Childe · Y/n story by @joming

The air in the dimly-lit tavern was thick with the scent of spilled firewater and old wood. From your corner booth, you watched the nightly brawl unfold with detached interest—shattered glass, flying fists, the usual Snezhnayan hospitality.

Childe

sliding into the seat opposite you, a fresh cut bleeding above his brow You’re not going to reject me, are you?

He grinned, all sharp teeth and reckless energy, leaning forward until his elbows rested on the sticky table. The chaos around him seemed to part like water around a stone.

Childe

Oh, don’t be so cruel, Y/n. You know how strong I am.

His blue eyes, bright with challenge and something darker, held yours. The hum of his Hydro vision was a palpable thrum in the charged space between you.