation, you turn your back to him and step out of the house. As you walk down the only path you see, you resist the urge to break his promise.

Every step forward pricks your heart but you do not turn back. That is until the mirage of The Alcor comes into view. You step onto the Alcor and everyone turns their attention away from the bonsai to look at you.

They all call your name in shock and ask you what happened, but you say nothing more than that you’ve been separated. Amid all the concern they throw towards you, you finally turn back.

Mist is the only thing you see, and you see the door of the Kaedehara house no more. Guilt clenches your heart when you meet Kazuha’s gaze over the others’ shoulders. When you blink, you can see him wearing that white silk kosode. You blink again and he’s wearing the attire you’ve known him to wear for his travels.

Even with the smile you adorn, Kazuha looks at you like he knows what is wrong. He does not ask you anything until the both of you are alone at night.

“Love, look at me. You haven’t looked at me ever since guilt claimed your beautiful features.”

His eyes are brilliant with stars in them, but you cannot help but remember the exhausted pair that you saw earlier. The whole sequence of events tumbles out of your mouth and in the process, tears start to pool in your eyes. You feel like you are confessing your sins under the gaze of the archons when you admit that you had thoughts of rejecting the current reality.

Kazuha pulls you into an embrace. He whispers into your ear as he pats your back. “My star, I am right, I wouldn’t be mad. And I am sorry too, that I could not have taken that responsibility for myself.”

A heart-wrenching ache runs rampant in your chest. Still in the embrace, you whisper, “May I kiss you, please?”

Kazuha shifts his hand onto your shoulders and his eyes flicker to your lips before he presses his lips on yours. The kiss is tender and comforting. A small wave of relief soothes your aching heart like water running over your feet on a hot day.

When he pulls away, he gently holds your hand and brings your knuckles to his lips. “Yes, my dove. Always, wherever and whenever.”

#kazuha x reader #kazuha x y/n #kazuha x you #kaedehara kazuha #genshin kazuha #genshin impact #genshin writing #genshin impact writing #genshin impact imagines #souglia.s #my brain has been unrotted and I can't believe I finished this with whatever free time I had #good night <3

[souglias]

I see there's still a slot left for foul legacy: raging tide so I hope I'm not too late to request something 👀

Three things about me:

As I said in my other ask, I love to draw and write and I try to do that as much as I can during my free time between hw and class. Although it's been much harder to find time during college and I am often plagued with art/ writer's block 😔

I'm a bio major and I have no problem with handling bugs and other little critters that most people get queasy about. Once you've dissected sheep brains and whole squids, grabbing a spider isn't such a big deal lol

It generally takes me a while to start seeing someone as a close friend rather than a friendly acquaintance that I sometimes see in class. In the same vein it also takes me a while to begin considering someone as a possible romantic partner bc I only start to feel attraction after I've known them for a while and established an emotional connection

I'm a big fan of the star student/delinquent trope and even though I'm not really the type that only cares about studying, I do generally prioritize that over other things

Thank you in advance!! I can't wait to see the rest of this event unfold :D

The Delinquent [Childe]

c/w: mentions and implications of rumours, implication of bad school culture, Biology dissection (not described in detail)

Note: Hello!! I'm so so sorry this fic took so long! I wasn't particularly inspired for this fic so I was holding it off, then school came in the way for quite a bit. I don't know much about dissections, but I did a quick Google search and I hope I've written it such that it's not too difficult to believe. I hope that you enjoy this!

word count: 1.5k

--

Sun and moon. Both you and Childe live worlds apart. The two of you are only in each other’s orbit, seeing each other from a distance. The closest that you’ll ever get is being a few seats away in biology class. However, even though you only share one class with him, you know him all too well.

Childe is the infamous sporty kid in school. He’s also one who often wins academic competitions for the school. The student body doesn’t necessarily dislike him either. In fact, the girls adore him. They think that he’s hot and charming. But outside of his friend group, everyone is mostly too intimidated by his aura to approach him. 

You can also always count on Childe to constantly talk back to teachers and staff. Now and then, you would catch him breaking school rules by exploiting their loopholes. The school hasn’t expelled him, given that he’s not causing harm or trouble to anyone. On top of that, he largely excels in many areas. Though… There are rumours of him beating other students up. But no one has actually seen him do so.

You, on the other hand, keep to your group of friends. That’s how you decided you were going to spend the rest of your school life. Comfortable with a group of friends that you cherish deeply, out of the spotlight. 

That is until Childe decides to collide into your world for a reason you cannot bring yourself to turn down. Okay, you could have, but you don't dare to.

As a short breather from studying in the library, you doodle a little. Childe walks up to your side while you’re doing so. 

With a volume lower than usual, he greets you. “Hey, [name]- Oh these look pretty cute.”

You dropped your pencil on your notebook, taken aback that the Childe is talking to you. 

“What’s up, Childe?” you ask as your hand subtly shifts above the doodles in your notebook. Honestly, you want nothing to do with him. But, at the same time, you are courteous enough not to shut someone out the first time they speak to you.

He smiles sheepishly as he requests, “Sorry to bother you, but could you give me a demonstration on the dissection of a sheep’s brain?”

You only blink at him in response. You asked him to repeat, making sure you didn’t mishear him. Assuming you couldn’t hear him, he raises his volume. Only slightly, so as not to disturb other students. 

“I need some help on dissecting a sheep’s brain and I’d like you to show me a demonstration. Would that be okay for you?”

Fumbling over your words a little, you agree to help him with his dissection. “Great! Thank you so much, [name]. Will tomorrow after our biology lesson be good?”

“Yeah, sure…”

With that, he walks off with a slight skip in his steps. But you, on the other hand, are highly preoccupied with your thoughts. You think you got a little too nervous around him. They say you shouldn’t show fear in front of what you are afraid of. Wait, since when were you afraid of him?

On top of that worry, you aren’t sure if you should be proud that Childe thinks highly enough of you to ask you for help, or if you should be concerned that you are now responsible for tutoring the infamous school delinquent instead. 

Do you really know the dissection like the back of your hand? What if he asks you about the details that you've thrown to the back of your mind? As an extra precaution, you start to relook at your notes on the dissection. Before you sleep at night, you give your notes one last read too.

The next day, you realise during lessons that you forgot to check if there was a supervising teacher present after school. For students to use the laboratory after school, there is a rule stating that a teacher has to be present. Childe probably wouldn’t heed that rule in normal circumstances. But since your last lesson is Biology in the laboratory with him, your teacher would definitely know both of you are staying back. If there was no one around, your teacher wouldn’t permit you two to use the room and kick the both of you out. 

So, you pray. You pray that there wouldn’t be any supervising teacher, so you’d get to slip out on Childe. But unfortunately, when class ends, you find out that your teacher is on duty today.

Sighing internally, you resign yourself to helping Childe. As you prepare your workbench, you catch your teacher's eyes darting between the two of you. Likely surprised that both of you speak to each other, you suppose. You'd be surprised too.

When all the preparation is done, you try to hide your disappointment and ask, “So, how do you want me to teach this to you?” 

“You can do a step-by-step demonstration, then I’ll try to follow along.”

After every step, you check on the steps that he executes. While doing so, you notice how slender his hands are and the little faded scars on them. 

“[Name]? We can continue.”

You snap out of your daze and mutter an apology, continuing the dissection. At some point, you stop him. “Hold on, you’re about to cut the wrong part.”

He shifts his gaze over to your scalpel, trying to assess the exact point to cut. Before he does anything, you move over to his side as you always do when you teach your friends. You wrap your hand around his that holds the scalpel and you guide his hand.

Childe becomes momentarily distracted by your touch on his. He tries to ignore the feeling of his skin tingling and regain his focus. 

(But it is for nought because all he can think of is how cool you are for being so good at Biology. Heck, not just Biology, but other subjects too. Words of your consistently stellar grades don’t escape him.)

You only realise the proximity between the two of you after you let go of his hand. Taking a step back, your leg bumps into the stool. You stumble for a bit. Childe’s hand reaches out to your arm and it hovers right above your skin, ready to catch you. But you don’t fall and a few moments pass.

Inside, you beat yourself up a little for almost falling onto the ground in front of someone you’ve barely spoken to before. You straighten yourself and Childe withdraws his hand back to his side. 

You clear your throat in an attempt to dissipate the tension in the air. “There’s only one more step left to go. I can show that to you and if you’re good, we can pack up.”

You note how hot your face feels and hope he doesn’t tell this to his friend circle. You don’t particularly like them, given the amount of drama they attract. 

You try to concentrate, though the incident earlier remains at the front of your mind. Soon, he ends the procedure without a hitch, so you assume that you’ve taught him the right step despite your lack of focus. With that, both of you clean up the workbench. 

Childe finishes cleaning up faster than you. He always packs up quickly after class, and you chalk up his speed to his desire to leave class early. You think he’s about to leave when he comes over to help you. When he does, he thanks you.

“Thanks for the tutoring session, [name].”

A few seconds of silence lapse. You’re not sure if you should thank him for helping you. But before you say anything, he asks, “Say… could I ask you for more help next time? I struggle quite a bit with Biology.”

Immediately, you nod. It'll just be more tutoring sessions that'll benefit you too. Though, you ask, “Don’t you have friends who do Biology?”

Childe’s face sours a little, a smile still plastered on his face. He whispers, “Let’s just say that while I do hang out with them, I don’t like to stay around them more than I need to.”

Your eyes widen slightly. The two of you have more in common than you thought.

As the two of you walk down the hallways to the exit, he exchanges contacts with you. Childe does a tiny fist pump in the air. “Nice! Now, we can easily arrange study sessions!”

He turns to look at you and offers, “If you need anything too, you can always ask me!”

Childe flashes you a smile. He’s really not so bad.

When the two of you part ways at the school gate, you wave to him. He returns one with that annoyingly vibrant smile of his. But, maybe you could get used to this.

Only then do you realise, oh, you are in so much danger. The moon is reaching its orbit closest to the sun now.

--

All likes and reblogs are appreciated! Thank you <3

#childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe x y/n #childe x you #tartaglia x y/n #childe #tartaglia #genshin childe #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #childe imagines #tartaglia imagines #genshin writing #souglia.s #[celebration of monoceros caeli]