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whoistartaglia · 28 days

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love letters

how genshin men write you love letters

a/n: i’m alive!

neuvillette’s love letter is meticulously written and the closest thing to perfection found in this corporal realm. his calligraphy is neat as are his words; he spends little time with the flowery words and sweet nothings, and gets immediately to the point: confessing his love to you. he’s hinted at it, and you’ve reciprocated back, and neuvillette wanted to cement his confession with ink and paper. the only crinkle of imperfection that mares the otherwise unworldly beautiful letter is a touch of shakiness to the last sentence, the only question in the entire letter. asking you if you might feel the same.

childe’s love letter had to be written several times, and even the final version has some crossed out words, and arrows leading across the page, pointing to where he picked back up. the words themselves are sweet if not a little chaotically inclined (as is he; his nature showing right through the words on the parchment). it’s not so much as a confession than simply proclaiming his love for you, given to when you’re already in a relationship. (if you should ask why there are so many mistakes, he’ll tell you the truth: putting his love for you in mere words is a difficult feat.)

scaramouche’s love letter is a mess of words and a rage of emotions. it was never meant to be send to you, and he only showed you late in your relationship, when he felt comfortable enough to let you in. he started it as a way to express his emotions and their twisting and churning, whenever it came to you. scaramouche couldn’t understand them at first, and to an extent, he still is unable to fully quantify the emotions he feels towards you. but the words on the page, the half sentences and fragmented clauses, paint enough of a picture, and the love he shows you already is enough to fill in the gaps.

diluc’s love letter is impossible for him to write. it’s awful, it’s terrible, and every word is wrong—not that there are many words to begin with. diluc never thought himself to be an overthinker, but writing this love letter is proving that original notion wrong. every sentence he crafts in his mind sounds wrong when said aloud and he has worries they will look even worse on paper. so he leaves the few sentences he has alone, few soldiers on the battlefield, and decides to give you the letter anyways, hoping that you’ll still reciprocate what’s on the page, even if it isn’t much, even if he wants to tell you much more, but for some reason, cannot.

zhongli’s love letter is painfully gorgeous, even if the words sting and feel like a thorn to the heart. how he can turn a breakup letter into something so beautiful sounding is beyond you; you wish he would just get the point, that it’s not working out, that it’s over, without all the purple prose. reading it over and over again, you get the feeling that he was delaying telling you, even through writing. that he didn’t want to tell you it’s over using plain, cold words, but wanted to tell you with words that exude the last rays of sunshine and a breeze before dark. (it hurts all the same. more, even.)

alhaitham’s love letter was as unexpected for you recieve as it was for him to write, because you thought being with him was an impossibility, a maybe of the past that never came true. but then he handed it to you before he left, giving to you words he could never quite that time ago and still can’t quite bring himself to say now. but the letter, carefully crafted and laced with vulnerability and a tenderness only ever glimpsed from him once or twice, express what he cannot. what you do now with this newfound information is up to you: take a chance on something you thought died, or leave it alone, maybe without hope of a reprisal this time.

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whoistartaglia · 3 months

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doing your boyfriend’s makeup

scaramouche/wanderer x reader

cw: very mildly suggestive at the end

“stop squirming.”

“i’m not—“

“stop talking!” you admonish, your shaky hand narrowly missing scaramouche’s eyelashes. he glares up at you through those very thick and unfairly long eyelashes. even without the mascara, scaramouche has the most gorgeous eyelashes you’ve ever seen. it’s unfair, really. you’re convinced that you could put on the entire tube’s contents of mascara on your own lashes and they would still have half as long as his.

with a huff and a pout, scaramouche closes his eyes once more. you continue to reapply the mascara in long, even strokes, hesitating ever so slightly when his flutter in a way that suggests scaramouche is seconds away from sleep—and that he might very well be. the tension of you nested on his lap and touching his face with gentle, wispy touches faded away to reveal the peace and tranquillity of the scene. it’s late into the evening hours, but the atmosphere suggests a gentle breeze, a warm summer afternoon, a harp playing somewhere in the background.

scaramouche is transported back to the bedroom, the fairy lights, and shuffled playlist playing from your small speaker, when you pause and he takes it upon him to open his eyes. you don’t reprimand him this time, instead taking a moment to study his face: the curve of his lips, the angle of his cheekbones, those eyelashes and dangerously gorgeous violet eyes underneath them.

“you’re so beautiful,” you whisper as scaramouche’s eyes flicker up to yours. “even without the makeup.”

scaramouche tilts his head as he studies your face in return. “i should be telling you that.”

there’s a smoke, a fog, a haze in the room with how you’re both lost in each other’s eyes.

“you do, though. every day.” you look down at the tube of mascara in your hands and set in on the vanity behind scaramouche. you look at yourself in the mirror before glancing at scaramouche’s reflection—even the back of his head, with it’s choppy haircut you requested a handful of times for him to let you straighten out, is beautiful.

“…do you really think so?”

you look back at scaramouche, surprised at the question. “of course i do.” you repeat yourself again for good measure. “you’re beautiful—even more than that.“

scaramouche is quiet for a second, contemplative, before a quiet, “thank you, [name].”

you know he’s thanking you for more than the compliment, more than the impromptu makeup session tonight, more than he might know himself.

“you’re welcome,” you return, meeting him in his cloudy, storm-filled eyes. your glance to your makeup bag and an idea like a bolt of lightning strikes you. “now, then. i just have one more thing. close your eyes again for me, okay?”

scaramouche does as he is told, fluttering his eyelids shut as you reach into your bag and pull out a bright red lipstick.

“you just need a little bit of chapstick.” you gently brush the “chapstick” on his pouted lips, even as he asks a, “and why did i need to close my eyes for this?” as you put it on.

you ignore the question and pose one of your own. “it’s all done! do you want to see what a lovely masterpiece your face has become?”

“do i want really to?” scaramouche asks, eyeing the open bottle of mascara and several q-tips and tissues you had to use for around the eye clean up.

“i’m going to say probably not, but you don’t have a choice.” you reach over and pickup a handheld mirror which you present infront of scaramouche. he studies his face, the long thick black eyelashes, the smuged eyeliner to bring out the lighter tones of lavender in his eyes, his lips colored—

“red.” scaramouche turns around to the vanity mirror, as if to double check that the firery red pigment on his lips is truly real. he meets your gaze in the mirror. “i didn’t know chapstick was red.”

“yeah, well… chapstick, lipstick, it’s all basically the same at the end of the day.” scaramouche sets the handheld mirror down and turns back to you, noting your oh-so innocent smile as you try to contain a laugh.

“you think you’re so funny,” scaramouche says, a new wicked gleam in his eyes.

“i’m familar with this shade because it’s always covering my lips, cheeks, and neck whenever you kiss me,” he whispers. you gulp nervously at his lascivious tone, and scaramouche is the one to smile. “consider this as payback.”

scaramouche leans in closer, and you don’t protest when his lips meet yours, staining them the same fiery red that you’re sure you’re going to be covered with by the time the sun is up tomorrow.

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whoistartaglia · 3 months

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can genshin men cook?

after a long day of work, what do you come home to: the aroma of dinner cooking in the oven or the smoke detector blaring and a kitchen on fire…?

diluc is so house husband that you would ideally come home to a warm meal set on the dining room table, except for the occasions when he overcooks the food. it’s not his fault, really. blame the pyro god who gave diluc his vision, that may or may not flare up when he’s trying to slowly roast some chicken and vegetables over an open flame. one second everything is fine, the next the chicken is blackened and some of the vegetables have been reduced to ash.

if childe is cooking you a family recipe or a traditional snezhayan dish, then you know you’re coming home to a delicious smelling kitchen and fresh flowers set on the table. childe considers it an act of appreciation and love, cooking his home favorites for you. he puts care in his cooking, and has practice from from feeding his younger siblings growing up. the dishes always turn out amazing and you’ll get him blushing from head to toe if you ask him to show you how to make it.

kaeya is more of a takeout kind of guy. that’s not to say he won’t cook for you if you ask—there are at least a handful of dishes and recipes he knows how to make, and pretty damn well, too. but if he’s also coming home from a long day at work, he’ll probably order something from a local tavern or restaurant, and bring it home. kaeya always remembers to order your favorite, and the takeout food is always set out on the table when you get home. and of course, he always takes care to order your favorite meal, which he knows like the back of his own hand.

xiao won’t burn down the kitchen, but he might get close. he doesn’t have a whole lot of mortal food he enjoys, and so doesn’t have much experience in cooking human food. xiao does try his best for you, though, because he wants you to come home to a nice dinner and relaxing evening. so if xiao happens to start a kitchen fire or set off the smoke alarms, he makes sure to handle it before you get home. you won’t even smell the remnants of the fire in the air, thanks to xiao’s anemo powers.

itto is also very house husband, but when it comes to other things, like building or renovating or practicing fighting moves in the backyard. while he can cook, it’s always a gamble whether you’re coming home to a kitchen half-burnt or an actual living fire. he swears he has it under control. he reassures you everything is fine, and to his credit, he does manage to put out the fire(s) and get something edible on the table. itto will also be very proud of his work, and you agree with his “raw, sheer talent” even as your fork is covered in ash and the burnt remains of some poor grocery store food.

ayato has personal chefs and the meals you come home to are always perfect. how could they not be, when crafted by the finest cooks in inazuma? if you actually request ayato himself to cook for you, he’ll do so happily. he’s a very meticulous, methodical cook—chopping vegetables precisely, using measuring cups and spoons for amounts people usually eyeball, and waiting until the stove or oven is at the perfect temperature before use. his meals turn out amazing—more than the private chefs, because this one is homecooked from the heart.

zhongli definitely has extensive knowledge of cooking and old recipes from liyue, and makes warm, delicious homecooked meals for you… but you still come home to a messy, smoking kitchen once in a while. you’re kind of relieved at that, since it shows that, for all his godly powers and extensive wisdom, zhongli still has his moments. so you laugh as you extinguish the fire even as zhongli is apologizing profusely. though if you suggest to go to your favorite restaurant, zhongli will refuse—he’s gonna start again from scratch, because a meal is what you requested of him, and a meal is what he will deliever.

wriothesley will set the kitchen on fire and say it’s on purpose—and most of the time, it is. his cool calculations melt away when he’s in the kitchen, as once pristine counters become rather messy, and the organized pantry and fridge, disorganized. wriothesley claims it’s because this is how he works best on the kitchen, and you suppose that’s true given his cooking style, which is picking out ingredients, throwing them together, and hoping for something tasty. it’s unfair, really, how good he is at cooking without trying. the kitchen is an embodiment of a hot mess.

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whoistartaglia · 4 months

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i miss you like it was the very first night!

how various genshin men fit into your party lifestyle and desperate need to have rebound after rebound, if only in vain to get over your ex-boyfriend.

—

“i never go alone, and i don’t seem broken hearted.”

kaeya is your first rebound after the breakup. he was single and available, and now apparently so were you. it was easy enough to get with him, go to parties together, show up as the hottest couple and leave estranged by the end of the night. because although you’re content with kaeya as a rebound boyfriend, he wants more. he had his eyes on you from the moment you met, and thought he would be okay with being the rebound, if only he could slowly create something more from it. he was okay with going to parties and only ever getting surface level deep with each other if he hoped that one day, you’d let him in and you’d both change for the better. but your heart’s not quite as healed as you want it to appear on the outside, and soon enough, kaeya realizes a rebound he is, and a rebound he ever would be. kaeya leaves you on the dance floor one night with nothing but a gentle frown and a disappointed gaze, softly kissing your cheek before he leaves. you don’t notice he’s truly gone until the next until the next day, when you call him up and find a dead end number and a blocked contact in his wake.

—

“my friends all say they know everything that i’m going through”

alhaitham is your friend to whom you tell everything—your recent breakup, the rebounds that aren’t working out, the latest party you’re planning on attending. he listens with open ears and gives his input every so often, but he’s finding it more difficult to do so as of late. all you seem to talk about is your ex-boyfriend or the guys you’re intent on going to that party you mentioned with. guys in plural, because although alhaitham recalls that one rebound not working out, you’ve seemingly got another one lined up and ready to go. alhaitham nods in understanding, you’re going through a lot right now, of course he understands. at least, that’s what he tells you. truthfully, he doesn’t understand why you do what you do, why you feel the need to go to all these parties with all these guys; that is, all these guys that aren’t him. can’t you see alhaitham, right here in front of you, is the perfect guy to be at your side after the breakup and then some? but no, you continue talking about the next guy you’re seeing, the next party to which you want to go, and alhaitham holds his tongue against his own will.

—

“i drive down different roads, but they all lead back to you”

xiao, your next rebound, isn’t much better. specifically because in this case, you actually had to be the one to chase after him. it took some push and pull to get xiao, who you always had in the back your mind, to agree to go out with you. and to a party, no less. you spent the week together doing couple stuff—the dinners out, the coffee dates, even visiting a few of your city’s local attractions—before the actual party. you thought that maybe, just maybe, this could work out, and you could move on from your next boyfriend. in xiao’s mind too was the sense of hope. hope that he made the right decision in deciding to commit to you and that you did finally move on. what he didn’t know is that you were using him to do that very thing. so the night of the party came around and you’re on the dance floor and everything is pretty tame, all things considered. until you had one too many drinks and starting speaking a man’s name that wasn’t xiao’s, and crying over that very man. xiao leaves you at your apartment, trying to ignore the rock in his stomach at the turn of events, and you talk to him again.

—

“they don’t know about the note on the polaroid picture”

lyney is your coworker who has watched everything—yes, everything—go down. he knows of your rebounds and your friend not-so subtly pining after you, about your incessant need to show the world you’re fine and still on top and going to parties and living the life after most painful, confusing, messy breakup of your life. he listens as you tell him about this fantastical life of yours and invite him to parties, before launching in yet another whimsical story. but he can see through the extravagance at the eyebags under your eyes, the frown that lines your face when you think no one is looking. he can read you like an open book, and when you’re gushing about another party you’d like you attend, he offers to go with you. you accept, hesitant at first, before excitedly discussing what to wear, if he wants to get dinner beforehand, to which he agrees. you invite him over for a quick dinner and he takes the time to admire your apartment—and a small polaroid picture tucked in the corner of a larger photo frame. he squints at the note, and reads it with a disappearing smile. when you tell him it’s ready, you find an empty living room, and the polaroid photo laying on the ground—you and your ex-boyfriend’s smiling face and love note promising forever written at the bottom looking back up at you.

—

“they don’t know how much i miss you!”

neuvillette thinks he can win your heart following your breakup. he’s the third rebound, third time’s the charm, and neuvillette seems like the ideal candidate. he’d be someone to ground you, and so far, he thinks everything is working out. you’re still going to parties, but a little less often now, and instead spending more time to get to know neuvillette as a potential boyfriend—a final match, after weeks of rebounds and parties and not quite knowing if you’d ever fall back in love again. you think he might be the one, until you stumble back home from a party with neuvillette, and come across the polaroid you never bothered to put back in its frame. you both stare at your old self and your ex-boyfriend, both so happy, and you wonder how it all went wrong. how you knew it was so right, with him. you think about how you don’t have any pictures with neuvillette—or any of your rebounds—and feel the knowing in your heart that it’s not right. when you tell neuvillette, he simply states that he underestimated how much you missed your ex, and you have the feeling you did the same.

—

“‘do you know how much i miss you?’”

you think you catch a glimpse of him at the party, the same party you always go to every weekend. you’re on the dance floor when you spot the familiar dark brown hair, almost black in hue. suddenly you’re stumbling towards it, tripping and pushing past other patrons, until you lose sight of it in the crowd. you’re standing there, feeling foolishing for chasing after a shadow, a trick of the eyes, and for the first time in a long, long time, you’re one of the few guests to leave first, leaving the dance floor and drink you just ordered and party atmosphere behind.

you leave from a side door and half run, half walk, and half stumble as you make your way home, ignoring the judgmental and curious looks and hostile glares you get from other party goers, just now showing up. you leave it all, the party and the fun and the lights behind, and all is left is your misery. for once, you’re allowing yourself to feel it, wallow it in, and it’s this sensation, so foreign to you, that has you bringing out your phone, and calling a number you haven’t talk to since the breakup.

your ex-boyfriend picks up on the third ring. you don’t let him say anything before you whisper, “do you know how much i miss you?”

your mind flashes back to the very first night you met him the silence that follows after. wriothesley didn’t go to a party every weekend, but when he did, he was the life of it. he was the guy everyone wanted to be with, so carefree yet so cool, so handsome yet so humble, in his own way. and then there was you, equally as absorbed in the party culture, a light of the party yourself as you mingled on the dance floor and at the bar, sang the loudest during your favorite song, and was always the last to leave, savoring the night for as long as you could. it was the love of the thrill that brought you both together, and you’ll never forget the very first night you met him—that party, your outfit and his, the whispers later that night-and thought that you were in love.

if you could grow wings and fly and take you and wriothesley back to that night, you would.

wriothesley is silent for a second more, and you wonder if he hung up, or if you should, before the reply.

“yes, i do,” he says, hesitantly, softly.

your next words aren’t as bold as your first, and they come out in a choking sob, “i wish we could go back—to the hotel, to the party—and i… i wish we could restart, or start again, or go back in time, or something. i miss you, do you know much? do you really?”

you hear the click and know wriothesley hung up. you pull your phone back as tears threaten to fall down your face and plummet to the ground.

all of that, for nothing at all. all of that, only to go through the cycle of rebounds again, and end up back here, calling the only man you’ve properly loved. a tear does fall, and nearly crumble with it.

“[name]?”

you look up, wipe your face, and turn around.

wriothesley stands behind you, phone in hand, illuminated by the streetlight, his face a mixture of confusion and concern and worry and endearment. he wears an outfit nicer than what he usually wears, and from his disheveled appearance, you wonder if you truly did see him at that party earlier tonight.

you smile, and so does he, and as wriothesley approaches, slight grin on his face—and there’s a new sense of mystery and hope in the air, just as there was on that very first night.

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whoistartaglia · 4 months

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delirious

does a confession count when it comes from someone delirious with fever?

alhaitham x reader

you’re clearly sick with fever, you know it, alhaitham knows it, and even your professor to whom you’ve never said a single word knows it. so why are you, wearing a black mask, coughing up a lung, and a second away from sleep, in lecture?

alhaitham has his own hypotheses to that particular question, but the fact remains is that there’s still about ten more minutes of lecture and he doesn’t know if you’re going to make it. not because of death—at least, he certainly hopes not—but because he meant it when he said you’re a whisp away from dreamland. one blink might send you head first into a fever dream, and you honestly think you might be in one when alhaitham silently packs his bag and silently moves through the lecture hall to sit next to you.

“what are you doing?” you whisper.

“taking you home.”

you cough before responding, and alhaitham cringes at the sound.

“home?”

“back to the dorm,” he clarifies.

you and alhaitham both live in the same dorm, though you only realized it when he came knocking on your door, with only the message of “you’re being too loud, i’m trying to study, please quiet down” when you opened it. your roommate was understandably annoyed by his obtrusiveness, and you were too, to an extent. until you told your roommate the very next day you thought he was cute and recognized him from lecture.

a lost cause, your roommate called you.

a lost cause was right.

“why?” you ask again through another cough.

alhaitham shrugs. “consider it me doing something nice.”

“but you’re not nice?”

alhaitham raises an eyebrow. your face is pale and laced with confusion, and if the statement didn’t come out as a sincere question, alhaitham would be much more offended. presently, he’s a little miffed—of course he’s nice, just when he wants to be, which may or may not be less than the average person—and has just realized something very interesting.

you don’t have much of a filter when sick with fever.

you’re also not very… present. he had to nudge you when the lecture ended and the professor started packing up. he had to subsequently coax you to pack up, because you told him you were so tired you could fall asleep right there and then.

“you can’t do that.”

“but why?”

“it’s too warm in here and lecture chairs are uncomfortable, and another class is coming in.”

“i don’t care,” you told him, a pout gracing your features.

“well, i do,” alhaitham says, standing. he looks down at you. “now, are you going to let me walk you back or are you doing to stay?”

“stay.”

so you have a streak of stubbornness when you’re sick, too. alhaitham rolls his eyes and starts packing your stuff himself, tossing in your laptop (which hasn’t been touched the entire lecture) and notebook (which also has remained unopened) and even takes your phone, plopping it in before zippering the bag shut, tossing it over his shoulder, and heading towards the exit.

it takes you a second in your hazed state to realize what happened before you pull yourself up and out of your seat and into the hallway. alhaitham’s nowhere to be found and you’re about to unleash a string of curses on his good name before you hear footsteps behind you.

“ready to go?”

you glare at him. “isn’t it a crime to mess with someone who’s sick?”

“a crime? no. morally wrong? maybe.” alhaitham shrugs, a slight smile tugging on his lips. “but that’s something for the philosophers to decide.”

you huff as you walk along side him, out of the lecture hall and onto the main campus. it’s a cold winter afternoon and you pull your sweatshirt around you tighter. maybe you wouldn’t have gotten sick if you didn’t insist on not wearing a winter coat when the temperature is near freezing. but then again, if you hadn’t gotten sick, then this serendipitous exchange might not have occurred.

as if reading your thoughts, alhaitham asks, “did your forget your jacket?”

“i didn’t wear one.”

“why not?”

“i am immune to the cold.”

“i assume that’s why your sick.”

“i’m not sick,” you tell him. a following series of coughs proves you wrong and has alhaitham raising his eyebrows. “okay, maybe i’m a little sick.”

“maybe just a little,” alhaitham agrees with you.

you spend the remainder of the short walk in silence, and it’s only when alhaitham leaves your side to open the door to your dorm that you realize you’re back. you think that, if this were any other time, you’d be thrilled and blushing that your crush walked you back to your dorm. he even insisted upon it. a part of you is, but it’s unfortunate you can’t outwardly show it—that is, you don’t really have the energy to.

you also can’t believe this is actually happening and real. your mind is currently afloat in a realm of feverish haze, a sign that you need a nap, but before you can unlock your dorm door, alhaitham pauses ourside of it.

he clears his throat and looks down at you staring up at him, like he’s a comet in the sky. “why did you come to lecture today? you’re clearly not feeling well.”

you stare at him through a sick-filled haze, like you might currently be lost in a fever dream you can’t quite wake up from. like you don’t know if it’s him asking or a fragment of your feverish imagination playing a trick on you.

“because i wanted to see you.”

the words, said so innocently, echo in alhaitham’s ears. you look as if you’ve either forgotten what you just said or unsure if you said anything at all. in the back of his mind, alhaitham wonders if him prying you for your feelings on him would also be a moral debate for the philosophers, but decides to press a little harder, dig a little deeper.

“why did you want to see me?”

“because…” you hesitate, tilt your head, consider the question. “because i like you?”

like the statement from earlier, it comes out as a question. as if it’s something obvious that you’re having a hard time believing alhaitham doesn’t know. as if it’s a simple truth, like the sky is blue, so simple it shouldn’t need explanation.

if you weren’t so sick right now, you might have blushed and looked down at your shoes before blinking up at him through your eyelashes and saying something coy. but like alhaitham realized earlier, you have little to no filter right now.

“i’m going to take a nap,” you tell him, before unlocking your door, waving goodbye, and shutting it firmly in his face.

alhaitham blinks, looks around for a second, then focused on your closed dorm door. he thought you might have liked him—especially when you started glancing at him more during lecture, and even asked to be his partner for a homework assignment. but could he really trust a confession from you in your addled state?

alhaitham shrugs and turns away from the door and walks down the hallway to his own room. when he enters, his roommate looks at him inquisitively, because alhaitham’s blushing, and alhaitham never blushes like this, but he brushes him off. alhaitham decides he’ll ask you again for confirmation when you’ve recovered, just to make sure.

but now he’s starting to feel sick, and wonders if he also might have a fever—from whatever sickness you have or a newfound lovesickness, he can only hypothesize. (it’s probably the latter.)

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whoistartaglia · 6 months

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how genshin men react when you fall asleep in lecture

childe will definitely laugh, and then freeze because it came out a little too loudly. you’re still fast asleep though, so he snaps a picture and lets you doze off as the teacher rambles. he thinks you’re cute like this, even if your face is slightly smushed into your notebook—and is that a hint of drool coming out of your mouth? definitely fuel for more teasing later. he will also make a couple jokes when you come to, and should you use his phone in the coming days, you’ll see he changed his background to your sleeping face (did he have to use the picture with drool though?)

zhongli will wake you up. he’s very gentle about it. will coo awake under his breath so the teacher doesn’t hear it, and should you whine that you’re so very tired, he’ll bribe you with promises there’s only thirty minutes left, you can both get food after this, or take a nap together. unfortunately for you, he’s persistent and won’t give up—and he doesn’t feel any shame either, that small smile of his not leaving his face, not even with you give him a pout. oh well. better luck next time.

alhaitham won’t notice that you’ve fallen asleep until at least ten minutes into your nap. he’s just so focused on whatever the lecturer is talking about that he doesn’t notice you’re sleeping form until you’ve slumped over onto his shoulder. he might shrug you off at first, but the effort is lacking and ultimately futile as you snuggle right back up next to him. he’ll let you stay, but just know he’s making a sacrifice, because there’s no way he’s gonna be able to pay attention to the rest of lecture when you’re looking so damn cute next him.

neuvillette won’t let you fall asleep. protest all you want, he’s not going to hear it. perceptive as he is, neuvillette will recognize the telltale signs of you about to fall asleep—the drooping eyelids, steadier breathing, head knocking forwards and back. he’ll nudge you when he feels you getting close to falling asleep, distract you with random questions about the lecture material or if he can borrow your pencils, stuff like that. sometimes it’s a surprise kiss on the cheek and then you’re wide awake. he’s a good-intentioned pain.

wriothesley props up a book in front of you and lets you sleep. you’re a good student, you’ve been working hard, you deserve this nap, even if it’s only five minutes into your hour long lecture. it’s sweet, he’s sweet, except that now he’s starting to feel sleepy. suddenly the teacher’s words are starting to fade into the background, he’s yawned several times in the past minute, and your so comfortable that he might just lean in…. you both wake up about an hour after the lecture with a “see me!” note from the teacher (totally worth it though).

wanderer flicks your forehead and tells you to stop sleeping, this is why you’re near failing the class. you stay awake mostly out of indignation after that one, but if you really can’t make it through lecture without a “quick” power nap, he’ll roll his eyes and fork over his sweatshirt as a pillow. he’ll take good notes for you while you’re in the realm of unconsciousness and wake you a couple minutes before class ends. his face is almost wide with admiration until he turns into a smirk, before he inquires how was your nap and if he should call you sleeping beauty.

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whoistartaglia · 6 months

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when wriothesley heard your scream from the other room, he rushed in, afraid something was wrong, that you were in trouble. but he finds no trouble except for you with your eyes tightly closed, blindly reaching for the keyboard and scrambling to type in a command. when you’re sure the game is paused you open your eyes to find wriothesley, confused and a little worried.

“video game,” you offer as an explanation.

“i see that.” he glances at the screen where the game’s menu takes center stage. he gestures to the computer, small smile on his face. “you screamed… because of a video game?”

“it was scary!” you protest. wriothesley’s smile widens and you continue, defensive now, “i would like to see you try.”

and that’s how wriothesley ended up in front of your computer, playing your horror game while you sit and watch the screen from the corner of the room. except that unlike you, wriothesley is unamused and not scared at all.

“really, [name]? this is it?”

“just wait,” you respond. it’s only been five minutes.

wriothesley glances over his shoulder with a judgemental look, questioning how you were screaming at the computer before he started on, but then the screen goes black. he turns and thinks something’s wrong, and doesn’t see as you quickly draw your hands up, anticipating what’s next to come. wriothesley squints at the screen, gets closer, and tries to figure out what’s wrong.

your fingers are tightly covering your eyes when the jumpscare sounds. you couldn’t cover your ears as well so the sound permeates into your brain, scarring it for the second time tonight. maybe worse is wriothesley’s startled yell, and though you can’t see, a crashing sound lets you know he fell out of his chair.

you peak open one eye and yes, he’s on the floor now, face pale as a sheet. not looking at the screen, wriothesley reaches a single finger up and hits the escape button.

he doesn’t ask to try your horror games after that.

#genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #fontaine #genshin impact wriothesley #wriothesley #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley headcanons #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley x y/n #genshin wriothesley #halloween special

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whoistartaglia · 7 months

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imagine reader growing distant from the situationship, because they're slowly falling for someone else who isn't the boys—and it's like, genuine. do the boys realize that they want more than what they claim, or act indifferent about it?

I'm so sorry if this is stupid jrjdkhd

this broke my little heart into pieces </3 i’m thinking about doing a good end and bad end and will definitely play around with this concept in the bad end

#genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #inbox reply #whoistartaglia rambles

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whoistartaglia · 7 months

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part 2 will be a happy or sad ending based on how my situationship goes and rn it aint looking so good

maybe we will, maybe we won’t

genshin men as your situationship. will it ever turn into anything more?

childe

childe is your friends with benefits. it was only supposed to be physical, and at the beginning, it was. you’d come into his house in the middle of the night and he would have to guide you to his room with his hand on your lower back because you still didn’t know the layout in the dark. you’d get to his room and leave in the early morning hours, keeping your activities a secret with the night.

but then he asked you to stay and let you keep his shirt, and cooked you breakfast when you accepted his invitation. now you waltz into his house like it’s your own, during the night, the afternoons, the early mornings. your intimate activites decrease and you even go on a date—except, when you call it that, childe looks down, frowns, and corrects you.

“it wasn’t a date, [name].” words like stones dropping in your stomach. “we’re not like that.”

kaeya

kaeya is your boyfriend without the title. he certainly acts like one, caring for you when you’re sick, kissing you in the corner of a crowded room, walking you home when you’re tipsy from a single drink. he even gives you forehead kisses. forehead kisses. and each and every time he does that or treats you like his partner, you find yourself hoping and wishing one day, he’ll make it official.

but it’s been months now and he still hasn’t. you’re convinced he never will, and at first, you were content with that. you told yourself, as long as you could be with him in some capacity, you could survive. but each and every time someone asks if you’re dating and kaeya dissents, it burns like an open wound, and you’re bleeding out. you can’t keep doing this, and decide to take matters into your own hands, for better or for worse.

kaeya’s face is a shadow. “i thought we weren’t about labels, [name]”

lyney

lyney is not serious about you, and you know that. he’s not in it for keeps, just the spontaneous dates and sometimes more intimate activities. it’s like a firework show, you and him—each time you meet it’s a bright explosion, a colorful show as amazing as his own spectacular performances.

but in between fireworks, the night sky is dark again, completely without light, except for rouge stars come to watch your dazzling display. it’s on and off, the fireworks in the sky, you and lyney meeting up and hanging out without any end goal in sight. but the show’s gonna end soon, and you have no idea how to ask for an encore. you have no idea how to ask lyney to your boyfriend, the serious title and label and all, rather your more than friend, less than lover. this is either going to end in something beautiful or fizzle out, and when you tell this to lyney his face darkens.

“we’re just having fun, [name].” lyney tries for a smile and it falls flat. “there’s no need for this.”

#its probably gonna be a sad ending #genshin impact

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whoistartaglia · 7 months

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maybe we will, maybe we won’t

genshin men as your situationship. will it ever turn into anything more?

childe

“it wasn’t a date, [name].” words like stones dropping in your stomach. “we’re not like that.”

kaeya

kaeya’s face is a shadow. “i thought we weren’t about labels, [name]”

lyney

“we’re just having fun, [name].” lyney tries for a smile and it falls flat. “there’s no need for this.”

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whoistartaglia · 8 months

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I absolutely adore your pfp-

Did you draw it yourself? 🥹

THANK YOU SO MUCH yes i did draw him myself 💪💪

#inbox reply

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whoistartaglia · 8 months

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genshin men when you sleep talk

childe

childe would try to talk to you while your sleep talking. he thinks he’s kind of adorable how you’re muttering random things about your day, and will try to prolong the “conversation.” even if he’s really tired and you accidentally wake him up, childe will just sigh and entertain your sleep talk.

“then i came home… and my boyfriend was there…”

“hmm? and do your think your boyfriend is handsome?”

“yes… i guess…”

childe will try and ask you what “i guess” means, but you’ve started to snore, and his words fall on silent, sleeping ears.

zhongli

zhongli would wake you up the first couple of times, but then let you do your thing once he realizes you go back to sleep talking the moment you fall back asleep. most of the time, he can’t make out the words, but when he does, zhongli is confused. what do you mean you’re having a dream of him breaking up with you? he would never do that— and now you’re awake and accusing him of breaking up with you?

“it was just a bad dream, dear.”

“you broke up with me, and now i’m upset.”

“you’re upset with me for breaking up with you in your dream?”

at your fervent nod, zhongli sighs, and subsequently resigns to make up for your subconscious’s version of himself.

neuvillette

neuvillette finds it endearing, even if it’s three in the morning and you’ve awakened him by voicing random, nonsensical questions. he answers them all too—at least, to the best of his ability. some of your questions are so out there that he simply doesn’t have an answer to give you.

“…why is the ocean blue?”

“because the sky is blue.”

“but… why is sky blue…?”

neuvillette opens his mouth but finds himself stumped. at this point, he’ll gently urge you into a deeper sleep, and ponder your question as you’re snoring away. neuvillette takes it upon himself to ask your random questions later, when you’re awake, and very confused why he’s giving you a science report on the atmosphere and light refraction.

albedo

albedo will write down everything you say. he promises he does this in the least creepy way possible—he just wants to see if there’s any patterns to what your sleep talking. you didn’t think you talked in your sleep a lot, until you saw albedo start a new notebook, and found out he was on his second.

“‘albedo i love you’ i say that in my sleep too?”

“yes. more than once a week.”

“do i say anything too embarassing?”

“…do you really want to know?”

you hesitate, glance at the notebook filled to the brim, and decide your curiosity can be sedated another day. albedo is grateful for this so he didn’t have to tell you that you called him “the most handsome alchemist in teyvat ever.”

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whoistartaglia · 8 months

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HII! Could i request zhongli,Xiao and ayato with a reader whos rich asf and spoils them with stuff,Like for zhongli he may be a bit broke but then reader comes in and now bros able to go on a shopping spree,Xiao who js "tch"s and says its kinda pointless but does accept it and idk abt ayato but yeah- HOPE IM NOT RUDE!! But do remember to rest and take breaks after <333

i love this request anon <3 thank you so much

absolutely spoiling genshin men because they deserve it

zhongli

the waiters at the restaurants you and zhongli frequent have learned to put the check down in front of you, not him.

it was a steep learning curve. your boyfriend is so naturally put together and wears such expensive clothes that who wouldn’t think he’s worth a million mora and more? but after the first several times of you grabbing the check, barely looking at the total, and putting down the correct amount and more, they learned you were the one to go to.

although there was one time this golden rule was broken. you and zhongli were returning from a shopping spree—on you, of course, considering the dust in zhongli’s wallet—when you decided to grab dinner. the waiter welcomed you with a polite smile and took your orders.

everything was going as normal, except for that when the check came, it was zhongli who reached for it, zhongli who glanced at the total, and zhongli who paid.

the waiter was polite enough not to drop open his mouth for too long and quickly accepted the total and generous tip. he turned, thankful and muttering something about buying a lottery ticket, and didn’t catch zhongli sheepishly sliding you your credit card under the table.

xiao

“i have no use for such mortal—“

“will you please just try on this shirt?”

xiao glares at you, but it’s half-hearted at best. he grabs the shirt and enters the changing room. the shopping spree was your idea, of course, and after a little but of grumbling, xiao relented to your financial whims.

“how does it fit?” you call out. xiao pokes his head our of the dressing room, and then steps out. his face has a subtle frown on it, but you dismiss that as him getting tired—this is the eighth store you’ve visited, after all.

“it looks great!” you compliment. you turn to the store associate. “we’ll buy it.” you hand over your credit card and they hurry off.

you turn back to xiao and find his frown has curled into an exasperated smile.

“you do realize that’s the tenth shirt you bought for me today.”

“so?” you ask. you cross your arms and pretend to pout. xiao opens his mouth to say something else, maybe tell you off for spending so much money on him, but doesn’t. he only kind of sighs and heads back into the changing room, making a mental note to never agree to another shopping spree again (even though he totally will).

ayato

when the check lands on the table, it is as if a miniature thunderstorm has started brewing in the restaurant. the waiter acknowledges the strange new tension in the air and scampers off, leaving you and ayato to face off against each other.

your hand lands on the check first, ayato’s a beat behind.

“let go,” you hiss under your breath, making sure to keep up your demure smile.

“you first.” ayato’s eyes are wicked and taunting, and his smile widens when you start to pull it towards you. it’s a dance you’ve both done several times before. this is nothing new.

“it’s my turn to pay.”

“you already paid earlier.”

“i have the money.”

ayato’s laugh is short and quick.

“so do i.”

you sigh and shake your head. you’re both so stubborn that you could dress this battle out for hours and leave the poor waiter in distress.

“fine,” you say, relenting. ayato’s eyebrows quirk up in surprise before you continue, “we’ll split the check. let me just see how much it is.”

his grip loosens by a fraction and you yank the check out, stuff in your credit card, and hand it off to the waiter before ayato can even blink.

“why you—“

“oh, please, just let me treat you—i’ll let you pay next time, okay?”

you both know that’s a lie.

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