Nilou!

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mod ganyu especially loves this

— you’ve grown up with thoma, he’s basically been your best friend since you were a kid. you know many things about him, and he knows everything about you—well, almost

authors note: HEYOOO!!! finally decided to write this silly series with the beloved thoma shshsh ill try to stretch it out as much as i can because i like childhood friends to lovers OH MY GOD DO YOU KNOW HOW MCHU I LVOE THA

chapter 1 - festival planning (and hanging out with him)

chapter 2 - preparation

chapter 3 - changes

chapter 4 - day one

chapter 5 - day two

chapter 6 - final day

find the series in my wattpad and ao3!

character: albedo 

genre: fluff !!

notes: this is based on my prev. released hcs/scenarios for ‘how they express love’. i had lots of fun writing this! lol i kinda pressured myself to write as descriptively as my *other* published wks for other fandoms, but i paused and realized that this is being written for personal fulfillment and as a hobby! i hope this wk makes u smile :) thank u for supporting me,,

© sakuimpact 2022 

…

“You don’t have inspiration this time around?”

“It’s not that actually…” Albedo responds, eyeing the empty vial in his hand.

“This is 5 milliliters…hm.”

“Should I leave?” You half-smile. When Albedo got in ‘the zone’, it was usually best to leave and let him focus. Alchemy was a field that required the utmost thoroughness and dedication, which you believed suited him just fine. Not that he needed anyone to tell him otherwise.

“No, no. I apologize for being quite out of it today. I’m just conflicted. My behavior must reflect that.”

You nudge his shoulder. “There’s no need to be sorry.”

He sighs. “Still, I should be more aware of my surroundings.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Albedo. You’re always finding something new, right? You notice so many different things.”

“But they feel inadequate when it counts.” Albedo confesses.

You perked up suddenly. “You know, I read something recently that might help.”

“Oh?”

“In the olden days, famous poets like Homer and would invoke the Muses in their work. Before the prologue or any other stanzas, a prayer or plea of some sort would be said. Inspiration was always seen as divine recognition and a blessing from above, so those who boasted or didn’t give credit would often be cursed or end up suffering. Maybe what you need is…a random object to draw inspiration from?”

He seems to consider it for a moment. “That does sound intriguing. But what could possibly be something I haven’t already studied?”

“I think that’s for you to figure out.” You gently place both of your hands in his. He looks up hopefully at your face, letting the smallest hint of a smile break his default expression.

“You have a point, Y/N. Still, I can’t help but feel like the answers I seek are right in front of me…” He crosses his arms.

You laugh lightly. It’s becoming crystal-clear that the whole advice column isn’t your forte.  “Maybe. Listen, I have to get going–finishing up commissions and all…but I’ll see you later? If you still want to eat together, that is.”

“Of course I do. Please take care, Y/N. I’ll meet you at Good Hunter later tonight.”

“Sounds like a plan!” You tip your head in his direction before exiting the lab, making sure to shut the door all the way.

Albedo waves his hand at you, his lips pressed in a tight line. No sooner was the door shut, did he collapse into his chair. The sudden, knotted feeling in his chest was something he couldn’t quite understand.

…

During your meal, he finally breaks the silence.

“I’d like you to model for me.” His monotone voice almost makes it seem like he’s reporting the weather or results of an alchemy experiment.

You were working through the remains of your Sweet Madame, picking at the sides you didn’t like–and completely caught off guard.

“Model for you? Oh of cour–wait…what?!”

“I’d like you to be the model for my next painting, Y/N.”

It was an odd request, you admit. You clear your throat, chugging down your drink and washing down the food that had somehow lodged itself in your throat. Honestly, you should know how to react better. It’s a simple request! One that you might have been the catalyst for, seeing as you decided to give advice on a field you’re not very well-versed in. Heck, you can’t even draw a stick figure!

But, witnessing Albedo’s earnest expression (as earnest as you can get when it comes to him) and simple query was endearing in some of the best ways. Maybe you could help him after all. Even though you’re certain that you are the farthest thing from runway-ready, Albedo probably doesn’t care. He’s asking for help, not demanding you solve his problems. Still, why would you want to say no to an opportunity like this?

“I’ll do my best to model for your next painting, Albedo!”

“Great.”

…

“What do you even wear to a modeling…er painting session?” You wonder aloud, sifting through your closet. There was always your favorite outfit, but even that seemed too ‘meh’ for today. Wasn’t there anything that wasn’t rumpled or neon-colored in Teyvat’s clothing industry? You debated asking one of your friends for a spare jacket or hat, but it was already 10 minutes before your appointment. Everyone was probably already at work.

You slip on a black shirt and pinafore combo, tugging the hem downwards and doing a quick spin in front of the mirror.

“Time to go!”

…

The art room smells like a mix of paint, wooden pencils, charcoal and clay. Basically, it’s heaven (as long as you don’t sniff the brush cleaner or eat the art paste used for paper mache).

“Sooo…I just have to sit down and smile?” You take a seat on a lone wooden tripod, probably forgotten from last night’s art class.

“Or wait, maybe I should frown? Or just stare blankly ahead? What vibe are we going for today? Do artists even try to capture ‘vibes’?”

Albedo runs a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at his blank canvas that is staring him down. “I appreciate your ‘vibes’ and enthusiasm, Y/N. Though I’m not sure if I can capture this–”

“Nuh-uh. I’m not going to model for you if you keep going on this Albedo-bashing train of self-doubt. I don’t know how many times you need to hear this, but you’ve created and discovered so many beautiful things. I just know that whatever you paint today is going to be spectacular. Even if you decide to draw my nose backwards or…something. Just try. Isn’t that all we can do? No one’s perfect.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Let’s get on with this then!”

“Alright.”

…

“Can I blink now?”

“Naturally.”

…

“How long has it been? The sun is going down.” You point out. Your legs are numb from being stuck in one position for the past hours.

“I’m almost finished, Y/N.”

“You’ve said that 5 times already!”

…

“You’re art.”

Albedo stops mid-stroke, setting his paintbrush down to dry. The purple line he swept across the canvas appears more jagged than he would like. Still, he picks your voice out of the soft whispers and ideas that cloud his mind. He can’t help but listen.

“What did you say?” His voice rings out in the quiet of the room.

“You’re art.”

Albedo is taken aback by those two words. He tentatively peeks out from behind his current project to glance at your face.

“What about my art?”

You half-smile, folding one hand over the other. You’re not entirely sure if this is the best thing to share right now. He might not understand. No, it’s not that he won’t understand–it’s that you’re afraid to come to terms with something you’ve known all along. Confessing your feelings–to Albedo’s face (you might add) might change everything.  

“Y/N, if there’s anything you want to know about my art–you can just ask.”

It was bound to be said anyway. Once you start speaking, you can’t stop. The words you’ve saved up in your heart just overflow and spill themselves at the artist’s feet. Maybe he’ll accept them.  

“Your art is an extension of yourself, Albedo. And I…think that what you create is beautiful. But not just that. What I really think, is that you’re beautiful. You’re art. And I hope that I can be a muse and reach you.”

His breath catches in his throat. He never expected something like that. All the planning and carefully executed experiments he’s laid out have never quite reached this type of outcome. The room is charged in an almost electrifying tension and the seconds turn to minutes. The flecks of dust in the lab stand out in the almost pristine lab, catching the sunbeams that filter through the windows.

Albedo kneels at your feet, keeping his head facing downward. He gently clutches your hand and lifts it to his lips.  

“You know, in some ways the subject of the art is more important than the actual artist.” He says softly.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Albedo.” You chide him.

“It takes two.”

You nudge his shoulder, prompting him to stand up. He falls into your embrace, holding you with unimaginable tenderness.