Hi !!

the 7-eleven diaries

albedo, alhaitham, childe, scaramouche, venti x gn!reader

your job isn’t the best one out there, but it’s easy and keeps you from drowning in tuition fees and rent. working at a 7-eleven on a midnight shift was supposed to be peaceful, so why is it that you constantly find yourself being bothered by weird customers? (modern au)

fluff, comedy, crack, cashier employee reader, modern au, written for fluffvember!

ALBEDO

It’s difficult not to take notice of the perpetually tired college student (much like yourself) who always comes at the latest hours to order a cup of black coffee and a can of beer. The first time you saw him order that drink was a memorable one, if only because of the way your eyes had nearly popped out of their sockets when you saw him mix the two drinks in a large, empty slurpee cup and proceed to drink it all in a matter of seconds.

Another memorable time was when he came in with only enough money to buy a bottle of water, then took a seat at a table near the counter and took out a box full of what you initially presumed were cookies. It was a traumatizing memory you look back on with a shudder as you remember the way he crunched down on it like it was a piece of biscuit instead of a motherfucking spider.

“They’re surprisingly nutritional, full of protein and fibre. It leaves a strange aftertaste, but it’s a good substitute for dinner.”

Since then, you’ve made sure to keep some food ready in the microwave for him, free of charge. He just looked so pitiful sitting by himself with dark under-eyes and greasy hair — the very image of a normal college student — that you couldn’t help yourself from taking money out of your own pocket to help a fellow comrade.

One day, he came to the store with blown pupils and a sort of dazed look in his eyes, words slurring together as he tried to explain to you how he’s finally created an edible liquid that can keep sleep at bay for at least 120 hours…with some small side-effects, but it’ll wear off with time. That’s when you found out he was a bio-chemistry student well on his way to getting a PhD at his young age.

When questioned why he drank the liquid instead of having someone else do it, his response was, “To experience it firsthand, of course. The basis of research is accuracy and precision, how could I be remiss as to leave such an important experiment to someone who could, in their ignorance, fail to mention an important detail that their mind might have labeled as useless.”

You’re not quite sure how he’s still alive by this point.

But his weirdness aside, you resolve to take care of him in your own way, from a fellow tired college student to another. You remind him to get some sleep, steering him away from eating spiders and encouraging him to eat more meat.

“But I am eating meat?”

“Albedo, that’s a spider.”

“And are you saying that spiders do not possess meat?”

“Oh, for the love of—just eat the goddamn sandwich.”

You think he appreciates it, if the way he dedicated his latest thesis to you is any indication.

ALHAITHAM

You were in the middle of answering a math problem your professor assigned that morning, papers sprawled over the counter with you hunched over it, hand in your hair and trying not to pull at it in frustration over how difficult the problem was. And then he’d come in like an angel, all perfectly shiny hair and a no-nonsense look on his face, took one look at you and the papers scattered across the counter and said one sentence that saved your grade in math.

“You forgot to put a negative sign right there.”

That was the moment you decided that he must be an angel sent from heaven. He always grunts whenever you call him that, though whether it’s from amusement or annoyance remains to be seen.

He doesn’t visit the convenience store much, but when he does, he always spares the time to help you out with whatever assignment you were working on, sometimes even taking the initiative of asking if you need his assistance in answering a problem — though he says this on a much less nicer tone.

“Are you gonna make me do your homework again?”

“My professer didn’t assign me one today, surprisingly enough, so no.”

He seemed strangely disappointed when you told him no, but you chalked it up to him being some sort of math wiz who gets riled up by equations and the like. Seems like kind of guy too, what with all the times he’s made a subtle jab at your intelligence — or lack, thereof.

“How could you possibly need a paper to calculate the answer to four-hundred and thirty-two times fifty-eight?”

“Not all of us are smarter than Rukkhadevata like you.”

“Who?”

He’s not bad company, though that opinion stems solely from the fact that he helps you (solves it for you, more like) with all your homework. Not without making comments about you lazing about on the job and letting your customer answer your assignment for you. You respond in a mature way by making fun of him.

“I’ve never seen you without those earphones. Are you hiding a pair of large ears or something?”

“No.”

He refuses to elaborate more on the subject.

Sometimes you give him a drink, usually cola or juice, as thanks for helping you out. He takes it without question, taking sips from it as he tutors you about this and that, occasionally commenting about your job and how you’re only making yourself suffer by taking on midnight shifts. You don’t see why he cares. For all that you jokingly call him an angel, you know he’s far from actually being one.

You once saw him on campus reading a book by the library. It’s easy enough to come up to him and make conversation, handing him an unopened drink you just bought from a vending machine. It just feels wrong not to, more of a habit by this point.

It’s then that someone decides to dramatically drop his books to the ground and point at you and Alhaitham. The blonde guy gapes and asks how in the world Alhaitham managed not to scare you away. His eyes zero in on the can of grape juice on Alhaitham’s hand, and then he proceeds to laugh, asking Alhaitham since when did he decide to start drinking what he once called was an unhealthy drink composed of sugar and artificial flavoring.

You made a mental note of that response, and later that night, you decide to hand him a packaged biscuit. Nothing unhealthy there. Technically.

“Good. I was beginning to wonder if I should start taking medicine in case my stomach burst from the amount of cola you hand me.”

“You could’ve just not accepted, you know.”

“It was given to me. Not accepting would be considered rude.”

“Didn’t Kaveh say you threw a bottle of orange juice to his face after he gave you one?”

“I did.”

He refuses to elaborate more on the subject, but you’ve since resolved to only give him the healthiest thing you could find on the store—which isn’t much considering this is a 7-eleven, but hey, microwaved salad is still salad, right?

He grumbles about the radiation but eats the salad anyway. Another win for you, you suppose.

CHILDE

He came in near the end of your shift, lips busted and an eye swollen shut, blood splattered all over his clothes. The grin of his face should’ve hinted you at his lunacy, but you’ve always been blind to warnings and the like, so you went over the counter and helped him up from where he’s slumped over the chips and candies isle.

Aether, your co-worker and the one who’s about to take over from your shift, only looked at you with tired eyes, “It’s too early for this shit.” That was, of course, Aether’s way of basically saying, you’re on your own.

So you picked up the ginger lying on the linoleum floors, heaving his arm over your shoulder to drag him to the nearest pharmacy — never let it be said that you were just a bystander. He groaned as the movement bothered whatever injuries he may have, but he still looked at you with wide, strangely lightless eyes, as if only now registering your presence, and said, “Holy shit, you’re hot.”

After you finished dumping him on the pharmacy and leaving the people there baffled at what to do with an injured guy, he grabbed your wrist and, with a bloody smile he probably thought was charming, handed you a piece of paper containing his number.

You never text him. Or call.

He comes back to the store a week later with faint yellow bruises across his face and a far too bright grin for someone who’s visiting a 7-eleven at two in the morning. He pouts about not getting a single text from you, but before you can respond, he’s moving on to another topic, mindlessly picking up a box of tampons by the side and setting it on the counter.

He only seems to realize what he’s done when you give him a strange look.

“Tampons are, uh, great for bloody noses!”

“…Right.”

You weren’t convinced at all, but you decided to let it slide. He seemed like a genuine guy, if a bit too enthusiastic sometimes. His mouth never shuts ups, always going on about this and that, asking all sorts of questions that would’ve normally had most normal people backing away. But your brain isn’t exactly at its best condition and being sleep deprived for the better part of your life has made it less of a brain and more of an organ that just helps you get through the day.

You don’t know exactly why he stays to chat with you, buying ridiculous amounts of stuff that were frankly far too expensive just to have an excuse to talk to you. You don’t mind it much, especially when he’s a great deterrent for any unwanted petty thieves or middle school delinquents trying to rob your store every week or so.

Apparently, he’s got a reputation for being a bit of an adrenaline junkie and being willing to fight anything and everything that breathes. And apparently, word’s gotten out that he’s into you, like, really into you, so most guys who have less-than-well intentions have decided that robbing the local 7-eleven isn’t worth the trouble if it means having to deal with Ajax.

“Actually, it’s Tartaglia.”

“Tarantula?”

“No, Tartaglia. It’s my street name! Ajax just doesn’t inspire the same fear into other people’s hearts the same way Tartaglia does.”

“Whatever you say, Tortilla.”

“It’s Tartaglia!”

He never brings up the fact that you never call or text him back, even when he’s somehow gotten ahold of your number and started sending you memes and updates about his day. When asked, he just shrugs and says he’ll win you over eventually.

SCARAMOUCHE

It wasn’t intentional, and you’ll admit it was completely your fault, but did he have to be such an asshole about you dozing off on the counter?

“Have the standards really fallen so low that employees are now afforded to sleep on the job?”

Here was this guy at two in the morning, bemoaning society’s failure in raising the new generation to have a proper work ethic at a 7-eleven store. The guy had a rolex watch and clothes that looked like they were worth more than your monthly salary — you’re not one to judge other people’s appearances, but he’s the very image of nepotism. And frankly speaking, you’re of the opinion that rich people shouldn’t be entitled to an opinion on what the working class decides do with their life, like falling asleep on the job.

…And oh, you just said that out loud, didn’t you?

Oh well, your manager will understand.

The guy with a bowl cut leaves fuming, but not before slapping a wad of cash down the counter to pay for his stupidly expensive noodles, snarling at you to keep the change since you clearly need it more than him.

You do, in fact, keep the change. Money is money, whether it’s from your salary or a rich boy throwing a tantrum.

The next day in class, a bag slams down the seat beside you, and you’re met with the same rich boy from last night, a scowl painting his rather pretty face as he hisses lowly about how he’s surprised you can afford to go to college. Talk about holding a grudge, you would’ve forgotten all about him from last night if he hadn’t given you his change.

He fumes even more when you don’t give him any sort of reaction, merely nodding your head at him and turning back to the board to listen to your professor drone on about this and that. It’s rather difficult to focus, however, when he keeps muttering sarcastic comments and barbs to the teacher beneath his breath.

“If you even had an iota of charm about you, perhaps your wife wouldn’t have filed for a divorce.”

You choked on a laugh, hand coming up muffle the sound, but he clearly noticed, judging by the way he snaps his head to you, eyes wide and seemingly surprised you found it funny. You only smile at him, an amused little thing, but he quickly looked away and murmured something unintelligible beneath his breath, his fists clenched and the tips of his ears curiously pink.

He comes back to visit your job that night, still with that air of haughtiness about him but a bit toned down. Even more surprising was the fact he didn’t immediately leave the moment he handed you his money.

“Do you want the change?”

“Are you so desperate for money that you’d go begging a total stranger for some spare coin?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess.”

“Tch, fine. You can have it.”

He never fails to come back every night, always giving you the change for his bill, even when the amount is more than the items he paid for. Sometimes, he’ll even take out a snack or a drink from the bag and slide them over to you, cheeks suspiciously red as he did so.

“Don’t think this means anything. I’m only giving this to you because I know you can’t afford it.”

“It’s literally worth ten mora.”

“Would it kill you to at least give me a thank you?”

“Thank you, Kunikuzushi. I’ll be sure to treasure this can of cola that I would’ve never been able to afford without your help.”

“Shut up.”

He buys you a tub of ice cream the next night, the ridiculously expensive kind, to prove a point. The two of you eat it together at one of the tables, him grumbling about the stain on the table and the overall lack of quality and taste — at a 7-eleven — and you laughing whatever he says.

Well, you suppose he’s not as much of an asshole as you initially assumed.

VENTI

He’s a bit popular in campus, in the sense that nearly everyone is friends with him, which makes it impossible not to have heard about that one guy who’s really great at singing. You were, unfortunately, one of the few that aren’t well acquainted with him — aren’t acquainted with him at all.

So when he comes up to the counter, all boyish grin and ridiculously short shorts and a cute little pink hair clip keeping his bangs away from his face, holding an entire household’s worth of vodka and wine, you do what any rational semi-adult would do and look at him with a blank face.

“Are you even old enough to drink?”

He laughs at you like this is a common occurrence he faces on the daily before slapping down his ID on the counter. And huh, would you look at that, he’s even older than you are.

He then lights up once he gets a good look at you. “Hey, you’re Albedo’s friend, aren’t you?” He abandons his alcohol at the counter in favor of looking around your quaint little convenient store. “So this is that 7-eleven he keeps talking about…”

You’re not exactly sure what he’s going on about, but you do know he must be a friend of Albedo’s, which makes you ease up around him. He’s nice. Sort of. If you ignore the teasing and the jokes and the way he keeps asking you to give him a student discount. For alcohol. You’d given him what you hoped was your best imitation of Kunikuzushi’s stink eye. You think you got it on point, if the way he deflates is any indication.

He comes around the store every weekend, saying he’s here to get a little treat for the awful weekday he’s had. You never fail to remind him that he has class every Sunday, to which he responds by opening a can of beer (which he hasn’t paid for yet) and sitting on the counter, bemoaning the injustice of putting classes during the weekends.

You once asked him why he keeps hanging around this store when there’s a perfectly good bar right around the corner, owned by that popular red-haired business major from your university. Venti just laughed and said he prefers the quietness here — and the company, he added with a wag of his eyebrows. He always teases you, sometimes borderline flirting, but it’s easy enough to wave it away.

The day you discovered he was actually well known in campus was when your university hosted a local event. There’d been stalls and booths set up everywhere and even a little mock-stage put up near the center for any band or singer to perform in. It’d been nice to have a break from the monotonous routine of going to class and studying then working at your job and getting less than ideal sleep.

And then you heard your name booming out from the speakers, and you turn your head to see Venti on the stage with that little lyre he sometimes carries with him to the store, saying he’d like your opinion on a song or two he composed.

He dedicates the song to to you in front of the entire student body, then proceeds to sing the cheesiest, most gut-wrenching and cringiest love song of all time.

“Why did you have to pick that song?”

“Because it’s fun and cute!”

“I sometimes question your ability to distinguish cute from horrifyingly monstrous.”

There’s a mortified look on your face, but amidst the embarrassment and the teasing remarks of his friends, there’s a smile on your face that you can’t bring yourself to wipe away.

i’ll be doing a part two on this but with diluc, dottore, kazuha, xiao, and zhongli!

@maehemthemisfit @sonder-paradise @96jnie @komiyaa @scaramouchenumber1fan @linn-a-a @wisteriaflowersss @ineriris @yesntforno @serramii @shadowmist0706 @jmgrule @imeanwatever @c00kie-cat @serramii @xtodorokismistressx @ieathairs @endlessmari @strawberryclumsy @serenity-ren-bliss @scarasbaby

---

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 | you were a simple insomniac college student who could see ghosts and dead souls after a certain incident in your past. just as you were already sick of the souls haunting you every night, you decided to establish the paranormal club in teyvat university together with your four best friends where you were tasked to help the ghosts fulfill their last wishes so you could finally find your most awaited sleep.

...though that was easier said than done. especially when your said friends mostly operates based logic...and already so full of your bullshit and shenanigans since childhood.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 | gn!reader, albedo, cyno, tighnari and scaramouche. But almost all of the genshin characters will appear, too!

𝐂𝐖 / 𝐓𝐖 | genshin social media au with a lot of written fics; college au with a dash of childhood friends au; cursing; possible graphic depiction of violence and death/murder (but not the characters); possible murder and ghost cases solving; reverse harem-esque(?); no proofread so expect grammar mistakes; inspired by the k-drama master's sun!

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 | supernatural, romantic comedy, friendship, mystery/thriller, a bit horror, found family.

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 | on going

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

paranormal enthusiasts (profile below!)

teyvat university's student council.

teyvat university's news publication.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈 : 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐄.

scene 01 : we need a new member.

scene 02 : who is our new target, now?

scene 03 : the plan to make him ours.

scene 04 : the dumb, the dumber, the dumbest and the very dumbest.

scene 05 : the paranormal club.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈 : 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓.

scene 06 : our first mission, commence!

scene 07 : ... --- ...

scene 08 : -

tba...

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐁.

[NAME] : a college student who likes keeping their course a secret even to their friends just for the fun of it. After a certain incident in their childhood that allows them to see the souls of the dead, they become insomniac and paranoid—most of the time. With the help of their childhood best friends in solving and helping souls to fulfill their last wishes, will they finally felt at peace once more?

CYNO : a second year political science student, and one of your childhood best friend. He was probably the only one among your circle of friends that have shown a slightest bit of interest in the paranormal club. Perhaps its his way of allevating his past...guilt?

TIGHNARI : a second year botany student and the one of your childhood best friends along with Cyno. Although he always appears so exhausted and exasperated dealing with your bullshit, he will always be the first one who offers his help when you can't sleep. But why does he seem so adamant at keeping you away from the past?

ALBEDO : a second year majoring in chemistry with a minor in fine arts. Unlike Cyno and Tighnari who had been with you since you were in diapers, you met Albedo during your high school years. Quickly drawn to his calm and reliable persona, you've been friends since then, and was the person who you constantly ask for help in regards to academics. Though he seems to know a lot than he lets on...?

SCARAMOUCHE : A new friend added to your circle of friends and club—or rather, was forced to. He was a transfer student from another country, a second year student majoring in business management. Mysterious and rude to a degree, that didn't stop you from recruiting him into your club! But would it be really that easy in dealing with him? Especially when he was hiding a deep, dark secret?

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

This is my first smau and I'm very excited to share this will you all!! ^^ since I've posted this on my birthday, consider this a gift from me and my thank you for the 500 followers we have ueueue. This, along with the Fallacies of Love series, will have sporadic update Aas usual though I swear to my love albedo that I will update this soon!

Also, if you wanted to be added to the taglist, feel free to dm or send me an ask! Thank you for reading and have a nice day!! (I will edit this later hahaha).

the fall

a quick one-shot I wrote after playing the new archon quest, about the only thing that kinda bothered me. so this isn’t particularly well-written or anything, just a quick, self indulgent little thing.

spoilers for the archon quest (3.2) ahead.

Watching Scaramouche, the so-called “False God,” desperately reach out for the electro Gnosis, hearing him beg with that heartbreaking expression on his usually resentful, cold face… And seeing Nahida, the Traveler and Paimon completely ignore his pleas in favor of using the Gnosis to save Irminsul, it made something twist inside your chest.

Keep reading

scaramouche as your top artist !

soloist scaramouche x model g!n reader

synopsis: you modeled for scaramouche’s album cover, unaware the songs were written about you

warnings: dense reader, opposite of slow burn cus it’s a oneshot, wont do a part two so don’t ask 🙏 i’m sleep deprived will fix any typos later

masterlist

✰ you’d been a fan of scaramouche and his music for quite some time, following him since he debuted

✰ after getting a model contract you were even able to run into him a few times at networking events, exchanging pleasantries and curt nods

✰ eventually, your manager got into contact with his after scara garnered a liking for your portfolio

✰ his company was preparing beforehand for his album, asking if you’d be okay with taking a few promotional photos for careful consideration

✰ obviously, you accepted the offer. you were happy to even be considered as a potential album cover

✰ scara was with you during the entire process, directing the photoshoot and even spending time with you one on one. you didn’t realize he was so immersed in his work

✰ during preparation for his comeback you went on outings with him, getting to know him a little too well. was he like this with all his workers?

✰ you tried to not think too much into it, knowing you had absolutely no chance with your idol, let alone an international star

✰ you thought that after getting picked to be his album cover a few weeks later that your friendship with scaramouche would come to an end

✰ but, surprisingly, he commented on your posts and went out of his way to find you at events

✰ you couldn’t help but catch feelings for him

(yeah ik the album cover is basic but i don’t wanna show a face to keep it g!n !! sorry if it isn’t your body type </3 and y/n pfp is a zoom in of a model holding a book)

✰ eventually, his album released and it was all everyone could talk about. it was the only thing you listened to for hours on end. his voice haunted you everywhere you went

✰ apparently during the course of the album he had scrapped multiple songs, rewriting them after getting to know you

✰ you stayed in contact with him throughout the year, cheering him on during events and calling him to let him know your thoughts on his music

✰ eventually, spotify wrapped rolled around and called you out

✰ you didn’t expect him to actually be serious and were pleasantly surprised when he actually picked up

✰ “did you actually enjoy my music?”

✰ “obviously, but looking at myself was a good bonus.”

✰ “yeah? what about the lyrics. they were clearly about you.”

✰ “what.”

✰ “why else would i make them choose you as the album cover in the end?”

✰ “because i’m hot?”

✰ “i’m not going to deny that, but it’s because you’re fucking dense and kept assuming everytime that i asked you out on a date it was a hangout.”

✰ “to be honest i assumed they were business meetings.”

✰ “WHY THE FUCK WOULD I RENT OUT AN ARCADE AND DINER FOR A BUSINESS MEETING?”

✰ “I DIDN’T WANT TO QUESTION YOUR METHODS!”

✰ “…”

✰ after that embarrassing phone call, with his voice low in your ear, you both went out on an actual date. one where you actually knew it was a date and acknowledge his feelings…

✰ he takes you to the beach, the same one where you did the photoshoot for his comeback. you both have to wear masks and hats to stay discreet but it’s fun nevertheless

✰ he admits he had to postpone the album after getting inspiration from his feelings for you, grumbling as you tease him for it

✰ you react to the songs once more with him, now understanding the depth of the lyrics

✰ scara eventually grows sick of your incessant teasing and picks you up, threatening to drop you into the ocean as you screamed playfully for him to stop

✰ it takes a few weeks of sneaking around and dating before you eventually release photos and make it official ^-^

lyrics are from i wanna be yours, which is such a sexy song btw and mv thumbnail is my bf taehyung

author’s notes: i haven’t done a oneshot in a while and ik this is fast paced but i wasn’t about to bust out another smau 😭 spotify wrapped gave me brainrot about soloist scara !! i forgot who suggested model yn but shoutout to that anon 🫵

Hello! may i request shy s/o asks for hugs fluff hc's for Xiao and Albedo. If you comfortable writing this. And happy new year! And a beatifull day! Btw i'm so sorry for my bad english:")

with gender-neutral, shy reader.

genre: fluff

a/n: ooc sort of

© all rights reserved to keiffeine. reposting, plagiarizing, modifying, and translating is NOT allowed.

xiao

• xiao is definitely just as shy as you are when it comes to being forward about things, especially in terms of affection.

• it’s really so painful—it’ll probably take several minutes to get something even as simple as a peck on the cheek.

• so when you gently tap his shoulder and ask if he can give you a hug in the quietest voice, he short circuits a little bit because. 1) you are so cute and 2) why do his arms suddenly feel so stiff and 3) he’s blushing what the hell.

• “i—uh,” he stutters, averts his gaze for a moment, then turns back to you, “yeah, of course.” and then he lets you into his arms, holding you close and relishing in your warmth.

albedo

• “yes, my love?” albedo says, glancing up from his sketch pad to look at you. your demeanor was slightly off—you were playing with the hem of your shirt and kept your eyes away.

• you said something, but it was incoherent. albedo furrowed his eyebrows, assuming there was something wrong.

• “are you okay?” he asks, stepping forward and pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. “your face is hot. are you sick? maybe i can take you to barbara and—”

• “i’m not sick,” you tell him, “i’m just…tooshytoaskyouforahug,” you say, very quickly.

• you hear him chuckle, and you look at him, finally, and find him smiling.

• “you had me worried there for a second,” albedo murmurs, wrapping his arms around your waist and bringing you close to his chest.

genshin masterlist

navigation

between you, me, and these bookshelves

synopsis: just the little things that happen in a little bookstore.

— featuring: albedo, ayato, childe, scaramouche x gn!reader (separate)

— cw: modern au, swearing, yn is an avid reader, use of childe's real name, none of the books i mention here are real lol

— author's notes: first headcanon post with multiple characters~ very self indulgent so hope you guys enjoy <3

Working at a bookstore isn't the most glamorous job in the world.

The pay is good for the amount of work you need to do, and most days nothing much happens.

But sometimes, there are just some events that happen between the bookstore's mahogany shelves that make your days just a bit more colorful.

Albedo

The bookstore has a chalkboard stand outside that details new releases, promotions, or events that the store has. Displayed on it are elaborate illustrations or hand-lettering, all of it done by the same person.

And he comes by every other weekend to re-do its contents.

You sometimes watch him as he draws, his nimble hands becoming dusted with colored chalk as he sketches on the blackboard, his light blond hair tied back as he furrows his brow, deep in concentration.

He’s caught you staring a handful of times, to which you turn away in hopes that he doesn’t bring it up. Thankfully he never does.

This week you watch as he colors in his artwork, a dragon and a young man with wings at the center soaring over rolling plains and sharp cliffs.

As the boy gets started with the lettering, you ask him a question.

“Do you really just come up with all this on the spot?”

The boy looks at you with curiosity in his eyes, “So you do talk. And here I was wondering if you just didn’t like talking to me.”

“Well, I don’t exactly know what we can really talk about. You’re a freelancer right?”

He smiles as he returns his attention back to his illustration, “You can say that. Well to answer your first question, I usually have a final outcome in mind before I start sketching. Your boss sends me a gist of what he wants and I draw it. Simple as that.”

You converse with him until he finishes, sprinkling in some questions about his work in between. As he packs up to leave, you ask him one last question.

“I never got your name, chalk boy.”

A silent question, but one that he still understands.

“It’s Albedo.”

The two of you end up striking up an easy conversation every time he visits, with you always watching him draw

If you express interest in his other works, he’ll let you browse his sketchbook 

One day while flipping through his drawings, you begin to see some familiar sights: a vending machine outside a nearby convenience store, a food stall, and the outside of the bookstore. Some pages have small doodles in pencil and ink, and some in color. Others have full illustrations.

The next page that you flip to, though, nearly takes your breath away. 

You find a colorful illustration of the bookstore, a blend of paint and ink. Sunlight streams through the glass walls and envelops the scene in a warm light. Boxes lay strewn on the floor, all of them brimming with books. And among the boxes stands you, a stack of books in hand as a small smile graces your face.

You look up when Albedo spots the page you’re on, “Ah, I hope you don’t mind that I sketched you a handful of times. I tend to draw what I find interesting.

“So is it alright if… I sketched you more often?”

Scaramouche

Scaramouche pisses you off most days.

He distracts you while you try to do your work, he steals the pen by the cash register whenever you need to use it, and worst of all, he always makes fun of whatever book you read.

No matter what genre it is, mystery, fantasy, or heaven forbid, romance, he'll always find something to tease you about.

But it’s odd. For someone who claims to hate every novel that you've taken interest in, you find yourself discussing with him each and every book you’ve read.

“Sure, Forest of Lies had a strong opening,” he starts, leaning back on his chair, “But did the princess seriously need to go through those arbitrary trials just to prove that she was determined to save her kingdom?”

“Fine, I thought it was stupid too,” you say, “But you have to admit, the characters are actually well-written and have interesting subplots. The knight having a backstory connected to the princess’ was a good twist.”

“But does anything really come from that twist? Or was it just there for shock value? When you get to the part where–”

You let out an exaggerated gasp, “Spoilers! I just got past the twist, asshole.”

“You should read faster then!” he says, going into the storage room to fetch some supplies, “Whatever, we’ll continue this when you finish the damn book.”

You’re about to continue reading when Scaramouche pops his head out and adds, “The next two novels in the series go downhill in quality from there. Trust me.”

“But this is a trilogy??”

“That’s the point!”

You realize that he had a point when you finally got to the second book.

Around halfway through reading the book, you catch him reading over your shoulder. You turn to look at him and he simply gives you a smug smile. You simply rolled your eyes and continued reading.

A couple of days go by after you finish the second book when he approaches you.

“What’s the occasion?” you say as Scaramouche hands you a book, a pen, a highlighter, and some book tabs.

It’s a novel on your wishlist, you notice; one that you had mentioned to him in passing. Small colored tabs stick out from the side of the book. Thumbing through the first few pages, you see that he underlined some passages, his neat writing occupying the margins, the blue highlighter bringing your attention to a handful of quotes. Just from reading the first sentence as well as Scaramouche’s comments, you could tell that you were going to enjoy reading this.

But you recall a casual remark he during one of your past conversations — he doesn’t typically annotate his books. Did he do this for you?

“Nothing. Just thought you should read a good book for once,” he answers, not quite looking at you.

“Excuse you, I read good books sometimes.”

“The last book you read, you kept ranting about how the writing wouldn’t just ‘let the characters fucking talk’. Your words, not mine.”

“And the last book you read, you literally couldn’t finish because you kept getting fed up with the protagonist doing nothing.”

He groans, “Are you gonna accept my gift or not?”

You give him an unimpressed look, setting the book and stationery aside, “This novel better be as good as you say it is.”

He was right. The book was actually good. You even ended up adding your own annotations alongside his — like having your own conversation amidst the pages of the book.

His comments, whether they be snarky, insightful, or analytical, definitely enhanced the experience. And thanks to that, you end up finishing the book in just two days.

Another one of your story discussions happens and, amidst the bickering, a book he mentions piques your interest.

After making fun of the ever-growing list of books he wants to read, to which he retorts by saying you’re not better off, an idea pops into your head and you search for the novel he’s looking for.

It’s in a genre you wouldn’t typically go reaching for, but this is the least you could do for him, right?

You spend the next week reading and annotating the book, using the highlighter and tabs Scaramouche had given you to highlight passages and give your comments.

The shocked look on his face when you gave him the copy of the book was definitely worth it.

“Just thought you should read a good book for once,” you say, sliding the book toward him.

“Huh. Don’t you hate this genre?”

“Surprisingly enough I actually liked the story; you have decent recommendations when you’re not being such a dick. So, are you gonna accept my gift or not?”

He rolls his eyes, snatching the book from the table, and mumbling a quiet ‘thanks’. 

You pretend not to see the blush that reaches his ears.

Ayato

It starts off as most days do, with a delivery of new books.

You open the box to find the newest releases as well as some bestsellers. One of the covers catches your eye, the title Child of the Roses emblazoned in front of an illustration of two women laying in a field of red roses — one of the books you’ve always wanted to get your hands on ever since the author announced the plot.

Sure you could purchase the book right now, but your budget for the month didn’t have a lot of wiggle room. And if you did wait until next month, you couldn’t exactly guarantee the availability of the book since it always manages to sell fast.

While you’re restocking the shelves, the door to the store opens, and in come a man and woman with pale blue hair. 

The girl starts looking around while the man walks up to you.

“Does your store happen to sell the book Traingazing?” the man asks. There’s an elegance in the way he carries himself — well-dressed, handsome, and dignified in the way he speaks, “It’s alright if you don’t.” 

You confirm its availability and lead him to the nearby shelves, “You lucked out today, sir. This is our last copy.”

He laughs. Fuck, even his laugh sounds expensive, “Lucky indeed. My sister and I have gone to five stores today just looking for it.”

The girl, his sister, you presume, comes up to you two with a small stack of books in hand, “Did you find it?”

The man holds up the book, its silver-edged pages gleaming in the fluorescent lights of the store, “Got their last copy, too.”

She sighs in relief, “Good. You can finally stop nagging me about you never being able to grab a copy before they sell out.”

“Says the one who dragged me to eight stores looking for a book you ended up hating.”

The siblings leave shortly after purchasing their books. 

The rest of the day passes by as normal. Rush hour usually comes around early afternoon to late evening, when students get out of school and people usually get off work. 

Unfortunately, your shift just about lines up with the store’s more chaotic hours.

You spot a familiar blue-haired man again later that evening while you’re in the middle of helping another customer. He’s browsing the shelves when he spots you.

“Can you help me with something? I’m looking for a gift for my sister.”

“Oh, the girl you were with this afternoon, right? What kind of books does she like?”

He describes the types of books she favors along with a handful of her favorite authors. You lead him to some nearby shelves, picking out some books and giving him a brief synopsis of each one. He listens intently to each of your suggestions, his lilac eyes focused on you.

As you’re finishing up, he spots a book behind you and grabs it from the shelf. You spot the familiar title, Child of the Roses. As usual, whenever you restock it, it’s the last one in stock. “You thinking of buying that one? It’s our last copy.”

The man reads the synopsis as you summarize the plot, “Seems like quite the interesting book if it got you so excited.”

You laugh at his remark, “Well, I’ve been wanting to read that book for a while now, but I never manage to get a copy before they sell out.”

He considers the book before saying, “Is that so?”

Your co-worker calls for you before you can respond, saying that they need help with manning the cash register.

After almost an hour of helping with scanning barcodes and packing books, the blue-haired man stands in front of the counter.

He holds up Child of the Roses, “If it’s alright, I’d like to make this a separate purchase.”

Figures he’d buy the book if the reviews and your excited ramblings are anything to go off of. While you were sad that the chance to purchase the novel had once again slipped away, at least you could be reassured that it would be in good hands.

After giving him the book and the receipt, he simply hands them both back to you, “You were quite passionate when you described the book to me. I thought I should buy it for you before someone else gets it.”

This has to be a dream, “Are you sure you want to give this to me? I mean don’t get me wrong! I’m grateful, but don’t you want to read this, too?”

A smile graces his face, “Of course. You helped me find what I was looking for this afternoon, so this is the least I can do for you.”

When you finally get home and settle down for the evening, you open the book, intending to get through just one chapter.

That’s when you find a calling card in between the pages of the index and the first chapter, the name Kamisato Ayato in immaculate handwriting on one side along with his number.

On the back was a message: I’m actually currently reading Child of the Roses, so I have no need for another copy. But if you’d like, we could go out sometime and read it together. What do you say?

Childe

Most days there's not really much to do aside from the usual talking to customers, restocking the shelves, and helping close up shop. 

So sometimes you read just to pass the time. 

You’re just finishing up a chapter when the door to the store opens.

Ajax, you learn his name, is a massive flirt. Instead of talking to you like a normal person, he instantly says the cheesiest pickup line you’ve ever heard.

“I don’t need glasses,” he says, leaning on the counter, “ ‘cause I can clearly see that we were meant to be.”

It’s way too early for this shit, “... sir are you going to buy a book or not?”

He tips his head back and laughs, “C’mon! You have to admit that one was good.”

And he’s come by the store every so often ever since.

He’s quite the chatterbox too, talking about anything he can think of whenever you scan his items at the counter.

You learn he’s an older brother when he asks you for book recommendations for his younger siblings. His attentiveness to his siblings’ taste in literature never fails to put a smile on your face.

You also learn that he’s very knowledgeable in literature.

He comments on one of the books you’re reading during one of his visits, talking about his favorite scenes as well as discussing the characters with you.

A week of nearly daily visits turns into a month, with you getting used to his corny pick-up lines and little conversations.

But then it suddenly stops. A week passes without Ajax’s visits.

You don’t think too much of it until that one week turned into three. 

He was under no obligation to come back every day, of course. He was a customer, at the end of the day, and there was never any guarantee that he wouldn’t suddenly stop visiting the bookstore nearly every day.

But you couldn’t help feeling dejected at the thought of just never seeing him again.

Then, on one unassuming Monday afternoon, a familiar face returns to the store.

“Hope you didn’t miss me too much,” Ajax winks at you, “Mind if you help me look for a book?”

You smile, doing your best to hide your surprise, “Good to see you’re still doing well.”

He gives a vague description of what he’s looking for: a sci-fi series that’s appropriate for his little brother Teucer, the third book to a series his sister Tonia is currently reading, and “whatever you think is good” for him.

Walking over to the shelves, you could feel his eyes on you as you started picking out the books for his siblings. A soft smile is on his face when you turn to face him, becoming wider when your eyes meet his.

“You were gone for a while,” you say, unsure of how to continue. His life is none of your business and like hell were you going to admit that you missed him.

He sighs, “Yeah. Work has been a lot these past few weeks, but now that it’s loosened up I can finally start seeing my favorite person more often.”

“Your favorite person huh?”

“Getting the chance to talk to you is the highlight of my visits. Of course you’d be my favorite person.”

He leans in close to you, “Y’know, I just realized that I’ve lost my number. So can I have yours?”

You roll your eyes, still smiling, “You could have just asked for my number like a normal person.”

Ajax laughs, and you find yourself wishing you could listen to it every day.

Traveler puts Scaramouche in the teapot with Raiden and Nahida as company.

3.2 had yet to drop at this time so these are just some of my hopes for Scaramouche's story <3

❝cupid❞

៚ xiao, scaramouche, albedo

ᝰ genshin chars with an innocent reader + kind of school au?

꒦꒷ its 7am here and i am dying also suggestive at albedos part!!

xiao with an innocent kouhai, a sweet student who's oh so reckless, he needs to look after you at all times!! what do you mean you don't want him being so protective? theres so many creeps out there, the only one that could save you is him!!

"it's better if you leave now." xiao barked at the students cornering you, glaring at them with the same look he gives everyone.

well, except you.

when there was no one around, he squated next to you and whispered into your ear—

"tsk, i've told you before and this happened because you were so careless." his voice was husky and wasn't like the caring voice he used when he talked to you.

"i-i know.. i'm sorry, xiao." you sobbed as fat tears welled up in your eyes.

he rubs your arm in a comforting way, you don't even notice the way his pants tighten from watching you cry on your knees </33

he's the sweetest senior<3 you should listen to him at all times or there will be consequences.

scaramouche with an innocent kouhai, so dumb and too naive. if you don't obey him, he'll just have to leave you to deal with his gang. with the way the ginger and the masked freak stares you down like you're a prey, you don't have much of a choice anyways TT

"you're so annoying. always follwing me around like a lost puppy." his words were full of venom but the glint in his eyes says otherwise.

"fine then! i'll just go." you let out a hmph!! and walked towards the door until the door swung open, revealing two tall figures.

oh no.

you vividly remembered their names— was it... Dottore and Tartaglia?

you saw the way they would look at you when you dragged scaramouche away from them. the way they looked at you like a small bunny that they wanted to capture and keep forever ⊙﹏⊙

a squeak escaped your throat as you ran behind scaramouche, holding his waist tightly.

maybe inviting them wasn't a bad idea, scaramouche thought.

albedo with an innocent kouhai who's so kind and generous, always willing to help him with his dangerous experiments, you're the bravest!! so admirable he'll say. and with so much praise, it raises your ego a bit too much.

usually his experiments on you made you a little dizzy or numb on certain parts on your body.

but today was different.

your tummy felt so weird and your legs were shaking!! afraid of anything bad happening you told albedo—

"bedo... feel so strange..." you bat your eyelashes at him and he let out a small chuckle.

"no no, baby. it's okay. you're being so good for me you know.."

baby? you're being good?

with  that, you held your breath and laid back as he continued examining your body reacting to the strange liquid he gave you.

"what do you feel... here." you suddenly felt his fingers press on your inner thigh, a little too close to your sensitive flower<333

"d-dont!!" unfortunately, your whines only encouraged him to go further.

#-reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

reminiscence.

fem! reader, scara and nahida would act like siblings change my mind, includes sumeru archon quest spoilers!

“would you mind telling me more about [name]?”

scaramouche had to make sure he was hearing things correctly.

“excuse me?”

“[name]. i want to know more about her.”

the tiny god of wisdom gently rocks back and forth on her makeshift swing created by her control over dendro—watching over the city of sumeru with soft eyes whilst the former harbinger stares daggers onto her back of her head.

a sigh escapes the man's lips from behind her, a telltale sign of his incoming exasperation, “you read my mind without my permission again? i remember clearly telling you to cut it out, didn't i?” his annoyance doesn't come unnoticed by the observant child.

“it was quite improper of me to do so, but i'm the god of wisdom. i actively seek out knowledge, and such—i couldn't resist the temptation of peering onto a mind as eccentric as yours.” her tone remains understanding of his irritation, yet all the more wise in explaining her unwarranted prying.

the dark-haired male behind her hums, leaning back onto the tree as he shuts his eyes closed, seemingly given up on voicing his displeasure towards the archon.

“tell me what you know so i'll know where to start.”

his immediate compliance makes the curious child turn her head his way, staring at him with wide eyes.

“you...” nahida trails off as she smiles in relief, quickly reminding herself to not comment on his chosen act of opening up as he might get impatient and dismiss the subject altogether.

the distant chatter of her people down at the city successfully averts her attention from him, her eyes now gazing down at a certain blonde traveller stopping by to buy some supplies for their next adventure.

“you were dreaming of her during your slumber. she's...the fourth betrayal you encountered, correct?” nahida knows that you were anything but a betrayal, but she has to bend her words to his whims for now as to avoid a temper tantrum.

scaramouche hums in response.

“out of all the companions you've trusted, you seemed to cling onto your memories of her the most. why is that?”

“if you've read my mind, then i'm sure you already know why.”

“you're not gonna deny it?” the lesser lord cranes her neck to look at him over her shoulder, brows raised questioningly at his statement. “that you were in love, romantically?” she had carefully formed the question to give him the freedom of denying it just in case he wasn't ready to face his past just yet, but this situation was clearly something she didn't expect.

the male remains resting against the tree behind him, uncaring of the child's rather surprised gaze as his eyes stay shut. “if there's one thing you taught me while being under your care, it has to be acceptance.” he feels his anemo vision thrum to life by his chest, but he pays no mind to it as he continues, “i have nothing to lose now, so I might as well stop lying to myself to give my existence some type of meaning.”

nahida can't help the softening of her eyes towards the male, her smile widening by a fraction before she returns her gaze towards the city below her. if anything, that's probably his way of thanking her. it's a pretty roundabout way considering the better alternatives, but it managed to get the message across, didn't it?

she sighs in content, “that's essentially all I know about her. once again, would you mind telling me how she was like?”

you would probably pass out if you found out that the god of wisdom wishes to know more about you.

the ends of his lips twitch upwards for a moment as he thinks back on the memories he held dearly of you;

ranging from the embarrassing and funny moments you two shared like that one time you accidentally mistook him as a girl due to how graceful and fair his skin and face was, or up to the more intimate moments—like watching the narukami festival unfold along with its blooming fireworks from the mountain peaks of tatarasuna...

...and that one time he finally let your desires free and bared himself for you to touch—his first time.

he feels his cheeks burn at the thought, crossing his arms with a huff as if to breathe out the sinful thoughts.

now that he was free from the shackles of burdens and hatred, everything he experienced with you no longer seemed to be as bitter and disgusting to recall—unlike the times before where he'd have occasional dreams of you back in the fatui, the pettiness in his nerves as he calls it a nightmare that reminds him of how naïve and weak he was back then.

he returns to the matter at hand with a new sense of clarity—now what was he supposed to say again?

right. he was supposed to tell nahida about you.

he can't believe he's still blushing over you after all these centuries.

lifting his eyelids, the first thing he catches in his eyesight was nahida's knowing smile—directed right at him as she stays still on her swing.

why is she—?

oh.

making haste with his movements, he quickly lifts his hand to pull down his hat over his face, only to discover he wasn't wearing his hat at the moment—so pathetically enough, he opts to cover his face with a hand, shyly hiding his face from the grinning archon as he looks away with reddened cheeks and ears.

he got too carried away while reminiscing, it seems.

“i see...so you're still very much in love with her, hm?” nahida speaks up with a teasing tilt to her voice, relishing in this rare moment of the male's lowered guard, “not like i blame you. she was really pretty in your dreams, and probably even prettier in person.”

“shut up. do you want me to continue or not?”

with a quick apology amidst her fit of giggles, she nods, looking away once again from the eccentric wanderer to give him the privacy he deserves.

“sorry, sorry. now you may start.”

her curiousity is piqued. just how much of an impact did you make to cause the male to make such interesting reactions?

she's about to find out now, it seems.

might make part two idk

hellooo!! could i request like a scara x gn reader, but reader is sick and scaramouche is taking care of them? Like scara is mean at first but when he realise how sick reader is he warms up and becomes very nice with a bit of fluff c: tysm!

this was so cute how scara goes from being so mean to sweet ik he actually cares abt ppl but loves to hide it,, i took a little bit of a diff approach with this bc i tried so many ideas before that didn't work so instead of the reader just being sick they're kinda freezing too lol but i hope u like it in the end, thank u sm for requesting this! if this wasn't to your liking you can always request again!

what happens...

synopsis: you and your boss scara get trapped in a snow storm and he helps you while you're really cold and sick

warnings: scara is degrading, you almost get hypothermia

characters: scaramouche (the balladeer) x reader

notes: i rewrote this like five times. dont talk to me.

•┈୨♡୧┈•

harsh winds singing a desperate chorus as it whirled around you, it claimed all the land in white. bounding everyone to their homes, unlucky for you, you were caught out in the storm. in other circumstances, this sight would have been beautiful to you as all of snezhnaya was, if only you weren't walking in the middle of it. you'd say you were happy when a small wooden hut appeared, it didn't look warm from the outside but it was shelter, except you had to go in with your boss.

scaramouche slammed the wooden door to the hut, blocking most of the blundering storm outside. the cabin was rotten down, boards coroading away, who ever lived here hadn't been around in probabaly years. it was stopping most of the wind, but the freezing tempature was still seeping in. he grimmaced at the situation, he'd been seperated from the rest of the fatui agents while out carrying a mission for the tsaritsa, simply on their way to catch debt from clients. this was only a minor setback, but a damn awful one. who knows how long he'd be stuck here. especially stuck with you.

you were in a corner of the house, curled into yourself to retain warmth. your thick black coat was keeping some sort of coziness but you were only human and some cloth could only do so much. damn your immune system, you'd only been curled up in here for a couple of minutes and were already sneezing uncontrollably, nose tingling and your skin in a bitter pain because of the frost. "look at you cowering away." your boss crossed his arms, glaring down at you. "we're stuck in this snow storm because of you giving us the wrong direactions. who even allowed you to join the fatui? you're obviously unfit to serve the tsarista." you who fed at his frigid words. "i bet it was that bobbleheaded childe, huh? pathetic." you knew never to show weakness infront of him, the balladeer was known to be so cruel to those who showed fear. yet in this snow storm, you couldn't care to even respond to him or say sorry about your incompetence. you swore if you stayed like this, you'd freeze over into a popsicle.

"…i'm so damn cold." you mumbled. scara pondered you with a scouring look. "oh, you're cold? well you're in snezhnaya its going to be a little chilly" his stupid sarcasm was not what you needed. you hands sting through your gloves, throat itchy and eyes watering. you tried to fight back the tears, you could not cry in front of him no matter how sick and cold you were. his eyes widened watching you shudder in the corner. he shuffled around a bit, looking to you and fro, cheeks a little flush. he hadn't expect you to seriously cry. he sighed, watching his breath swirl the air then trugded over to you.

with his hand nearing your face, you flinched at it thinking he was going to reprimand you for being so weak. yet he simply was pressing the back of his hand to your forehead, you were icy to the touch, eyes puffy and red. a tear rolled down your cheek as you sniffled, he took his thumb and wiped it away with a pout on his lip. "don't cry..." he mumbled. you weren't really sad just your body reacting to the uncomfortable reality you were in. "let me see your hand…" you lifted you arm to him and he pulled one of your gloves off, revealing your discolored fingers, a sign of hyperthermia.

the balladeer was no mother goose, he had no nurturing bone in his body. if he wanted to, he'd leave you here to freeze and would carry out the rest of his mission without batting an eye. instead, he gloved your hand again and held them between his. it wouldn't do him any good to let you die, he supposed. he couldn't warm you up much himself considering his...condition, he knew you were going to catch an even worse cold if he didn't do anything. so, he did the unthinkable. he sat against the wall, pulling you towards him by the waist, you were between his legs, and he curled you into his chest. it wasn't a lot of warmth, but it was enough. it was reassuring that you would be okay, you're allergies were getting to you but atleast you weren't alone in this storm.

in other circumstances, being coddled in your boss' arms would make you vomit at the thought but he was suprsingly cozy. "…tell anyone about this and i'll let you freeze in the lake." scaramouche pulled you tighter to his chest trying to get you warmer. "i'm only doing this because if you die i wont hear the end of it." "…of course, balladeer." you held back a little giggle. "i wouldn't dream of it"

maybe the balladeer was more than he seemed. maybe he cared underneath his empty heartless shell. don't tell anyone though, what happens at the hut, stays at the hut.

•┈୨♡୧┈•

dw when you guys got somewhere safe he made you tea as long as u didn't tell anyone what happened at the hut (esp childe)