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slowips · 1 year

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for your sake

chongyun / reader

To everyone else, Chongyun is the eccentric exorcist who has never seen an evil spirit in his life. However, he knows you see him as that plus as the culprit who ruined your peaceful evening in Wanmin Restaurant and the clumsy guy who pushed you into water. He’s hardly done anything right when you’re around, so why do you keep coming back?

# description of violence, implied blood and wounds, near death experience, spoilers for chongyun's character story 3 & Field Guide to Demons and Beasts, angst (for now), 3.2k words.

series / prompt / read on ao3

.　⁺ . 　 ˚　✦　.　　+ ⁺　　 . ✦

The first time Chongyun meets you is apparently not his first. You scowl, evidence he left a lasting impression. There’s only one reason why he can’t remember such a harrowing encounter: his excessive yang energy bested him.

“I’m sorry,” he says coldly, careful not to let his emotions take control when that has proven unfortunate. He bows to show sincerity, but shouldn’t have bowed as deep as he did, blood rushing to his head as he waits for your answer.

In a firm tone, you reply, “For what?”

He jerks his torso upright, flabbergasted. He’s trying to keep his face neutral but an eyebrow twitches.

“At… Wanimin Resturant… last week…”

You taunt him by jutting your chin, arms crossed, and pouting at his lacklustre apology.

“Where I… uh, I…”

He glances at his best friend for aid. Xingqiu looks at him expectantly, then you, then him again. Chongyun is an exorcist, not a mind reader, so he still doesn’t know what to do. Thankfully, Xingqiu gives in.

“My liege, if you’d be so kind, would you allow me to take a moment of your time to explain my friend’s predicament on his behalf?” Xingqiu then ushers you away from Chongyun, who takes out a popsicle to lick.

Think, think, think.

Xiangling said he mistook her for an evil spirit and struck a parchment on her forehead. Did he perhaps knock your dish over in chase? Or worse, struck a parchment on your forehead too? He’s lucky that Xiangling is a friend, so he got away with her blabbering nonsense and no hard feelings, but if it was a stranger…

His thoughts shift to you and Xingqiu when he notices how long it has been. With backs facing him, he can’t see anyone’s expression, and worry continues to chip on his popsicle.

Finally, Xingqiu returns.

Your animosity has quelled, but it still displeases him to see you frown. Chongyun wants another bite of his ice cream. He finds himself chewing on the wooden stick instead.

You look him up and down before turning to Xingqiu.

“You cannot be for real.”

“Everything I say is the truth,” Xingqiu replies, a tinge of mischief in his eyes that sends chills down Chongyun’s spine. He grinds on the wooden stick. It reminds him of other exercises to keep the nerves at bay.

Deep breathes.

You leave after giving Xingqiu a chaste goodbye. He returns it out of formality. When Chongyun tries to seek solace in him again, Xingqiu smiles—it solves nothing.

“What did you share?”

“Everything your new friend needs to know to get you off the hook.”

Chongyun frowns at Xingqiu’s choice of words. New friend? He’s certain you won’t return even if you didn’t say goodbye. He is a walking reminder of that incident. Why would you want to remember something upsetting?

Xingqiu hastens Chongyun to remain on track, reminding him that he has an appointment with another benefactor as the son of Feiyun Commerce Guild in the evening. If they were going to follow the clue of an evil spirit near the Chasm, they’ll have to hurry.

Chongyun agrees. He’ll also train right after so such situations with strangers won’t happen again.

⠀

In his excitement after receiving a clue about a spirit in Guyun Stone Forest, he had forgotten about his most prized possession. He was about to set sail when he patted himself down, ready to revise on spirits defeated by his ancestors, and felt nothing.

His tome—passed down by generations—was missing.

He rushes to Wanmin’s bookstore since it’s the last place he recalls having it. He asks the store owner if he saw his book. She nods.

Unfortunately, she points to the north exit of Liyue.

“It may not be too late if you leave now.”

Hastily, he bows, leaving in a flurry which causes his unique constitution to creep on him, blending his thoughts.

Someone seeing his drawings—wait… His depictions of evil spirits might not be accurate, but the entities are real, and if someone were to seek trouble because of his book…

The bridge is empty. Not even the guard is at the opposite end, probably lounging under some shade as the blaze of the afternoon sun has no remorse. All his effort is spent coalescing cryo energy to keep him cool and he finds himself slowing his pace.

A blur of unnatural colours catches his eye as he crosses the bridge. You’re sitting on the banks, feet swaying in the water. There’s a large book on your lap. Merrily, you flip a page.

He narrows his eyes, the last encounter bitter on his tongue. Every time the wood creaks under his weight, he glances at you.

…What has captured your attention so successfully?

He backtracks, leaning over the railing to catch a glimpse of the book only for terror to seize him.

That’s—

That’s his most prized possession.

He sprints towards the banks, slides over the rocks, and yanks the book out of your hands—splash!

Deep breathes.

When he turns around after calming down to help you out of the water, you’re lying on the rock, hacking and gasping for breath, drenched.

Oh no. It’s a tug of war between confronting the reality that he’s harmed you or hiding behind his special constitution as he did before—

“You—” You cough, hitting your chest. He can only watch, unsure if further involvement will make things worse.

He closes his eyes, clutching his book and waits for your words to sting—

Your coughing subsides.

Were you not going to say anything?

He opens one eye.

“Hey,” you start, hands on your hips, eyebrows furrowed. Embarrassingly, he flinches.

“I’m sorry,” he utters before you can, eyes trailing from his book to the ground.

“...For what?”

When he meets your eyes, you laugh.

“It should be me who’s sorry. I knew it was your book and wanted to return it, but… I’m sorry. I didn’t expect the entries for a guidebook to be so… personal.”

Chongyun’s face flushes. “Where—where did you read till?”

You gesture for the book. He hugs it tighter, eliciting another round of laughs from you.

“Aren’t you curious?” you taunt, a smirk growing. He wishes he has the power to melt it, but he supposes it’s better than seeing you frown. “I can’t remember the name so I’ll need to look at the drawings.”

“Then the answer isn’t important to me.”

You wring your clothes, observing him. He recalls how Xingqiu explained his special constitution, leaving him to wonder if you notice the truth behind his entries…

“You know,” you say, and he swears you’re a mind reader, “for someone who has never seen a spirit before, you can draw really detailed drawings.”

“I—” Chongyun pauses. If only words are stuck in his throat rather than having no words to defend him at all. “Well—” he tries again.

“If you care about seeing an evil spirit, I can be your eyes.”

He doesn’t like how serious you look. Hunting spirits is dangerous, and unlike you, Xingqiu has the advantage of being an elemental user.

“I’ll give you descriptions of the evil spirit for you to draw, then your entries will be perfect, won't they?” You add, eyes bright. The sun further amplifies the sparkle. He’s going to go blind looking at your shining face.

“Why are you helping me?”

You climb up from the banks and give an outstretched hand for him to take. He stares at it like poison before he pulls himself up.

“You cannot be for real,” you say with mock hurt—he hopes. “You think I’m incapable of doing good? Well then, see it this way: you owe me for what you did at Wanmin Restaurant.”

He groans. If only he could find a way to erase that from memories.

“I’m really sorry. I don’t know what I did, but it won’t happen again.”

“What? You’re not going to brag about your clan?”

“That’s… all?” He expected worse, like taking a bite of your dish without permission, dancing on table tops, or accidentally breaking your plate. The list can go on.

“I mean, bragging about your clan is cute, but maybe we wouldn’t want you dragging me to jump from table to table with you, eating my food, and, I don’t know, briefly chasing after me again?”

“Oh,” he lowers his head in shame.

“Don’t worry,” you say as you place your hand on his shoulder. Warmth rushes through his body. It’s discomforting and he retracts himself from your touch.

“Sorry,” you say this time, raising your hands as if you’re surrendering. “Anyways, when we go ghost hunting, I promise I’ll stay very far away from you. It’s not like the plan will work if you’re nearby.”

“I don’t see how I’m needed.” People see spirits all the time when he’s not around. That’s how they receive their clues. “You’ll be better off without me.”

“Look,” you frown and Chongyun grimaces, “You bragged to my face for 15 minutes that your clan’s methods are the best in all of Liyue—no, in all of Tevyat. What if we chance upon an evil spirit that isn’t affected by your constitution? Wouldn’t I need you to stay safe?”

Safe.

He doesn’t understand how you can say that after he pushed you into the waters, fully conscious.

“Did… Xingqiu tell you this?”

“Most of it, at least,” You scratch the nape of your neck, giving a sheepish smile. You initiate a handshake before keeping it to your side. “So… Do we have a deal?”

There’s a gust of wind. You hug yourself as you shiver, waiting for his answer.

It’s probably the dashing and sprinting around Liyue, but he finds himself doing the unthinkable. Reflexively, he puts the book aside to take his coat off. Then, he places it on your shoulder.

“I think it’s best if we part ways,” he says, grabbing his book. He will not forget it again. “You can keep it.”

As he leaves, he turns to see what expression you’ll hold, but your face is buried in his coat as you wrap it tightly around your figure. He’s glad it can keep you warm.

That should be a nice note to end things.

⠀

“So…” you say in the comforts of Xingqiu’s couch. “How is this going to work?”

Chongyun can’t believe this is the 4th (or 5th if you count Wanmin Resturant’s encounter) time he’s seeing you. You managed to successfully rope Xingqiu into your plan. It’s impossible for him to escape with two brilliant minds cornering him.

The third time he met you was to discuss how far Chongyun has to stay from the site in order for a spirit to be unaffected by his radius. Next on the agenda is how you can hold your ground after sounding the flare without power over the elements.

“You have charms that can protect an individual, do you not?” Xingqiu inquires as he rummages through his drawers. “I faintly remember Chongyun gave me a few when we were younger…”

You look at Chongyun, hope and excitement melding in your eyes. He swallows, worried.

“Charms are not to be taken lightly,” Chongyun warns, wary of changes in your expression, although—to his relief—your eagerness does not fade. “Good quality parchments are hard to find, and charms not made properly can cause injuries when used.”

“Do you find it difficult to make charms?”

“N-not quite…”

“Then all we need is parchment paper. Where can we find it?”

“Aha!” Xingqiu exclaims before Chongyun can reply. He returns with a stack of beige paper. They’re shaped like bells with the traditional script written in the centre.

“Why don’t you wear them?” you ask Xingqiu as you slide your thumb over one of them. Chongyun has to hold himself back from snatching it away—you might get a paper cut if he does.

“They’re talismans for practice.”

“You didn’t need to keep them,” Chongyun says, “They’re just paper…”

“Wait a minute, can you recycle parchment?” You feel the texture of the paper again. “They feel sturdy enough.”

“Brilliant,” Xingqiu echoes. “I knew they would be worth keeping.”

“Cute handwriting, by the way,” you add, grinning at Chongyun. He averts his gaze. His excessive energy will not get the best of him.

The weight of his friends’ enthusiasm grows. He sighs.

“I’ll… I’ll try…”

“You’re the best!” you say, handing him the practice charms. At that moment, his fingers brush against yours. The warmth isn’t discomforting this time. It’s almost addictive, so he takes out a popsicle while you blabber with Xingqiu.

As he lets the coldness of his snack ease his body, he admits that he admires your steadfastness. He can’t pin down why you’re insistent on working together since he’s been nothing but trouble, but perhaps these charms can change that.

To rid the world of evil; to protect the innocent. That is why he trains.

⠀

A few months have passed since you founded the team. With an uptick in business meetings, Xingqiu tags along when he’s free.

The routine is simple: someone chances upon a clue and preparations ensue. You’ll wander around the suspected areas with a flare for emergencies as Chongyun waits at the edges. So far, things have been uneventful, pushing Chongyun further from the site after speculating his energy is stronger than calculated.

Everyone has their sight on Lingju Pass. There aren’t many clues on what to look for, but strange things occur after midnight after the reopening of the Chasm.

You sit at the top of the ruins. The whole area is in view at such heights, but that’s not why you chose it. In this distance, there’s a smidge of light blue. It’s too far to know what Chongyun is up to, but he’s like a stain in the picturesque orange sunset. He steals your attention more than you’d like to admit.

Does he see you as well? It seems he’s always looking away, much to your dismay.

The sky darkens as the sun descends. The air grows chilly. You expected mist to form when you breathed out only to be disappointed.

Any minute now…

Any minute…

Has a minute passed?

“Hello.”

You jump, almost falling off from your spot if not for the person who spooked you. With an iron grip, the stranger steadies you.

He has yellow eyes. They’re striking. It reminds you of the amber on Liyue’s mountains. They’re impossible to peer through, like how the stranger’s intentions are unreadable. He saved you though, so brownie points to him, you guess.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, but I rarely find others here at this hour…”

“Ah… well, I have some business to do here.”

“Business, you say?” he quips, ignoring your personal space. You’re dangerously at the edge. Probably shouldn’t have praised him for saving you too early.

Your hands hover over your flare, but his piercing gaze forces you to grip the talisman in your pocket. The stranger leans back when you squeeze it.

“Yeah, business. I appreciate being alone, so if you could do me a favour, please—”

“But you seem fun,” he says and blinks. It’s the first time you see him blink. “I hardly ever get visitors daring enough to come this close.”

His words sink as the air grows heavy. Amber eyes glow with menace. You find yourself stiffened by the cold—this time, mist forms when a fragment of a scream leaves your lips.

He grows horns on his back; his lower half contorts and joins itself to form the bottom of a serpent. His fingernails extend and become terrifying claws. You're memorising each obsidian scale, forgetting the fear that freezes every fibre in you.

He grabs your throat, shaking you out of your petrified state as your brain activates its fight mode. You pull out the charm, and as Chongyun taught, you pin it on his forehead. The monster hisses. Smoke rises from the contact. Sulphur fills your nostrils.

The flare.

In pain, the monster lets go of you. You are prey to your human limitations, twisting and struggling to gain control of your body in midair.

The damn flare.

The evil spirit lunges, chasing after you with rabid joy reflected in his bared fangs. When he catches you, liquid rolls down your arm.

It’s weakened from your attack, but so are you. The last thought you can conjure is one of hope: you think of Chongyun.

⠀

There is a bang on the door. Chongyun glares at Xingqiu to which his friend shrugs, eyes filled with dubious innocence.

“Chongyun?” your voice calls through the thick wood. “You can’t ignore me forever. I know you’re in there, and it’s not Xingqiu’s fault either.”

Xingqiu pokes Chongyun’s side.

“Go.”

Chongyun grunts, trying to keep a straight face as if he wasn’t hugging your unfamiliar cold body days ago.

Breathe.

This is not a good time to succumb to his weakness.

“Finally,” you greet when he opens the door. He closes his eyes at the sight of your bandages. The grey sky worsens his guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I should have known this wouldn’t have worked.”

“But it did.” He can’t understand why you sound so cheerful. You flinch as you try to reach into your bag. “I drew the evil spirit. I even saw it transform and—”

Chongyun sighs. “We’re not doing it again.”

“We don’t have to,” you agree, yet your smile loses strength. It’s the first time he sees you lost for words.

There’s a flash of lightning in the distance.

“You should be resting.”

“But I promised you, didn’t I?”

It starts to drizzle. Chongyun doesn’t know what to say to invite you in. The last thing he wants is for your bandages to get wet.

“After this, please don’t find me again.” He tries to keep a nonplus expression; it’s hard when you look at him with a face twisted in pain.

“What…?”

He opens the door to let you in, especially with the rain picking up.

“You don’t mean it when you say to never find you again, right? We can always do something else,” you plead.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

He grabs your hand, careful of your wounds. He’s relieved to feel a semblance of warmth yet horrified at how muted it is, and gently pulls you in. He closes the door, expecting you to meet with Xingqiu in the living room, but you stand your ground.

“If this is the last we’ll see each other,” you pause, contemplating your words, “I wanted you to know I enjoy our time together.”

He’s reminded of your gallery of smiles and how he always wants to ask: “Why?”

You’re strangely shy, eyes landing on his hand that’s holding yours.

“...I always felt protected with you around.”

It’s one thing to remind himself to breathe for his exercises. It’s another when he tries but his airways are blocked.

“You cannot be for real—”

“I am being completely for real.”

You step towards him.

He closes his eyes and feels a soft warmth on his cheeks.

“This is my goodbye, I guess.”

His yang energy encroaches on his senses. His head spins. You wiggle your hand out of his grasp. He should have held on, but he lets it slip away.

It’s for your sake.

───・

requested by anon / weaving / notes coming soon!

#genshin x reader #chongyun x reader #genshin impact x reader #chongyun x y/n #chongyun x you #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x y/n #x reader #genshin impact x you #/#i literally cannot see anything my vision is so blurry HAHAHAH #wanted to push this out bc i have 10 fics to complete. if i release 1 fic per month i'll complete this in oct...#not ideal :(#cant believe i'm saying this but this might be ooc (sigh)#this isn’t the true ending it ends in fluff PROMISE

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lemontrash · 1 year

Text

"You're not following!" Wufei explodes, dropping her hands. "Stop fucking around and follow my lead!"

"Make me!" Dorothy shoots back. She pushes away from him and stalks across the dance studio to her water bottle, a long blade of distain for him. Wufei grinds his teeth. Of all people... "I'm only doing this for Une as a favour," she reminds him, "But don't think that means I'll do less than I'm capable of performing. If you want me to dance, then you need to do far better." Bitterness floods Wufei's mouth. This is bullshit. If it weren't for a mission, he'd have put an exit hole in the wall by now. He curses Une, curses Barton, Maxwell and Winner and every other man who ought to be standing here instead of him, and mainly curses whoever taught Dorothy to dance. She's violently talented.

"Again." He demands. No surrender. "Why? You're boring me."

"Again!"

"Une should fire you and let me hire my own partner. I could do this mission single-handed and not have to waste my time rehearsing your incompetant footwork."

"Catalonia!"

"I'm not deaf. You know," she continues airily, stretching, "It's a pity the target doesn't dance Standard. You'd excel in routines where you're supposed to look like you have a stick up your-" She yelps when he grabs her arm and drags her back to their first position mark.

"Shut up and dance."

"Are you going to get blocks for your shoes? It looks so ridiculous, you being shorter than me."

"If you put as much energy into this as being a bitch-"

"I can multitask," she cuts in, acidically sweet, and there's a sparkle in her eye that implicates her in the sin of enjoying herself. And because she knows that he knows and she still wants the last word, she drops her hand and pinches his ass, making him flinch upright. "Bottom in, now, clean posture, Chang."

"Are you finished?"

"Am I? I thought we were starting from the top."

She smirks although the next iteration of their choreography, fighting him every inch for the lead. He fights back, blood roaring in his ears, knowing at least he has more stamina than she does. But by the end of it, she's bored and irritated again. "This has to work," he says, when they finally quit rehearsals. Dorothy gives him an arch look. "It has to," Wufei insists. "If you're such an expert, advise me."

She purses her lips, looking him up and down. "That hinges on it being anything you're actually able to resolve." He's about to argue again, when she shrugs, turning flippant. "Very well. You have the ego and the physical strength and flexibility to dance."

Her hair swishes behind her as she advances on him, words like needles. "But you lack everything else. You're not charming. You're not seductive. You're not romantic. You have no sense of fun. You don't play games. You wield any dry, underused sex appeal you possibly could have have like a dead fish. You don't perform and you're not in love with your body."

He hates to gratify her by blushing, but it rises up out of his chest like a scald.

"You suck." Dorothy concludes. "That's just who you are."

Mulish instinct makes him say, "It's not."

This delights her. She walks off laughing, uncaring, snagging her sportsbag lightly in one hand as she goes.

"Oh? Well I look very much forward to seeing you prove it. Ta-ta!"

Witch.

Wufei steams. He practices alone, furiously, until he's forced to admit that raking himself over the coals is not unearthing any answer to her challenge.

He slumps down by the wall and, in the middle of the night, is unapologetic about waking Trowa with a phone call.

"My help?" Barton says, blearily. "I can't dance. I broke an ankle, that's the whole reason-"

"Not the dance," Wufei cuts him off. "I don't need you to do backflips for me. Something else. I need discreet advice."

Trowa's silence revererates with curiosity. Wufei decides that's no bad thing. "Come to the studio," he demands without explanation and hangs up. Alone, he stands in front of the mirror.

Inspired by @lila-oh

hahahah don't ask for more I can promise nothing. this is a canape. You get one mouthful of pate.

#hahahah don't ask for more I can promise nothing. this is a canape. You get one mouthful of pate.#Chang Wufei #dorothy catalonia #Trowa Barton #Myfic

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