#Genshin fanfic

[celuere]

when our hearts intertwine

pt. 2 of tangled hearts

pairing: arlecchino x fem!harbinger reader

context: you can’t help but collide on a stressful day.

cw: one-sided hate sex, arle being a pathetic lesbian, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, arle orgasms while eating pussy what a looser, yearning lesbians, mutual pining omg im so sick, homophobic crucabena uhm, mentions of drug handling and sex work, sexual harassment for like one short paragraph

word count: 5.2k

wanted to give reader a certain character depth so i added a few flashbacks. also didnt‘t flesh reader‘s backstory out by a lot on purpose since i wanted to leave space for y’all’s self inserts or ocs lore mwuah

you hated harbinger discussions.

not because pierro thought it was an amazing idea to announce this meeting the same morning you woke up with a dreadful headache from last evening‘s… wine tasting.

but because you had to look at her face.

one would think she‘d return the gesture and blatantly ignore you, but no. her eyes slipped over to you at least once every few minutes. studying you with an unfulfilled desire burning in her crimson x‘s, it almost made you think she felt guilty. but for what?

there was nothing she should possibly feel guilty for. she just tossed you aside without further explanation and took a pretty thing back to her hotel yesterday. you knew. of course you did. the apologetic look on her face yesterday was all you needed.

and now she sat there in front of you. with the guts to look sorry. after ignoring your attempts to mend things, waving you off when you tried talking to her, it pissed you off. greatly. for all the same reasons that make her an outstanding diplomat of her majesty, she was unbelievable bad with her feelings. but you could handle her fairly well in the past. 

she couldn‘t find the words to talk to you after moments of shared vulnerability and intimacy? tracing her curse marks while resting her head on top her bare chest while you listened to the steady beat of her heart was also fine with you. she never outright confessed how deep her feelings for you actually went but you never minded it when she‘d sent you whole poems each day she wasn‘t near enough to bathe in the comfort of your presence.

but now the sight of her almost ticked you off. childe raised an eyebrow as he noticed your clenched jaw before his eyes wandered over to his colleague, raising an eyebrow at how her gaze seemingly pinned you to your chair.

arlecchino seemed to catch up to the ginger‘s lingering attention on her, raising an eyebrow herself as she stared him down. he knew exactly what that lookmeant.

„mind your own business.“

he just sank back into his chair with a sigh tickling the back of his throat.

„i didn’t know i was taking care of a bunch kindergarteners today, lady brighella. care to enlighten us as to why you seemingly want to stab lord arlecchino with your eyes? maybe if you look hard enough she‘ll manage a sneeze.“, the jesters raw, low tone bounced off the marmor walls of zapolyarny palace as he folded his hands in front of him.

perfect. the last thing you needed was your superior berating you in front of your colleagues like a 12 year old. 

„with all due respect, sir pierro, i have no idea what you’re talking about.“, you didn’t plan on humiliating yourself any further, so you avoided looking back into arlecchino‘s direction.

you missed the deathgrip in which she engulfed her glass of wine.

„seize it, brighella. spare me the theatrics, i already bestowed you with your part of the plan. you‘re dismissed.“, a gloved hand waved you off into the direction of the exit, the guards already starting to pull the big mahogany door open for your leave.

your mouth fell slightly open.

he did not just kick you out. 

for something she was responsible for.

„you‘re dismissing me because a certain person in this room can‘t seem deal with the consequences of her ow-”

„i‘m dismissing you because your recent attitude is irritating and nowhere near reasonable for someone your age and status. i won’t repeat myself“, now narrowing his eyes at you, pierro nodded his head into the direction of the widely opened door.

you were 100% sure a blood vessel just popped in your forehead by how hard you were biting down whatever insults rested on your tongue. 

making sure the feet of your chair were screeching loudly enough as you shoved yourself back from the table, you snatched up your stuff and rushed out of the conference room.

to hell with them.

„no need to follow her, lord arlecchino. you‘re still needed in this conversation.“

and to hell with her too.

„she looks miserable. i have never seen her like that. ever.“

„i don’t care, ajax.“

„don‘t you think you should at least try and talk to her? i get that you are angry, you have every right to that, but you can‘t keep on going out of your way to make her feel so bad instead of-”

„ajax, would it hurt you to shut up for once?“, tone so sharp it could cut through the icy heart of her majesty itself. you were so sick. so sick of your friend trying to play therapist. sure, ajax was despite his title as „the childe“ still a kind-hearted soul who wanted only the best for his comrades but after weeks and weeks of failed attempts to mingle into yours and arlecchino’s relationship… you wanted to strangle him now.

„i am merely trying to help. you know her better than i do, it couldn‘t possibly hurt to just… talk with her“, the ginger crossed his arms now and tilted his head. those blue eyes trying to read you. trying to pry into your thoughts and soul.

„get out, tartaglia.“

you could only make out the faint cussing beneath his breath as he slammed the door to your laboratory shut behind him.

a deafening silence filled the room, a soft comfort to your boiling blood. you allowed yourself to sink back into the cushions of your chair as you repeated his words over and over in your mind. 

„talk to her.“

what is there to talk about? you were never in a serious relationship. you rarely woke up next to her after another one of your nightly rendezvous. you never spent the mornings together with making breakfast. neither of you ever allowed yourselves to whisper those three words during moments of raw skin, needy kisses and shared vulnerability. sure, they lingered on your tongue. you could taste them. most of the time they tasted like bad alcohol, reminding you of how they were best kept to yourself, how you’d regret opening up your heart to her, just like you would regret a bad glass of wine.

will it ever stop? the sharp pain in your chest anytime your gaze wandered over to her? it was cruel. so cruel for her to have this kind of effect on you. it‘s not easy to sit though hour long meetings and discussions when she is sitting in the same room as you. breathing the same air as you. feeling those bloody x‘s resting on your face for longer than you would like. it caused your heart to swell and your chest to tighten. your thoughts suddenly growing to loud for your head, blending out the heated conversations occurring just a meter away from you as your breath grows heavy, lungs feeling suddenly so awfully small and tight. 

you almost lost it last night, when she led this strange lady over the dance floor. chuckling with her. eyeing her up and down like she used to do it with you when you were laying helpless and naked underneath her.

it almost knocked the air out of your lungs when she still had the nerve to lock eyes with you for the last time of the evening. a look full of despair and agony. screaming. screaming to you. for you. and all you could do was sit there. watch and try to delude yourself about the reasons why she would leave with this woman. alone.

you were in love with arlecchino peruere.

and there was nothing you could do about it.

„Peruere?“, the afternoon breeze gently brushed through the hearth‘s garden, a few loose hairstrands now hindering your view on the kneeling girl in front of you. she seemed to be focused on the little grasshopper that‘s been sitting in her palm for a while now.

„hm…?“, those unique pupils slowly averted their gaze up to you, but not before they lingered on the bandage that covered up the most recent addition to your collection of scars. 

„mother said i‘m getting adopted tomorrow.“

a gust of wind hit peruere right into the face, sending the small insect off her hand. the happy chirping of the birds that surrounded the estate just a few moments ago seized from existence as your words rung in her ears. echoing through her usual raging mind. but right now there was nothing but silence.

what was that feeling boiling up in her stomach?

„don‘t you have anything to say, peru…?“, you almost looked a little hurt, your tone growing nervous. shouldn‘t she be happy for these news? for you? at the chance of escaping this living hell where death was looming at every corner?

then why couldnt she help but feel… anxious at the thought of you leaving her and clervie behind? no more evenings spent together patching each other up. no more sneaking out of the safety of your beds to go gazing upon the stars. clervie would always give them funny names while you‘d give them meanings. 

all of that would disappear. be different. feel wrong without you.

„no… no i‘m glad for you… it‘s just…“, the white-haired girl seemed to struggle with finding the right words for you. she didn‘t want to offend you or make you feel like you should rather stay here in this slaughterhouse. 

a rare wave of unease washed over you at her loss for words. was she angry with you? even disappointed? but the way those crimson x‘s darted around the ground, as if she was searching for answers between the rainbow roses surrounding you told you something else.

you were just about to say something as peruere‘s blackened fingertips snaked around your hands, giving them an almost desperate squeeze as she rose up from her knees. and she was still a head smaller than you. but you bit that remark down. or rather it was quickly forgotten by the way your heart pounded in your chest. sending your blood racing through your veins.

mother always preached about how two girls looking at each other like this was wrong. sinful. but how could the warmth of your skin against hers feel so right? the way her eyes found your lips and then locked gaze with the shimmering color of yours. it didn‘t make any sense.

„peruere, wha-“

„i promise to find you again. to come looking for you with clervie at the first chance we earn.“

but fate had different plans for the three of you.

neither did she come looking for you. five years have passed and now you were both stuck in the harbinger ranks. it has been a week since peruere‘s arlecchino’s appointment as the knave and she didnt do more than nod into your direction on her first day. was it the pressure? clervie‘s and mother‘s blood sticking to her hands? a few weeks ago she was considered a teenager, now she is running the house of the hearth all by herself. a seventeen year old in charge of other children as traumatized and scarred as her. the only difference? arlecchino has always been a natural at masking her true feelings. the average fatui subordinate is already describing her as „cunning“, „cold“, „manipulative“. and it angered you. everything angered you recently.

you‘ve bore the title as „brighella“ for barely five months but compared to her, your workload has been easy. potions here, poisons there. interrogating traitor‘s or possible spies before eventually executing them after turning them into your own personal test subjects… you‘ve experienced worse. and still. 

you were farther away from her than ever before.

the stench of bitter opium and long forgotten dreams caused you to scratch the tip of your nose. your sense of smell is definitely going to be fucked up once you made it out of here. hopefully without having to wash the blood and innard off of your clothes from the man sitting before you. 

„lady brighella… i didn‘t expect a harbinger visiting my charming establishment today.“, reaching over to light up yet another cigarette, while his other hand rested on one of his… lady‘s behind, you ignored the other one taking care of whatever is going on between his legs.

pig.

if it weren‘t for the sake of pierro‘s plan you would have blown this place up to bits long ago. but you needed a sample of his opium before you can follow your own ambitions regarding this dirt hole. 

nod-krai has always been known for their suspicious activity regarding drugs, weapons, sex work and unethical researches. why the tsaritsa didn‘t order the organization to shut them down for good? you don‘t often find logical reasoning within your archons plans, didn‘t need to. that‘s not why she appointed you with your title.

„i‘ve come to maybe negotiate a deal between the two of us. it has come to our attention that you‘ve been tinkering with our trading routes lately in favor of your… totally legal business.“, the last three words were laced with an undertone only a diplomat could allow themselves in this part of snezhnaya. you could see his breathing stop for the shortest moment, pupils darting around the room before he gestured the various women to get off of him.

„speak. what is your deal with us.“, he thankfully zipped up his pants rather fast. you wanted to avoid a direct look into his crotch so you rather transferred your attention to the small spider webbing it‘s way down on your shoulder.

deciding to ignore his rather disrespectful tone, you spoke up, „deal is the wrong word… perhaps an ultimatum would fit the terms i‘m about to offer you much better. we‘ll so gratefully allow you to continue to run your… extraordinary establishment if you were so kind to hand us over around…“, fifty. you needed fifty milliliters, „eighty milliliters of your finest opium.“

his jaw ticked before he decided to stand up from the plushy red sofa. he did not like that.

„you fatui scum always think you can walk in here with your ridiculous terms and deals and expect us to bow down. the least they could do is send in a fucking man instead of a stuck-up bitch. 340k or your leaving empty handed, no matter how often you swing your fancy title around.“, he took a deep inhale of his cigarette before blowing out the smoke right into your face. you merely waved it off.

you should have taken capitano with you when he offered to accompany you. however, you never needed a man‘s help to get where you are today. you certainly don’t need it now.

„340k for eighty milliliters is anything but reasonable. you want to take a moment and rethink your decision, i assure you.“, usually you‘re not a fan of letting your strength speak unlike a certain orange-haired friend of yours, but despite the temperature of the room slowly beginning to drop- well… at least they should start to drop, but the frost on the window melted away as fast as it came. and when did it start becoming so warm? either way your attempt to direct this negotiation in your favor crumbled to dust. and directly attacking was something you wanted to avoid at all costs. words it were then.

„unreasonable, you say? does 100k and my dick down your throat sound better to you, sugar?“, a shiver ran down at the sound of his sultry voice cooing right into your ear, his disgustingly warm breath which reeked of a bad oral hygiene and rotting food almost forced your breakfast back up into your mouth. and he had the audacity to lay his filthy fucking hand on your ass.

„what do you think abo-“, a crisp snap bounced off of the walls before tuning out in a far away echo. the room was suddenly engulfed in darkness as the candles on top of the crystalline chandelier were stripped of their flames. 

„am i interrupting something?“

your blood ran cold at the sound of her voice filling the room before you blinked and stared up at a pair of bloody x‘s glowing amidst the darkness as arlecchino cleared her throat and the office was drowned once again in a dim light. 

and before you was standing the knave.

her fatui coat hanging loose around her shoulders and she made sure to make use of her sudden appearance when her eyes glided over to the bastard behind you. too bad you were missing the priceless look on his face. he was shitting himself senseless.

„l-lady arlecchino-! wh-what a pleasant surprise to welcome you here today-! if i had k-known about your visit i-i would have arranged according preparations for you-! can i offer you-“

„spare me the drama, monsieur laurenz and let go of my… colleague. it‘s in everyone’s best interest.“, not waiting for his reaction, she pulled you close to her side with a grip so… gentle despite her obvious cold, almost pissed off demeanor. 

you ignored how your heart tightened at this simple touch between the two of you. how on earth did she know you were here? and why is he seemingly shitting himself at the simple sight of her?

„o-oh, i was just about to wrap up a deal with lady brighella-! girls, hundred milliliters of our finest opium, pronto-!“, as soon as laurenz clapped his hands, the ladies were out and about hurrying into the back.

„ah, then i must have had something on my eyes when your hand was touching her inappropriately just a few moments ago, right?“, if looks were deadly he would already be bleeding out on the floor by now.

feeling like a damsel in distress that just got saved from her knight in shining armor, the feeling slowly but surely turned into something… bitter… sour. she made you look like a fool who can‘t wrap up a deal all by herself without things escalating and losing the upper hand. you almost ripped your wrist free of her grip. 

you cut the monsieur off as he was about to explain himself, „he was just about to hand me over a hundred milliliters for the cheap price of 50k mora.“

arlecchino cocked an eyebrow at the number you just named.

„50k? let‘s make it 10k along with an apology to lady brighella, right monsieur?“

„i- o-oh surely-! lady brighella, i am offering my sincerest apologies for my inappropriate behavior and remarks-!“, even when he bowed down to you, you could see the visible drops of sweat that formed on his bald head.

just what did that woman do to him that reduced this arrogant douchebag to nothing more than a stuttering idiot?

because it turned you on.

„it‘s whatever… but i appreciate your forthcomings a lot…“, your voice came out bitter, despite the perfect outcome. it made you look like you needed her. and you didn‘t. never. at least thats the lie you believed to be true.

when the workers finally came back carrying a wooden boy wrapped in a fancy golden ribbon, it was time for you get the hell out of here.

„monsieur, make sure the lady makes it out of here safely. i still have some personal business to take care of with you.“

„that won‘t be necessary, but thank you, arlecchino. i‘ll see myself out on my own.“

you noticed her clenched jaw almost immediately. your refusal didn‘t seem to sit well with her. good.

once back in your laboratory, you didn‘t waste any time and got to work on your researches. measuring around ten milliliters of the opium in one of your graduated cylinders as the bone marrow mixture boiled over the bunsen burner in the corner while you wrote down every single one of your observations. you still had to mix up some other stuff that‘s sitting neatly organized on the iron table in front of you. 

if it were a normal evening you would have gone to bed long ago.

but today was anything but an ordinary day. you couldn‘t stop thinking about the recent events in nod-krai. couldn‘t shake the feeling of your body growing hot and needy at the bare presence of arlecchino. and my god you hated it. you hated how your body betrayed you in every way when it came to her. you didn‘t want to feel this way towards her. didn‘t want this weakness in your profile any longer. being near her felt like offering a recovering alcoholic a glass of wine. 

your worries were consuming you to a point where you didn‘t notice the door to your laboratory opening and shutting again. softly.

„we need to talk. please…“

you didn‘t flinch at the sudden interruption. merely paused your movements for a brief second before continuing.

„go home, arle. there is nothing to talk about.“

„i am home.“

you set the erlenmeyer flask back down on the table before you dropped it on accident. or crushed it on purpose.

„no need to lie to yourself. not when it‘s just the two of us.“

„the least you could do is look me in the eyes instead of turning your back to me.“, you did not turn around. nor did you answer her. not because you didn‘t want to. but it‘s hard to form any words when your heart is almost jumping out of your chest. stupid, stupid heart.

for a good few seconds arlecchino kept quiet. it‘s like waiting for a storm to come.

„a simple thank you for my help back in nod-krai would have sufficed.“

now whipping your head around, the words spilled out faster from your mouth than you could have stopped them.

„thanking you for what? making me look like a stupid coward?! well, thank you, o holy knave for helping me make a fool out of myself! now get the fuck out of my lab.“, your words were dripping with anger. your heart now racing for completely different reasons as you tried stabbing her with your eyes.

but arlecchino was unmoved. if it weren‘t for the agonizing look in her face. 

„i did not make you look like a coward. you were in need of help. i happened to be the-“

„you made me look weak.“, your bare tone could have cut through the thickest steel with ease. 

„…we both know that‘s a blatant lie.“

„just like you lied to me when you promised to find me again. and now you‘re just tossing me aside-“

„stop it with the accusations, i did not-“

„you tossed me aside. you took someone else to bed and you‘ve been the reason for every single one of my problems in the past damned weeks and yet-“, you nearly didn‘t notice how your feet dragged you towards her, „you have the nerve to stand before me, berate me and act like you didn‘t rip my heart out, peruere!“, your voice cracked as you raised your voice at her. merely a few inches seperating the space between you and arle looked… besotted with you. her breath came out shaking as she eyed you down with a glimmer so gentle and lovingly in them that it caused you to take step back from her. 

„s-say something… fucking hell arle, say something…!“, the anger boiling beneath your skin slowly turning into something akin to embarrassment, causing your cheeks to slowly start flushing in a dark red.

„say… say it again…“, her words barely came out as a whisper.

„i-i beg your pardon…?“

„my name. say it again…“, a cursed hand suddenly grabbed after your wrist to pull you back closer to her. gentle. light enough for you to pull away if you pleased.

but you didn‘t.

„arle-“

„not that one…“, you could hear how trembled her breath came out when she slowly bent down to your face.

every signal inside your body screamed at you to pull away. to smack her across the face. to not let her red-painted lips touch your uncolored ones.

but your heart betrayed you once again.

„peruere…“

she was over you in an instant. lips coming crashing down on yours as she pushed you backwards until your ass met the edge of the table. tongue pushing its way into your mouth as her hands cupped your face so sickenly tender as if she was scared you‘d pull away if her grip dared to get too tight. she tasted so sweet. of love, desire and all the things you‘ve missed in the past weeks. she licked up the mixed spit covering your chin before plunging right back onto your lips. your moans getting mixed up in the crash of unspoken apologies and a love that never had the chance to fully start blooming.

she was quick to put you up on the table but not before carelessly shoving any obstacles out of her. a glass shattered on the floor. you didn‘t care when her fingers hooked underneath the hem of your pants.

„lift… kiss lift your hips for me…“, she moves the attention down to your neck as you oblige with a hum, now peppering desperate, wet kisses all over your skin down to your torso until the fabric has been removed just enough for your legs to shake them off. 

you could feel her smile against your sweaty skin before working up your shirt over your breasts that were covered in a plain white bra.

she still licked her lips at the sight.

„so beautiful…“, your stomach flared up at her longing gaze before a black hand went around your back to open up the hindrance on your chest, merely shoving it up to expose your already hardened nipples to her sight. she loved it. loved how bare you looked underneath her. how your body was already overheating and the stain on your panties she noticed earlier… it made it so easy for her to slip a hand in your panties. she never stopped clipping those two specific nails. thank celestia.

„the distance between us nearly killed me, doll.“, you moaned as her lips engulfed your nipple while two of her fingers slipped so easily inside of your wetness. you were already pulsating around her by the time her digits found your weak spot. you arched into her, fingers running through her silky hair as you gasped for each time she so effortlessly rubbed your inner walls to mush. 

your tit was long covered in her lipstick and spit by the time she switched sides. biting, nibbling and sucking at you, it just didn‘t seem to stop for her, or you.

when deciding she paid girls enough attention she moved back up to your face, lips hovering just a few millimeters above yours.

„ride my hand, pretty girl… c‘mon now, you can do that for me…“, with another devilish curl of her fingers you started moving your hips in sync with the movements of her hand. your moans bouncing off the tiled walls and right into her handsome face. she only smiled down at you.

„just like that… look at how tightly you‘re gripping my fingers…“, with another hit to your sensitive spot you creamed over her fingers, her name falling like a desperate prayer from your lips as you covered her in your arousal.

arle cooed, letting you ride it all out on her hand as you felt the weight fall off of your heart along with your climax. you were never aware how much you needed that. needed that from her. how much you needed peruere to shower you face in gentle kisses as her fingers leave your warmth before she made you watch as she licked your slick of her fingers. groaning at the taste of you. and she wanted needed more of that. but before she could sink down onto her knees before you, you stopped.

„d-do you really think you deserve that…?“

„e-excuse me…?“, her eyes darted down to your soaked slip and back up to your face. she felt like she was gonna burn from the inside out of she couldn‘t bury her tongue into you in the next seconds.

„do you… deserve to eat after what you‘ve done…?“.

you were talking about isabella.

„i… no… no, i don‘t…“, peruere almost looked ashamed at the memories she recalled. she hated herself for that night. and you knew it.

„was she better than-“

„no.“

„hm…“

arlecchino sighed as she leaned her face against your inner thigh, „please… believe me when i tell you this… she was nothing more than a distraction, she meant nothing to me- i promise i‘ll make it up to you however i can, just- please, [name]…“, she almost let a whimper slip when you sighed.

„th-then go ahead- Ah-!“, you didn‘t remember her being this face, tongue gathering your juices in her mouth as she eagerly swallowed. it almost made you think she starved herself of any nutrients the way her groans were swallowed by your soft flesh. she was eating. with her whole heart. your slick dripping from her chin down to her neck as a pair of two strong hands kept quivering legs pressed apart. were you always so sensitive? or why were you nearly screaming over her bare tongue? your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen, you just couldn‘t get enough of it in between all the moans and gasps leaving your mouth. praying to celestia that she left your pussy intact and functioning was the only option left for you. you don‘t interrupt someone mid feast.

you tugged at her hair when you came all the way over her tongue, soft sobs starting leave your mouth at the overwhelming sensation but she didn‘t stop. it was like she was stuck in her own world which consisted of only two things: her mouth and your cunt.

eating was starting to feel wrong. she devoured you. nose deeply nuzzled into your puffy clit while she made sure her tongue left you disoriented each time she fucked it right back into you.

bon appletea or whatever you used to say back at the hearth.

suddenly her movements slowed down as she just merely whimpered against you. you could feel her rapid breaths against your wetness when she pulled away from me. she was panting.

„did… d-did you just…“, you watched her slowly get back up from between your legs, her jacket stained in your fluids which… looked oddly good on her…

„yes. what about it.“, not a single ounce of shame visible in her face. unbelievable.

you sighed as she grabbed a few tissues from a package that‘s been resting on the table before she started cleaning her face and neck up. compared to you she still looked put together if it weren’t for the messed up hair and the pussy stains on her clothes.

„are you already done…?“

she paused. looking you down before she got to work on opening up her tie.

„of course not.“

you will have a talk with her about everything tomorrow.

[floylia]

# MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾

20. New Year’s Resolution

NOTES:

situationship final boss:

SYNOPSIS: There’s a line Childe knows he shouldn’t cross; A line built on years of friendship; A line that happens to cross you, his best friend’s younger sister, grieving her first love; A line where he plays savior, wears a halo, then feign ignorance, because love is a game for fools—and he happens to be the biggest idiot when it comes to love.

When a new stranger invades your life and an old poet writes back

CHILDE x FEM!READER

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[reocidal]

FILM DIVA!

PAIRING ALHAITHAM X GN!READER

WARNINGS alhaitham gets hit by one (1) (soft) (cardboard) popcorn bucket, one (1) instance of swearing. romcom ish? vibes?

WORD COUNT 703

AUTHOR'S NOTE um. haha whats this @phantasmaebg

ALHAITHAM has always lived his life in black and white, clear cut rules and a perfect routine. he has no need for the mundane "joys" of everyday life, or whatever kaveh's been harping about most recently. he'd made that clear to himself — and everyone else — on his first day at the akademiya. he's skipped lunch dates and dinner dates and movie dates and hangouts with his friends (they're not his friends, he says) in lieu of studying more. black and white, study and sleep, that's all he needs in his life.

he thinks it's only fitting that you waltz unapologetically into his life, whimsical splashes of colour and noise as a sick sort of karma afterwards. you're loud and bright and your blood (he assumes) is liquid rainbows and you're everything he isn't. you're also dragging him to a movie theatre right now, and he really doesn't want to go.

there's a permanent scowl etched onto his face, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black hoodie. you'd told him to dress casual, and then gone through his entire closet when he'd opened the door in something appropriate only for the most depressing and sombre of funerals. after a lengthy consultation with "the committee", as you claimed — he thinks you just spoke to the other voices in your head — you'd come up with the most casual of outfits possible in his (rather hopeless) case. a dark hoodie, and even darker jeans.

"seriously, dude, get something nicer," you'd grumbled, and he'd glared at you in response, but the mental note was still made.

you're quite the contrast to him — what colour even is this? chartreuse? whatever you're wearing is absolutely hideous and would make anyone wearing it look even worse, but not you. never you, apparently. he really hates his brain, but you're positively glowing in this lettuce-coloured garbage bag.

the movie is boring; he prefers to look at you instead — though he'd never say that out loud. the micromovements of your face, the expressions that you make, bathed in the ever-changing multi-coloured light of the screen — it's all a thousand times more intriguing than whatever's going on in the film.

halfway through the film, you turn to him accusingly. "you're not paying attention!"

"i am," he protests, although without any effort to actually oppose your claim. you raise an unconvinced brow and he shrugs. "not that this needs a lot of attention to be given in order to be understood. it's quite simple, actually."

"that's one of my favourite movies ever," you snort. "you shouldn't insult people like that, you shit!"

how does he fix this?

"or consider," he begins, smooth, placating. "the simplicity of the film is the exact reason why it appeals to you. it provides you the comfort that you yearn for without making you feel the discomfort of having to use your brain."

"are you calling me dumb, alhaitham?"

he grimaces. "no, y/n, you're very smart. really."

unfortunately, he also accidentally uses his comfort unruly children voice and not his i am being sooo serious voice.

your empty popcorn carton hits him square in the jaw. he picks it off the floor (no littering!) and rubs his face with his free hand. "this was somewhat unnecessary, don't you think, y/n?"

"thanks for the heads up," you reply, rather unremorsefully. "it'll probably happen again."

he's never been happier to be alone with you, he decides. better to be embarrassed alone than in front of an audience. wait, technically he's the audience here, right? how confusing; he hates to think about it. the rest of the movie passes rather uneventfully — he pays a little more attention than before, and you tone down the physical violence to only one or two jabs that you declare are accidental. (he knows they're not.) on the way home, you buy him an ice pack and a meat stew: PIZZA edition; 40% off! as an apology.

back at home, alhaitham thinks it over and decides that he does not hate you at all. after all your antics today, it concerns him tremendously. surely… surely not. he doesn't do romance; this is impossible! yet, a pale flush spreads across his face all the same.

© reocidal 2024

[veewritesforfun]

Passing notes in secrecy… Pt. 3

in which you pass notes with your boyfriend, Alhaitham, during lectures

warnings: none

Pt. 1

Pt. 2

[fivrilio]

non yan/cult! sagau with a creator who's overly dramatic 😓

"Can you gimme that?"

"Which one, your holiness?"

"the pencil."

"sure." *holds out the pencil to grab*

"Augh!- How dare you stab me?! this is humiliating! You dare stab your own god?!" *dramatic gasp and not-so-great fake fainting*

"...The eraser side is pointing at you."

"Oh."

[nelle-y]

A love story told through voicelines (V)

C/W: slow-burn, Diluc x gn!reader, reader works at the flower shop in Mondstadt, fluff, shorter than the rest but that’s because it’s the end

Note: The story comes to a close! Thank you all so much for your support, I couldn’t have done it without you guys🫶🏻 If you have some ideas for other fics, feel free to leave a request in my inbox! (Part 1) (Part 4)

(You) About Diluc: Reflections

I’ve been thinking a lot about our fight. I don’t know if it was the heat of the moment or my own pride, but I said things I shouldn’t have. I called him stubborn, like his concern for me was some kind of flaw. He didn’t deserve that!

But when he called me reckless… it stung. I wanted to defend myself, to tell him I could handle it, but deep down, I knew he was right. I was reckless. I got hurt because I wasn’t careful, and instead of thanking him for worrying about me, I threw it back in his face.

I know he was just trying to protect me. That’s who he is—he takes on the weight of the world, and I made it even heavier with my words. I was so caught up in proving I didn’t need him hovering over me that I forgot how much he cares.

If I could go back, I’d say something different. Or maybe… I’d just listen. He didn’t deserve my anger. He deserved better.

(Diluc) About you: Reflections

My thoughts are quite repetitive when it comes to them, and maybe that’s how I drove them away—by caring more about their safety instead of them. I didn’t mean to hurt them, but seeing the scar on their arm reminds me of how much I could lose with one careless act. It was unbearable. And I let that fear dictate my words.

I know I can be overbearing. They’ve told me before that I control too much, and that I was… incredibly stubborn. Maybe they’re right. I wanted to protect them, but I didn’t stop to think about how they felt, what they needed from me in that moment. I acted as if I knew best, and in doing so, I ignored the trust we’ve built.

If I could go back, I’d handle it differently. I’d find the right words, words that wouldn’t hurt them. But now… all I can do is hope I haven’t broken something I can’t repair.

(You) About work

I’ve been trying to get back into the rhythm of working at Flora’s shop, but… it feels strange. The flowers are the same, the customers are the same, but something feels off. Maybe it’s me. Or maybe it’s the weight of everything that happened at the manor. I keep catching myself glancing toward the road leading to Angel’s Share, wondering if he’s okay, or if… he even cares.

*sigh* I need to focus. These asters aren’t going to arrange themselves.

(Diluc) About you: From afar

I passed by Flora’s shop today, and I saw them working as usual, but… quieter. Seeing them brought it all back—those quiet moments at the winery, their laughter, the way they always managed to surprise me. It’s unbearable, how much I miss them.

I almost stepped in, but quickly retreated. What would I even say? “I’m sorry”? Would that even matter by now? I’m sure they’re mad at me—maybe furious. And I’m sure… if I could change anything, I would change even the night I resigned from my position as Cavalry Captain if it meant bringing them back.

(You) About Diluc: Finally aware

I saw him today, you know. Well, not saw as in meet with—he just passed by. He didn’t come in; though strangely, I took a step in his direction. Out of habit, I suppose. I don’t think he noticed me… and why would he? After everything… Ugh! Why am I still dwelling on it? It’s not like I’m waiting for him or anything.

He’s just so… stuck. In my mind. I keep hoping to see him, even just for a moment. I miss eating with him, and trying to make him laugh. I miss the flowers that we took care of in the winery. I miss Adelinde.

I miss him…

And it’s infuriating, because I was the one who left. I needed space. I chose to leave the winery because it felt like too much. So why? Why does he linger like this? Why does every passing memory of him feel so sharp, so close, like it was yesterday?

I don’t know what this is. I thought leaving would bring me peace, but it’s only made me realize how deeply he’s rooted in me. I don’t know if I can ever let him go, even if I should.

…Could it be? Could this feeling—this aching pull—be love?

No… not could. It is. I love him.

(Diluc) About you: Finally aware

I need your thoughts on something. It’s… rather personal. For some time now, I’ve found myself increasingly distracted by them—always thinking about their safety, their well-being, even their smallest habits. Every little thing they do seems to pull at my attention. At first, I dismissed it as concern, but it’s different—stronger.

When I spoke to Adelinde about it, she said it sounded like love. Love. I… I don’t know what to make of that. But the more I think about it, the more everything starts to make sense—why I can’t stand the thought of them being hurt, why their smile lingers in my mind long after they’re gone.

I’ve even gone as far as to read about it in novels from Inazuma, though I’ll admit most of them are overly dramatic. Still… I couldn’t help but see myself in the pages. And now I can’t ignore it anymore.

This is love, isn’t it? I can’t believe it took me so long to realize. But… it’s oddly comforting, too, to finally understand why I feel this way. It all feels clearer now.

… I can’t let it end like this. I’ll speak to them, no matter what it takes.

(You and Diluc) Character story: Confessions

The day was drawing to a close, and the horizon burned with hues of amber and crimson as the sun dipped below the mountains. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting.

They didn’t know why they were running—only that their feet carried them forward. Wind gracing their hair, tugging at their clothes, and each breath coming quick and sharp with the patter of their feet. Were they running to the winery? They haven’t really thought about it. They were just chasing the closest thing that felt like home.

Inside the manor, Diluc sat at his desk, quill hovering over an unfinished report. He’d been staring at the same sentence for far too long, his mind elsewhere. His eyes kept straying to the lamp grass resting in a small vase—“For when nights are long, and the weight feels heavy—may these remind you that you’re not alone.”

In a breath, the quill laid flat on his desk, ink leaving a stain that may or may not come off. He didn’t care, though—he had other business to attend to. One that could change his life, for better or for worse.

As he ran, he thought of what to say. He’d gone over the words a dozen times in his head, but nothing ever seemed quite right. Every thought felt too small, too simple to convey the storm of emotions swirling inside him.

The crimson sky had turned to blue, stars slowly forming like the constellations they once had. They both remembered that night—their head on his shoulder with only nature to accompany them, silent, and sanctified.

The moon hung low in the sky by the time they crossed paths on the dirt road. Neither had planned for this exact moment, yet it felt inevitable, as if fate itself had intervened.

They stopped a few paces apart, both breathless—Diluc from his hurried strides, and them from their sprint. For a moment, neither spoke. The quiet hum of the wind wrapped around them, heavy with all the words they hadn’t yet said.

“I…” they muttered, but their voice caught. After a breath or two, they spoke again: “I didn’t think I’d run into you.”

“I could say the same.” Diluc’s eyes softened as the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “Though… perhaps I hoped for it.”

Their breath hitched at his words, and they looked away, unsure of what to say. They hadn’t expected this—hadn’t pictured him to be so calm, so open. The reality of seeing him here, in the flesh, was almost overwhelming.

“I don’t even know why I came,” they confessed, voice trembling. “I just… I missed—“ they hesitated admitting they missed him. It terrified them—how one word could strip away everything they’d worked so hard to hide, yet hold the power to give them everything they wanted.

They swallowed hard, the silence between them growing heavier, and tried again. “I missed… the winery. Adelinde. The flowers. The peace of it all.”

But the lie tasted bitter, and they knew he saw through it. Diluc waited, silent and patient, as though he knew the truth would come, in time.

“I missed you,” they finally whispered, their voice breaking. The confession escaped before they could stop it, leaving them vulnerable and exposed. Their heart raced, the fear of rejection and relief of honesty crashing into each other.

“I’m sorry…” they added, one reckless word after the other. “For being so careless, for not understanding that you were only trying to protect me—for everything.

“I thought I did the right thing, leaving the manor. I told myself I needed space. But since then, all I can think about was you. I couldn’t stop looking forward to our lunch dates, to the moments you’d pass by the flower shop, to even catching a glimpse of that slight smirk of yours.

“And it’s all so infuriating,” they continued, voice gaining strength, yet still trembling with frustration and longing. “Because I look at you with that unreadable expression of yours, and it’s like you don’t care. You’re always so calm, so distant, like nothing ever fazes you. It’s maddening!

“Even when we were together, it was the same. You always tried to shoulder everything alone, hiding behind that stoic exterior. I could never tell if you were trying to protect me or push me away. And now…” Their voice wavered, and they dropped their gaze, overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions spilling out. “Now, I don’t even know if you missed me at all. Or if I was just someone you had to look after.”

They hadn’t noticed how Diluc closed the gap between them until they felt a gloved hand caress their hair. “I cared.” They looked up at him with a somber expression. “More than I should. And I still do.” Diluc’s eyes had changed. The unreadable mask they had always found so frustrating had slipped, replaced by something raw and vulnerable.

“I tried to convince myself it was better this way,” he continued, his voice low but steady. “That keeping my distance would protect you—from the burdens I carry, and the dangers that follow me. And though I wasn’t completely wrong,” he put attention to your scarred arm. “Pushing you away felt worse. For both of us.”

He hesitated, his thumb brushing against their cheek as if grounding himself. “You were never just someone I had to look after. You are… everything I’ve been too afraid to lose. I thought keeping my feelings buried would keep you safe, but all it did was drive you away.”

His voice softened further, but the intensity of his words only grew. “I can’t bury it anymore. I won’t.”

Their breath hitched, tears pooling in their eyes as he stepped closer, his other hand reaching to gently hold theirs. His grip was firm, steady, and yet full of care—just like him.

“You have undone me completely,” he said, his voice shaking with the weight of his emotions, “and I have no desire to be put back together.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and profound, and the sincerity in his eyes left no room for doubt. In that moment, the barriers between them shattered, replaced by a warmth that enveloped them both.

Tears slipped down their cheeks, but they smiled through them, their heart full for the first time in what felt like forever. “I’ve been undone, too,” they whispered, fragile yet filled with hope. “And I don’t want to be whole without you.”

The stars above, as well as the wind, bore witness as they stood there, hands entwined, finally allowing their hearts to speak what had been unsaid for far too long.

—end—

[dem6nart]

I numbered it, so hopefully, it's not too confusing. I thought about adding words, but idk how to write LOL

BTW I didn't forget about my mouthwashing piece, just doing sketches, I might color this one

[withering-bloom]

Shattered promises

—————————————————————

Hiiii :3 this is my first ever fanfic on here and I wanted to dedicate it to my lovely husband, Arlecchino. This was extremely rushed and I’m very sorry if it isn’t any good 😭😭

Arlecchino x female reader, implied cheating, angst, kinda proofread??? Arlecchino is the readers husband because I say so, slight cussing

—————————————————————

I stand there, unphased in the doorway, staring at her. At Arlecchino. My heart feels like it’s been ripped out and squeezed dry, and yet… there she is,sitting in front of me, her usual cold mask in place.

The room is quiet except for the faint ticking of the clock placed on the wall directly above the Mantel and the soft hum of the fire crackling within the room.My skin feels as if it was burning contrasted to the coldness of the blood flowing throughout my veins—but right now the air feels colder than I could of imagined.

“Arlecchino,” I say her name, but it feels foreign on my tongue. I don’t even know what I mean by it. There’s no warmth in my voice, no love. I’m too far gone for that now.

She doesn’t look at me right away. She’s too busy, too focused on whatever it is she’s doing, her eyes locked on the stack of papers on the desk in front of her. It’s always like this, isn’t it? Always work. Always something more important than me.

I try to breathe, but it feels like the air has thickened. I can’t catch my breath. I want to speak—to say something, anything—but I don’t know where to begin.

I hate how small I feel at this moment. How small I always feel when I’m around her as if I’m nothing but an accessory to her.

“I’ve been waiting for you, y/n,” she finally says, her voice low but edged with something I can’t quite place.She takes a moment to study my face as a frustrated sigh escapes the woman’s lips, “what's the matter with you now? Why are you upset.”

I shake my head, trying to steady myself. “You think I’m upset?” I laugh, bitterly, but the sound feels hollow in the empty space between us. “You really think this is about me?”

She doesn’t respond immediately. She just looks at me, her expression guarded. And it pisses me off. I don’t know why it should, but it does. She’s sitting there, so detached, like none of this matters to her. Like none of us matter.

“I saw the way you looked at her,” I continue, my voice quieter now, feeling a wave of regret washing over my body after those words left my mouth, but they feel sharper than anything I’ve ever said in a long time. I can feel the burn in my chest, the way my heart is splintering into jagged pieces. “I saw it, Arlecchino.”

Her gaze shifts, just a flicker of recognition crossing her face, but she quickly masks it. “It wasn’t like that,” she says, but even as she speaks, her X’d shaped pupils avoid mine. She looks towards the crackling fire instead, as though she can’t bear the weight of my confrontation.

“It wasn’t like that?” I echo, feeling the heaviness of each word. “Then why the hell does it feel like it was? Why does it feel like you’ve been lying to me? Why does it feel like everything we built together is just… nothing?” I lift my hand, showing the red gemmed ring towards her, “does this promise mean nothing to you?”

I move closer towards her desk, a desperate, reckless impulse taking hold of me. “You promised me, Arlecchino. You promised you wouldn’t leave me behind. You promised me that we were meant for eachother . And now I don’t even recognize the person in front of me.”

She takes a deep breath, her jaw clenched tight. For a second, I think she might say something—anything that will make this feel like it matters. But instead, she simply reaches for the stack of papers again, her hands cold, steady.

“I don’t need you to understand,” she says softly. Her voice is flat, distant. It hits me like a slap. “I never needed you to understand.Nor do I need you to pry into my business. She’s a colleague. There’s nothing going on so I suggest you drop this matter.”

My chest tightens at her words. “Stop fucking bullshitting me” I exclaim, my voice trembling with a mix of hurt and disbelief. “What kind of colleague holds your face like that? What kind of colleague looks at you the way she did? Because it sure as hell wasn’t just some professional exchange.”

I can feel the weight of every word as I speak them, like stones settling deep into the pit of my stomach. Her gaze doesn’t waver, but I can see the subtle flicker behind her eyes—annoyance, frustration, maybe even guilt—but she won’t let it show. Not fully.

“Drop it,” she demands, her voice now sharp, her eyes narrowing. “I’ve told you. There’s nothing to worry about.”

The air of the room only continues to thicken as my brows furrow together “Nothing to worry about?” I scoff bitterly, stepping forward in front of her chair, my fists clenching at my sides. “How am I supposed to believe that, Arlecchino? After everything? After all the times I’ve tried to stand by your side, tried to understand the world you live in, only for you to push me away like this?”

She doesn’t respond right away, but I can feel her tense up, her shoulders stiffening under the weight of my words. She knows what I’m saying. She knows exactly how much this is breaking me. But she won’t let herself care. Not like I do.

“I’m not one of your orphans, Arlecchino,” I whisper, my voice cracking slightly. “I’m not someone who can just be discarded when it’s convenient. I’m your wife. Your partner.” I take the time to analyse her body language, but she doesn’t turn around. “I deserve more than this cold distance.”

She still doesn’t look at me. But I can see the sharp inhale she takes, the way her fingers twitch against the papers on the desk as if she’s trying to control something inside her.

For a moment, everything goes still. The only sound is the fire crackling in the room, like it’s mocking the emptiness in the space between us.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, though the words feel like a lie coming from my lips. It’s like I’m trying to convince both of us that things can be fixed. That she can come back to me. But I’m not sure she ever will. I’m not sure if I’ll ever get my husband back. The woman that promised me the world.

The silence drags on, heavy and suffocating, settling in like a weight I can’t escape. Arlecchino doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even glance in my direction. It’s like I’m not even here, like I never mattered. I don’t know how much longer I can keep fighting for us when she’s already turned her back on me, both in every unspoken word and every cold, calculated gesture. It feels like I’m suffocating in the absence of her—like she’s already gone, and I’m just too blind to see it.

And so, like a fool,I stand there, more alone than I’ve ever felt, my chest tight with the effort of holding back the tears that threaten to spill. I try to keep up the façade, forcing myself to believe I’m not as weak as she’s made me feel. She’s shaped me into this—this woman who relies on her, who gave up everything to be the mother, the wife. I don’t know how I became this version of myself, but I can’t stop it now.

As my eyes pierce into her, I begin to believe for the first time, I wonder if we’re already too far gone.

————————————————————————

THIS WAS SO SHITTY. IM SO SORRY I HATE WRITING ANGST BUT I LOST A BET AND I HAD TO WRITE THIS. But please send requests and I’ll be sure to write a different fluff fanfic soon!!!

[kunikukitty]

⛸️ WALTZ ON THIN ICE

04. Say what?! ◁ II ▷

Your gaze lingered on the dark clouds that adorned the night sky through the thick windowpane of the airplane.

You are on deep thought and your phone on your hand goes unnoticed along with Heizou's messages displayed on your screen that you're now unable to reply to due to the lack of signal on the air.

You breathed a sigh of exhaustion and decided to look over the photos of ice skates you saved on your phone. There is a competition you will be attending with Heizou, and you two were preparing for it for a long time. Although the choreo is not yet complete, it's looking amazing so far. This preparation was postponed for a awhile because if your trip to Sumeru, and now you're excited to carry it on.

Since your current skates are losing ankle support and additionally wanting to reward yourself for all the effort you've put on the upcoming event, you're planning to buy a new pair of skates.

You're staring at the photos. Which one should you get? There are many types of skates and each supports different techniques. You twirl more than jump, so that's one thing to consider.

Though right now, you feel a little off. What's wrong with Heizou? He wasn't like this when you left for Sumeru. Should you have asked him to tag along?

There was a series of questions that bothers your mind. But well! You could just ask him later. But you cant help but get upset with the tweet he made. Was he disappointed that you're going home earlier than planned? But you wanted to prepare for the huge event.

You've always wanted to skate at Tenshukaku Palace, the hugest and prettiest ice rink in the entire inazuma. In your long years of skating, you've only just gotten the chance to skate there. You were able to visit it once, but only as part of the audience.

This is a big dream come true for both you and Heizou. This will also give you more exposure. Heck, this event is your ticket to Snezhnaya. If you did well here, you can get a Snezhnayan coach— claiming that you are excited would be an understatement.

Of course, you're not saying Coach Ayato is bad! He's great, and he helped you a lot. But Snezhnayan Coaches are different. They are much more fierce, intimidating, and can get you to the highest peaks of your career.

Snezhnayan skaters are simply the masters of ice skating.

Your cheeks were tainted pink as you daydream about your choreo with heizou. This piece will be marked as your most mature-themed choreo with him, and will be performed in Tenshukaku of all places.

Luckily, you're both so comfortable with each other that this theme is no longer an issue. You could only giggle at the memory wherein Heizou was a little hesitant to touch you when you just met him.

So when the pilot announced that the airplane will land soon, your excitement grew tenfold.

It doesn't matter if Heizou has a fault on you, you could just ask him for an ice cream and you'd forgive him. What's important right now is the preparation!

You're holding your luggage and a handheld bag on your other hand as you descend from the airstair.

Your eyes looked at every corner, neck twisted on this side and that side, trying to catch a glimpse of a certain redhead.

You're beginning to feel restless when you can't find him, so you decided to walk more, only to abruptly stop when you felt something cold on your cheek.

"I've been calling your name since earlier. Didn't you hear me?"

This is wrong. The voice is deeper, the tone lacks the usual touch of playfulness— this isn't Heizou. You shifted your head to confirm who it is after he moved whatever he's holding out of the way.

"Xiao!" You exclaimed, shocked. "What? Why, where's Heizou?"

"What the. Why when I finally decided to use the restroom, your plane landed."

Not Heizou either. It's Xingqui, and he's walking alone. Where's Heizou???

Xingqui took the handle of your luggage from your hand to pull it to his side and asked how's your flight. But you can't seem to hear anything right now. A hand waved in front of you, you don't know who it belongs to, but it aint from the man you're looking for.

Is he actually... not looking forward to your arrival?

"That asshole!" You heard Xingqui complain, "I thought he told you beforehand. I'm sorry, [Name], but for whatever circumstances, he cannot fetch you right now."

Oh! So maybe he said "uh oh" because of this? He can't fetch you himself? But why, and why he didn't just tell you?

"Here. He asked us to give this to you."

You looked at Xiao and realized that the cold thing is a drink and on his other hand is a box. And from the appearance of the box, you know exactly what it is.

"A cake!" you exclaimed excitedly— he really knows how to win you over with sweet stuffs. You took the box and the drink from Xiao's hand and said thank you before they led you to his car.

Taglist. @sketcheeee @urlocalheizousimp @sayakaskokofish @toastedfailure @swivi @glowmary @thewindandthestars @solstice-throne @lily-lmao @dxrling-xing @lalalaloveallmydays @zuhahearts @crimxeorcremeexistspeacefully @3lectraheart @woofwoofwolf @eternallykira-143 @scaraenthusiast1 @v4lerixxq @euphoraia

Note. i made a mistake on their conversation on the previous chapter. but to avoid confusion, i decided to just insert the 'fixed' convo on this chapter rather than creating a new separate chap 03.

Note. i used usernames from the taglist! i hope yall dont mind. but if you do, pls tell me and ill remove it immediately.

[floylia]

𝐈𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊 🖋️

Entry #02: Riding with Death

“Fire will attract more attention than any other cry for help.” — Jean-Michel Basquiat

—S. MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

“To the little friend, without a heart:

In walls where knowledge sleeps,

Monsters dwell in paper heaps.

Kept in time, lost to flames

Play with me, these silly games.

Are you the winner or the mind in chains?

String along the smartest brains,

Be the one without a heart

Play out the missing parts

Help the girl with ears of lies

Heed the whispers, take the signs,

The rules are fluid, make your move,

Until the flowers sway with groove,”

“What is this corny shit?” Sethos chuckles, but it’s an uncomfortable kind. The kind where you’re forced to laugh at a joke a teacher makes just to keep them from starting the lesson.

You take the hand off the table, examining it, before grabbing the ring. You’ve seen it before. You don’t know where. But it gleams in familiarity, until you notice a name carved from within, “Makoto.”

“Fuck.” Aether whispers after seeing the same thing as you.

Scaramouche grabs it. He doesn’t say anything. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking. There’s no frown, confusion, just a stale expression, offering nothing–and somehow, it makes you feel a pit in your stomach with a realization that you know nothing about this man.

“I didn’t sign up for this,” Aether breaks the silence, “Is this a prank? It’s pretty twisted.”

Sethos pulls his phone out, “I’m going to call Cyno.”

“No one is going to call anybody,” Scaramouche says as he takes the ring with him, grabs his leather jacket and walks towards the door.

“Where are you going?” You ask.

But he doesn’t answer.

So, you follow.

You walk alongside him. It’s hard to keep up as if he’s deliberately trying to lose your pace, “What are you doing?”

“You talk too much.”

“You don’t talk enough.”

“I just don’t talk to you.”

“I noticed.”

“That’s the point.”

It’s unfortunate that the elevator in the apartment is out of service. Instead, you’re forced to race down the flight of stairs. But it’s not your feet that hurt. It’s the honesty of his words. The harsh truth that’s sometimes more painful than people’s blatant lies.

You may know nothing about him anymore. But you’re aware of one thing: the spite he harbors towards you. Perhaps that counts for something.

Without realizing, you reach the lobby, and Scaramouche walks to the receptionist. There’s no one there. Just an empty desk.

“Venti,” Scaramouche rings the bell obnoxiously, and a boy with teal strands jumps in his seat, almost dropping the chips he was eating.

“What? Did someone die?” The teal haired boy said urgently.

Not the right choice of words, you think.

“Not yet,” Scaramouche answers.

Even worse.

Scaramouche runs a hand through his silky hair. Even while frustrated, he still looks angelic. It’s hard not to admit that he has grown from the last time you saw him. You’ve always watched his life progress through a screen, thinking that you can still have a piece of his life in your eyes. But now that you’re here, it’s as if the box itself has the same name, yet the puzzle inside has become unrecognizable that the pieces don’t fit anymore.

“Look, did you see the person that delivered a package to my apartment?”

Venti squints at the ceiling, trying to remember, “You have a mailbox.”

“I know. But someone delivered it directly outside my apartment.”

The teal-haired boy looks at the guest list–it’s not a long list, but somehow he still struggles, “It says that they’re affiliated with the Komaniya Express. They were wearing a black helmet, so I didn’t see their faces. It might have been a guy. But I know that he didn’t go past the lobby–so there should be no reason for a package to be outside your door.”

Scaramouche looks at you.

And you knew exactly why.

You nod, silently telling your friend, if you can call him one, that the receptionist is telling the truth. You feel a sense of triumph as you try to stop the small smile creeping up your face.

Scaramouche walks away from the front desk before approaching the postal room. He opens his, and sees a gold lighter with the phrase, “Play with me these silly games.” carved in perfect calligraphy.

“Is there a way we can see the CCTV in the lobby?” You ask Venti who is still leaning comfortably in his chair.

“Yes,” He pauses, “But it’s broken.”

Scaramouche appears next to you, “What about the ones in the hallways?”

“There’s none in the hallways.”

You hear it then. The scratching static noise when someone chooses to twist their words. You hear it everyday. Some are louder than others, depending on how severe the lie is.

This one is regular.

“Are you serious?” Scaramouche rubs the bridge of his nose. His patience is wearing out. You’re surprised he has any left.

Venti nods with confidence, “Yes.”

You shake your head, “He’s lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Venti.” Scaramouche threatens and his stare isn’t playing around.

In an instance, the teal haired boy scratches his hair and puts his hand up in defeat, “Okay fine, It’s broken. Why do you care anyway? What happened?”

“Why is everything broken?” You mumble.

“It broke last night, leave me alone. I just called for service this morning.”

You laugh, “Really? You should check if the phone is broken too.”

He stares at you, blinking rapidly, clearly appalled by your interrogation, “What are you? A lie detector.”

“I could be.”

Venti, sighs and starts dialing for service.

Scaramouche tilts his jaw, “Did you do this?”

“You think I did this?” You scoffed in disbelief.

“Did you?”

His accusation and doubt feels so foreign that a simple “yes” or “no” fails to reach your tongue. What kind of grudge did he hold that trust seems unrecognizable when he looks at you? He was the one that cut the line that connected both of you. So why is he acting like you let go of that thread? Why is he acting like you sunk the ship on your own? In what world did you ever stop holding on to him? His world it seems.

“No. I didn’t do this, Scaramouche. Not everything is my fault, much to your dismay.”

He clicks his tongue, “Yet, everything leads to you.”

“Have you ever looked at yourself?”

“Enough times to realize I was never the problem.”

“You should get that mirror checked.”

Venti clears his throat loudly, “Not to be that guy, but you guys can argue anywhere, but my lobby. ”

You roll your eyes, “I’m leaving.”

“Go ahead, walk away. You’re good at that.”

“Guess we have something in common.”

╰──────»»❀❀❀««──────╯

“Where have you been?” Navia comes around the corner when you arrive.

“Out,” You mumble, too drained after your conversation with Scaramouche.

“Where?” She presses.

“Old friends,” A terrible lie.

Navia’s brows shoot up, “Really?”

You nod, giving her the best reassurance you can muster. You don’t really want to explain at the moment, “Why’d you call me?”

“There’s a field trip later this afternoon. Lumine was supposed to tour the kids, but she got held up in a meeting. So, I was wondering if you can cover that for her.”

“Sure,” you shrug.

She hands you the list. You begin walking around.

You follow the path to refresh your mind. You’ve been working here for the past year. But you still can’t help but be amazed by the large selection of galleries hanging on the walls. It’s fascinating how a museum is like a large sketchbook come to life–where art is held up in display to receive the glory it deserves–to tell a story that can’t be put into words, because sometimes emotions are overwhelming that only colors and ink capture that feeling.

Along the halls, you pass by foreign visitors, children, and Albedo.

His back is turned as he looks at the newest addition in the Museum where five unfamiliar paintings rest. You smile, carefully sneaking up to Albedo in an attempt to scare him.

“What do you think?” He asks after hearing the familiar footsteps.

It was worth a shot.

“I’ve never seen these before.”

He chuckles softly and it’s contagious, “Of course not, I painted them.”

You stare at the first piece. It’s an oil painting. It’s obvious from the vibrant colors and the thick brushstrokes. It’s of a house up in a hill–and you’re instantly reminded of your mentor, Makoto, who would have loved to hang this up in her library. Albedo would have probably sent this to her. She always loved his paintings.

“This is beautiful.”

“Thank you,” He smiles and points at the one next to it. It’s a collection of butterfly sketches where its wings resemble one of a shadow while the other is glowing sparks of gold, “That one’s my favorite.”

“Why?” You ask.

It’s always fascinating to hear an artist’s perspective on the world. They seem to have minds that imitate reality with their own hands–to imagine and create.

“I was going to give it to Miss Makoto,” It was almost a whisper with a hint of disappointment. People grieve in their own ways. You remember crying in Albedo’s arms. The way he comforted you. He said nothing, and nothing at the time, was what you needed. You cried for two that day–for you and him, who didn’t show his grief. You always admired how strong he was for holding on.

Now, in the museum light. You see the way his eyes regretfully stare at the painting.

“She would have loved anything you made.”

He chuckles and looks at you with his paper-white teeth, “I know.”

Albedo focuses on the two other canvases. One is a bouquet of purple flowers you haven’t seen before. The other is a blueprint of a room. You remember how Albedo was considering pursuing architecture but backed out at the last minute. This must’ve been one of those projects he did that year.

You’re in awe, “I’ve always admired your artistic abilities. I’ve never actually appreciated them.”

“Navia told me to hang these up since this side of the museum is bare. They’ll replace it soon.”

“They shouldn’t.”

“You know everything is replaceable here. Where were you by the way? Navia was looking for you. So I called you multiple times, but you didn’t answer.” His expression is laced with concern.

“I met with Scaramouche.”

“How did that go?”

You shrug.

“That’s not an answer.”

“He’s Scaramouche.”

“And?”

“He hates me.”

Albedo’s eyebrows knitted in confusion, coaxing you to say more.

Albedo knows about your history with that purple-haired boy. It wasn’t on purpose. Navia had once asked about your first heartbreak in a game of truth or drink–and the only thing you could think of at that time was Scaramouche–even when you were nothing more than just friends. It turns out that when you play a game that involves the truth and alcohol, a bottle or two works more wonders than your ears.

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s just a big misunderstanding. He was the one that didn’t show up—and now it’s like he’s angry at me for it. Like it’s my fault that he wasn’t on that plane.”

Albedo opens his mouth.

But it’s replaced by a jarring wail of the fire alarm, screeching against your ear. Your eyes follow the loud stomps of footsteps in synchrony as masses of people run towards the exit. Albedo grabs your wrist to do the same. Your pulse quickens, searching for the source of the alarm. The only thing you see is the red beacon guiding you and the rest outside. A crowd pushes against you. You wonder where Navia is. You wonder if the kids you were supposed to tour have arrived.

And you wonder where Albedo is in the sea of people.

No one is holding on to you anymore.

“Albedo!”

“Navia!”

You reach the steps outside, scanning the heads of unfamiliar faces.

Then the world shook.

A high pitch sound scratches your ears. You hear everything and nothing all at once like the sky split itself up. Smoke filled the air. Your eyes water in heat. The smell of burnt rubber and metal coax the air as you see thousands of shattered glass pieces lay along the parking lot in front.

Your hands tremble.

Your heart tells you to run.

But your feet stay.

It forces you to watch the flames swallow a car.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

yea, this is only the second chapter :) reader’s ability will be explained in later. i also have chapter 3 ready, so i might post that after editing

🏷️ (OPEN):

@danfelions @scaraenthusiast1 @meowrenapurrdo @dreamayy @misterpoofin @eternal-dokja @lalalaloveallmydays @jshkfan @kazeyozuha @yotraumainthebuilding @marivaudages

[reocidal]

LOGIC

PAIRING ALHAITHAM X GN!READER

WARNINGS swearing, angst?, violence/blood, police officer x thief, one (1) suggestive reference, rushed ending, maybe ooc

WORD COUNT 738

AUTHOR'S NOTE cashing in for day 02 @phantasmaebg

"you have to get help," he tells you, voice flat. "stop thieving. there are other ways to get money."

"what if i don't want to?"

"think about it, logically—"

"fuck logic!" you snap. "i'm good just like this, thanks."

"and i am risking my job for you, so maybe stop thinking about yourself." alhaitham is calm, eerily so. but you know he has a point. you know this isn't something he — either of you — should be doing. "if you stop this— this foolish thieving you've got going on, i can help you, the way you need."

"i don't want your help," you retort before realising that this is escalating too fast. you decide to change the subject instead. "there's a lot of other things you're giving me, and it's enough, hell, it's way too much."

"what do i even give you?" he asks, genuinely intrigued. you make a funny face at him, and his curiosity turns into distaste as he grimaces.

"you're disgusting."

you scoff, getting up and dusting yourself off. "you're even worse, mr. respectable police officer. helping out a lowly thief like me? on a regular basis too!"

he glares at you, crossing his arms defensively. "you know there's a reason."

"i think i forgot." you smile without remorse; it's obvious that you haven't forgotten anything. alhaitham, for one, knows your memory is top tier. "actually, i think i need you to remind me again."

he makes a discontented noise low in his throat. "it's because i'm in love with you. there, are you satisfied?"

"very." you are. "so gimme a kiss, alhaitham, and we can go on our merry ways— see you at the next crime scene, maybe?"

"maybe not." he leans back when you lean up, and your lips turn down in response.

"what, hate me that much?"

he shakes his head. "give it a try, please. not being a nasty little thief, i mean."

you roll your eyes. "and what do i get in return? exactly, nothing!"

he sighs. "c'mon, pretty—"

"what'd you call me?"

alhaitham purses his lips. "you have nothing left to lose, i'll take care of you."

"my honour doesn't allow that."

"what honour do you have, living off— off shit you steal?" his voice, in contrast to his words, is surprisingly gentle. "when you know i could help you make a change."

you swallow. no one's happy now.

"like i said," you begin, and your voice wobbles. "like i said, we should be going now."

"alright." he moves robotically now, like he has no free will of his own. he's deflated, like something in him has been extinguished. he lets you kiss him goodbye, and you don't see him again for another two weeks.

when you do see alhaitham again, there's not only a defeated look in his eyes — as usual — but one in yours too. you're battered and bloodied, knuckles bruised a sick mix of blue, purple, and green colour that he knows will look even worse later. you look like a cornered creature, feral, flighty, ready to attack at any given moment. your poise looks relaxed, but from years of experience and knowing you he knows that it's nothing less than a disguise. you're so on guard, you're physically unable to let it down around him.

"what happened?" he takes a single, firm step towards you, but nothing more. no sudden movements, no actions that will cause you to work yourself up further.

"almost got caught," you force out. you're panting, voice raspy, eyes following all his movements.

"oh." he softens, visibly. "well. not much i can do now, right?"

"yeah."

"unless…"

"yeah."

you let him take you home that night; whatever inside you that had been fuelling all of this seems to have finally burned itself out. you let yourself cry when he bandages you up, rough hands tender upon yours. and when he begs you, again, to allow him to take care of you, you let him.

the robberies around town die down all of a sudden; coincidentally the records of the perpetrator of those aforementioned crimes are all erased due to a mishap while saving some files. you move into his apartment, and no one makes the connection between you and the infamous thief in town.

and it's while it's not the easiest or most enjoyable ride ever, the two of you do get your happy ending. but that, in itself, is another story.

© reocidal 2024

[veewritesforfun]

Passing notes in secrecy… Pt. 1

in which you pass notes to your boyfriend, Alhaitham, during lectures. Warnings: none

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

First post, kind of nervous 🙈🙈🙈 I’ve been working on a longish (1.5k per character, up to seven characters) multi character fic for you guys, hence why I’ve been so inactive since my introduction post. But, I’ve decided to make something short and sweet for now. Tumblr only allows 30 photos per post, so you can find part 2 and 3 by clicking on their respective number. Thank you so much for reading.🩷🩷

[fuglytragedy]

headcanoning that pre Cataclysm!Capitano had an s/o. A spouse, if you will.

What if Capitano saved them and they both managed to escape Khaenri'ah *together*.

What if they both made it all the way to Natlan(headcanoning that them getting to Natlan to just a few years/right after their escape from Khaenri'ah)- both burning with the passion to find out the answers, to avenge, to put their people to peace.

What if they were Capitano/Thrain’s only reason to live, the only one keeping his sanity intact after the losses he suffered, after the burden he carried in his heart.

.

.

What if Capitano loses them to old age.

[lowkeyren]

in which : alhaitham speaks to you in 5 different languages, unaware that you understand every word he says.

wc 7.3k (pls give it a chance lol), academic rivals to lovers, unrequited hate, attempt at humor, college au, denial + pinning.. crazy ik, he falls first (and harder), tw stalking by a drunkard, a genius on paper but a total dumbass when it comes to crushes, lil smau at the end!, ft. sumeru gang. art by @/gamegatchihaja on x.

ps. translations ay nasa maliliit na titik, katulad neto!!

ps. translations will be in small letters, like this!!

PROLOGUE: GOD I HATE THIS GUY! (DOES HE THINK IM STUPID?)

the semester is nearing its conclusion, and the imminent approach of finals marks the most critical period of the year; students rush through the halls, clutching their notes and textbooks like lifelines, while you pour every ounce of effort into your studies —not just for your grades, but also to surpass a certain arrogant scholar. 

alhaitham. 

the name tastes like spoiled milk on your tongue, a sour reminder of all the times he’s bested you, even if it’s just by a small margin, leaving you dumbfounded when the difference between your marks during the last exam was a mere 1%. 

you were groveling in front of your professor, “please, just round the marks up?” you could practically feel your dignity slipping away. and the worst part? you were so desperate that you started mentally calculating how many odd jobs you’d be willing to do just to sweeten the deal. 

(maybe you’ll help organize the office, run around the campus to buy him drinks every day, or even wipe down the windows of his car…)

disclaimer: he ultimately said no, but he did compliment your impeccable taste in coffee so, a win is a win? 

anyhow, alhaitham’s nonchalance only adds to your frustration, especially when he switches to a different language mid-conversation. it feels like he’s rubbing salt in your wounds, why of course you can understand him perfectly —after all, you aren’t majoring in linguistics for no reason, plus he's not the only one who’s fluent in multiple languages.

though you keep that to yourself, perhaps because the things he says in those languages, which he assumes you don’t understand, are far from innocent, unknowingly letting you have a glimpse into his true feelings. 

ACT I: WHOLEHEARTEDLY, I DETEST YOU. 

alhaitham would never fall in love —such irrational and illogical emotions held no value to him. 

that was what he always believed, but then he saw you. 

the way you laughed so unapologetically at cyno’s jokes, how you always stood firm by your beliefs, your refusal to compromise who you are; you were a breath of fresh air in a world that often felt stifling.

as much as he tries to act unfazed, he can't help the heat prickling his skin nor the way his composure falters just slightly in your presence. and when his heart raced for the first time in what felt like forever, he knew —he was completely, utterly screwed.

(“fix me, kaveh.” / “hah. who do you think i am, ‘y/n’?”)

when kaveh told him that he just had a simple “crush”, he nearly rolled his eyes so hard he thought they might get stuck there permanently.)

likewise, this ugly arrogant handsome bastard here, is one you’ll never fall in love with. 

he’s infuriating, completely insufferable, and yet there’s something about him, something hidden beneath that arrogance, that draws you in. the idea that you could ever fall for someone like him seems laughable, impossible even. he's exactly the kind of person you should avoid and you know better than to be charmed by someone like him. yet, there's that nagging feeling, deep down, that perhaps you’re not as immune to him as you think.

by some stroke of luck, you’re in the same major, same year, and even enrolled in the same lecture periods, which means you end up in the same place at the same time more often than not.

but you can’t deny that, in some twisted way, you admire him. his intellect is beyond impressive, even if it annoys you to admit it. so surely, in his eyes, you’re still inferior, and you often wonder if he even considers your ideas as worthy of attention.

(they are.)

ACT II: YOUR WATCHFUL EYES, I CAN’T IGNORE.

your pen glides across the pages as you jot down notes, fully absorbed in your studies, barely registering the faint sound of distant chatter.

unbeknownst to you, a group of students has gathered just outside the lecture hall, peeking in from the door with curious, amused expressions. they’re clearly there for you, exchanging glances and murmurs, waiting for the moment you step outside.

you don’t notice, but alhaitham, seated a few feet away, certainly does.

his eyes narrow slightly as he takes in the scene. he doesn’t say anything at first, but his jaw clenches ever so subtly. as you begin to pack up, you glance up to find him standing in front of you, his tall figure effectively blocking the group outside’s direct line of sight to you.

with a discreet glance over his shoulder, he shoots them a cold, unmistakable glare. they visibly shudder, seemingly getting the message as they awkwardly shuffle away. 

“what was that about?”

alhaitham leans against your desk, “nothing important,” his tone is dismissive, laced with irritation, his gaze still fixed on the now-empty doorway. 

you narrow your eyes, unimpressed. “really? you just scared them off for no reason?”

“just getting rid of some… distractions,” he says casually, turning his attention back towards you. you raise an eyebrow, clearly not believing his words. “distractions? they weren’t bothering me.” 

his expression remains impassive, “khi họ cứ để ý đến em như vậy… em thấy không phiền, còn tôi thì có.”

“seeing them constantly paying attention to you… you're not bothered by it, but i am.”

“bởi vì cái cách mà em chú tâm hoàn toàn vào một việc gì đó…  nó quyến rũ vô cùng.”

because the way you completely focus on something… is truly mesmerising.

you blink, feeling a momentary flush of confusion and surprise at the words slipping from his mouth. did he just—? but before you can fully process it, he continues.

“vậy nên tôi cũng không thể trách họ khi họ muốn nhìn em gần và lâu hơn được.”

so i don’t blame them when they want to look at you closer and longer.

his words linger in the air, a moment passes before it clicks —he doesn’t think you understand. that’s why he’s speaking so… freely; letting slip things he’d never say outright in a language you both speak fluently.

“nhưng mà… chắc không ai trong số bọn họ có thể sánh ngang với tôi, em nhỉ?”

but… none of them can compare to me, right?

your chest tightens as a surge of warmth courses through you. 

his detached attitude only fuels your irritation. but there’s also a certain satisfaction in knowing something he doesn’t: you’ve understood every single word he’s said.

feigning ignorance, you raise an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with what you hope is a neutral expression. "what are you going on about?" you ask.

his expression remains as stoic as ever, not a single crack in his mask. he simply shrugs, eyes still on you, "just telling you to focus more.”

your grip on the pen tightens, there's a part of you that wants to wipe that smug look off his face, to show him you're not as clueless as he assumes. but not yet —you’re curious to see just how far he’s willing to push.

"right," you mutter under your breath, tapping the pen against your notebook. "focus. got it."

he leans down slightly, one arm resting on the back of your chair while the other presses against the table, effectively caging you in.

"you're wasting time, finals are coming up." he takes a brief pause before continuing, "i wish you the best of luck, you’ll need it.”

your eyes snap up to him in a glare, “don’t you have somewhere to be?" you bite back.

alhaitham straightens, giving you a final glance before turning towards the door. “naturally, i have studying to do.”

“bởi vì tôi sẽ chứng minh cho em thấy rằng chỉ có tôi mới xứng tầm làm đối thủ học thuật của em, không một ai khác.”

because i will prove to you that only i am worthy of being your rival, no one else.

why did he frame it as if it’s a privilege only he can claim? or is he trying to… flatter you?!

you shake your head, no way, that’s ridiculous. finals are coming up, there’s no time to dwell on whatever mind games he’s playing. though if the almighty alhaitham wants a rival, then you’ll show him exactly what it means to stand at the pinnacle.

ACT III: IN MY DREAMS, I SCORED HIGHER THAN YOU.

you’re tired, the kind of tired that seeps deep into your bones. every blink stretches longer than the last and you find it increasingly difficult to focus on the words in front of you. stifling a yawn, you feel the pull of sleep tugging at you, whispering sweet promises of rest.

there’s still time till your next class.

maybe you'll take a moment to close your eyes, just for a few seconds…

did you not get enough sleep last night, or did you stay up late studying again? alhaitham watches silently from across the room, his eyes narrowing as your head droops lower, your exhaustion becoming painfully obvious with each passing second. his gaze lingers on the way your pen pauses mid-sentence, the line on your notebook trailing off as your hand grows heavy.

he pushes himself up from his seat, and approaches your desk; he notices the sunlight streaming through the window, harsh and unrelenting, hitting right over the table where you’re sitting. he looks at you —eyes closed, with the faintest crease of discomfort on your brow.

without a word, he reaches out and slips the pen from your grip, the slight shift causing your fingers to twitch, but you don’t wake. 

for a fleeting second, he considers waking you. but then, as you shift again, settling more comfortably into your chair, he decides against it. what good would that do, anyway? you’d probably just brush him off and keep going until you collapse from sheer fatigue. typical.

instead, he adjusts his stance slightly, positioning himself just right to make sure the sunlight is fully blocked from your face, casting you in a cool shadow. 

you mumble something incoherent, and he can’t help but roll his eyes at your state. did you really think burning yourself out like this would help you focus?

“stubborn,” he mutters under his breath. 

you're always like this, pushing yourself past your limits, and while part of him respects your determination to outdo him, he won’t allow it to come at the expense of your health.

you stir from your slumber, lifting your head, your gaze lands on a familiar figure standing to the side of your table. his back turned, facing the sunlight that streams in from the window. 

alhaitham. 

he’s close, so close that his broad shoulders completely block out the sunlight from the window. the sight sends a rush of confusion through your already sleep-addled mind. did he… stand there the whole time? why? 

you shift slightly in your seat, your movement catching his attention. without turning, he speaks in that low, steady tone of his, “you’re awake.”

“alhaitham?” you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.

he glances over his shoulder, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the calm expression on his face. “you’ve been out for a while,” he comments, a hint of amusement in his voice. “i was starting to think you’d sleep through your next class.”

you rub the sleep from your eyes, “why didn’t you wake me up then?”

his shoulders shift slightly as he shrugs, still facing away from you. “you looked like you needed the rest. besides, it’s more entertaining to see how long you’d stay asleep.”

a flicker of annoyance courses through you as you roll your eyes, “oh, so you mean you care?”

he turns slightly, and you can see a hint of a smirk on his lips. “don’t read too much into it. i just prefer my competition functioning at their best.”

you wish you could roll your eyes harder because this man has an uncanny talent for grating on your nerves while somehow being insufferably charming at the same time.

“ah yes —because you need me to keep up with you,” you remark sarcastically.

“exactly.” you let out an exasperated sigh as you lean back in your chair. “you really think so highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“mushiro, kimi no koto o hijō ni takaku hyōka shiteiru yo.”

if anything, i think highly of you. 

your brows knit together in surprise, and you can’t help but scoff. “what was that? i didn't catch it.”

“i said i won’t go easy on you.” oh, the audacity. he’s lying again, and he knows it.

the corners of your mouth twitch in disbelief as you scrutinise his expression. there’s that familiar glimmer in his eyes, a spark of mischief that tells you he’s enjoying this too much.

“whatever,” you retort, crossing your arms defiantly. “not like i want you to anyway.”

despite your words, you can't deny that his actions earlier were surprisingly endearing. you wonder how long he intends to keep this up. perhaps it’s time you let him know.

“ii ne, kimi ga iraira shite iru toki wa kawaiikara.”

good, because you’re cute when you’re all riled up.

you feel a blush creep into your cheeks at his words, okay maybe you shouldn’t let him know. you instinctively look away, as if avoiding his gaze can help you regain your composure.

cute? what does he mean “cute”?! he thinks he can get away with calling you cute —well… well, there’s not much you can do about it, you’re not ready to confront him about this either.

the mere thought of asking him directly makes your stomach twist with a year’s worth of embarrassment. yet, as you try to refocus on the book in front of you, you find yourself biting your lip, struggling to suppress a smile that threatens to break free.

ACT IV: I WOKE UP TODAY, AND A DREAM CAME TRUE.

the hallway buzzes with excitement as students gather around the large announcement board, eager to see the results of their theses. you push through the crowd, heart pounding, the low hum of chatter filling your ears. 

when you reach the front, you quickly scan the list; the moment your eyes land on your name, your breath catches in your throat.

there it is, in bold red ink at the top of the board —a score higher than you’d ever hoped for, higher than his. and your name, on top of his.

alhaitham.

you glance over and spot him approaching the board, approaching you. his expression is, as always, unreadable. but you know him well enough by now to catch the slight pause in his movements, the brief moment where his eyes linger just a second too long on the board.

you try not to think too much about it as you collect your thesis, with alhaitham following closely behind, his fingers nearly grazing yours as you both sift through the stack of papers on the table.

you take in the glowing praise from your professor, each word making you feel like every all-nighter was worth it. you clutch the paper, resisting the urge to grin like an idiot. 

glancing sideways, you wait for him to say something, maybe some backhanded comment, but he remains silent. your eyes meet, and there’s a shift in his gaze as the usual sharpness in his eyes dulls ever so slightly, your smile lingering like the first light of dawn breaking through the night's embrace.

it’s subtle —just a flicker —but you catch how his gaze falters, softening, if only for a heartbeat. the edges of his stare blur, drawn to the warmth of your expression as though it’s something he hadn’t meant to witness, yet can’t look away from. 

at this moment,

"looks like i finally beat you," you say, not bothering to suppress the grin spreading across your face now.

he feels like

there’s no scowl, no sign of frustration —just the slightest raise of an eyebrow. “hmm. by a point.” he pauses, studying you for a second longer than necessary before returning his gaze to his paper. “enjoy it while it lasts.”

he's in heaven.

it’s as if he’s not bothered by the outcome at all. in fact, if anything, he seems... satisfied?

"hindi dapat ganito kalala ang epekto ng ngiti mo sa akin."

your smile shouldn't affect me this badly.

“—huh?” your mouth drops slightly open at his words; out of everything, you didn’t expect him to say that. it catches you off guard, making your heart race just a little faster. if you peer closely enough, you might catch a glimpse of the gentle arch of his lips, a ghost of a smile. 

the silence stretches on for a beat too long before he clears his throat and shifts his gaze away from you. “ang iyong ngiti ang pinakamagandang tanawin ng aking araw.”

your smile is the most beautiful sight of my day.

“what?” the word slips from your lips, barely a breath, a soft gasp that hangs in the air. it feels almost surreal and you wonder if you’ve misheard him.

each heartbeat thunders in your ears, a rhythm that matches the erratic flutter in your chest. why is he saying these things, what for in a different language…? there’s no way that he—

"—tulad mo na ang hinangad ko na ligawan, ngunit sa bawat ngiti mo, halip ay mas lalo akong nahulog para sayo."

—like you, who i wish to court, but with every smile, i instead found myself falling for you. 

your breath hitches as your heart stumbles, the implications of his words washing over you like a wave. a rush of heat floods your cheeks, “what… did you say?”

his shoulders stiffen, and there’s a subtle tension in the way his fingers curl against the paper he’s holding. “see you tomorrow, [name],” he mutters, his voice low but hurried, and before you know it, he’s already walking away.

two strange things happened today: 

1. you finally beat your sworn enemy!

2. said enemy… complimented you? 

huh, it’s as if the words slipped out before he could catch them, as if he’s been holding them in for far too long, as if… you notice the way his neck reddens, even as he turns away.

behind the door, alhaitham lets out a quiet breath.

“gago… nagkamali ba ako?”

stupid… did i make a mistake?

to his dismay, an annoyingly familiar voice cuts through the silence. kaveh, who had been waiting just down the hall, notices him standing there, a little too still. 

“oh, what do we have here?" there's a slight pause, followed by a raised eyebrow. "is that—no way, your face is red!” kaveh teases, amusement dancing in his eyes. “what happened there?" he leans in, clearly enjoying himself. "come on, spill the tea..!” 

"not a chance," alhaitham retorts, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms defensively.

just then, kaveh spots cyno and tighnari; grinning, he waves them over. “what’s going on? did alhaitham finally crack under pressure?”

alhaitham would rather reorganise the entire library than listen to kaveh recount what happened.

“i’m leaving.” 

"no, i'm afraid you're not getting out of this one.” cyno steps forward, blocking alhaitham’s path; and tighnari, who has been quietly observing till now, chimes in, “don’t leave us hanging.”

“you’re outnumbered.” 

alhaitham sighs and shakes his head. he hadn’t even thought it was physically possible for him, of all people, to do something as ridiculous as blushing —until today.

(on the other side of the door, their banter echoes through, and you can’t help but chuckle to yourself at alhaitham’s misery.)

ACT V: PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY, YOU SAY? BUT EVERYONE CALLS IT FLIRTING.

“i think alhaitham likes [name].”

the whole table falls silent before kaveh dramatically slams his glass down on the table, causing a splash of alcohol to spill over the edge. “oh finally, it’s so obvious! have you all seen the way he looks at them?” 

across the table, tighnari taps his fingers absentmindedly on his notebook, his attention only half on kaveh’s (incoming) rant but clearly invested enough, as shown by the slight twitching of his ears, to be listening. 

cyno snickers, “you’re telling me the man who can dissect any philosophical argument can’t handle a little crush? that’s rich.”

kaveh waves a hand dismissively. “come on! remember that time they were partnered up for a project? he was so... uncharacteristically patient! i’d almost say it’s cute if it weren’t alhaitham we’re talking about!”

right, it’d be almost endearing —if it weren’t coming from the most stoic, intimidatingly aloof guy in the entire school. it’d be adorable —if it weren’t alhaitham, who instinctively covers the corner of your table with his hand when you drop your pencil, ensuring you won’t hit your head as you bend down to retrieve it.

oh, you don’t notice (of course not). but your friend dehya, sitting nearby, catches the whole scene out of the corner of her eye. she raises an eyebrow, nudging the girl beside her. 

(“candace, do you see that shit.” / “yeah.”)

“a soft spot for [name], you say? well, i’ve got a story of my own, too.” cyno glances around, ensuring no one else is within earshot, then lowers his voice conspiratorially.  “have you noticed? he doesn’t wear his earphones when he’s around them.”

kaveh pipes up, nodding eagerly.

“he’s got those earphones practically glued to his head, he doesn’t hear anything he doesn’t want to, and he certainly doesn’t talk unless he’s forced to. but around them?” cyno pauses, pretending to think for a while. “not once. he’ll put them away entirely, like he’s actually willing to be… present.”

sure it’s small, subtle, the kind of habit no one would pick up on unless they were looking closely. but to anyone who knew alhaitham well, it tells them more than words ever could. 

for him, actions speak louder than words, even if he often doesn’t realise the meaning behind his own gestures.

his earphones slide down, resting forgotten around his neck, all so he can be close enough to catch the delightful lilt of your laughter. his chair inches a fraction closer, seemingly by accident. a subtle upward twitch at the corner of his mouth, so fleeting and often passing so quickly if one weren’t paying attention.

for him, it’s a language without words.

dehya laughs softly. "for someone who supposedly ‘doesn’t like being bothered,’ he sure seems invested in whatever [name] has to say."

and what sealed their suspicions? 

definitely the time when kaveh complimented nilou’s new bracelet. he glanced over at the man beside him, nudging him lightly. “what do you think?”

alhaitham gave the bracelet a cursory glance, before replying, “it’s nice.” though his gaze flickered back; and almost absently, he added after a pause, “[name] has the same one too.”

oh… oh? well that was oddly specific. kaveh’s eyebrow quirked as he fought to suppress a grin.

alhaitham had noticed a detail seemingly insignificant about [name] —the kind of thing he never cared to show the slightest interest in when it came to anyone else.

the glint in nilou’s eyes seemed to mirror kaveh’s unspoken thoughts, silently agreeing with his suspicions.  

now they’re certain —100% sure, in fact —that alhaitham has a crush on you.

“well, speak of the devil… lovely seeing you here, alhaitham,” kaveh quips. tighnari, ever observant, gives him a pointed look. “your jacket’s missing.”

“someone took it,” alhaitham replies, his tone as composed as always, giving nothing away.

—nothing until you walked past. draped over your shoulders, unmistakable, is alhaitham’s jacket. you don’t notice the way every pair of eyes follows you, or the way kaveh barely stifles a triumphant laugh.

...make that 110%.

(translation: he means he borrowed his jacket because [name] was cold.)

ACT VI: IT’S YOU, WHO COMES TO MY RESCUE. 

the quiet night hangs heavy, the road empty and bathed in the dim glow of distant streetlights. you weave through the streets, but no matter how many twists and turns you take, that weirdo just won’t leave you alone.  

he’s been trailing behind you for blocks now, his persistence grating on your nerves, cornering you with endless “compliments” and invasive questions. you’ve tried to shake him off, but his determination far exceeds your patience.

"come on, just give me a chance," he insists, stepping closer, a little too close for comfort. you take a step back. the smell of alcohol reeks from his breath, and his grin is making your skin crawl. 

"i told you, i’m not interested," you say firmly, keeping your voice steady, but the panic was starting to creep in. you glance at the empty bottle in his hand —he’s definitely drunk out his mind.

“you sure?" he completely ignores your clear discomfort. "how about you just give me your number, yeah?" he slurs out.

"no, i have a boyfriend." you lie through your teeth, hoping that would be enough to make him back off.

unfortunately, he’s as insufferable as he is persistent.

he snorts dismissively, "yeah, right. a boyfriend? you’re just playing hard to get."

you sigh, you aren’t in the mood for this, not here, not now, and especially not with someone like him. "i already told you, i have a boyfriend," your voice now tinged with frustration. "so please, just leave me alone.”

"oh, don't be like that," he steps in front of you, blocking your way. "prove it. call your boyfriend. show me you’re not lying."

your heart races as the man reaches out for you, dodging his hand, you take the chance to look behind him for an escape. just then, you see an all-too-familiar figure in the distance. 

alhaitham. 

you barely manage to suppress a relieved sigh as you wave frantically in his direction. he spots you almost immediately and without hesitation, he rushes over.

"what, this your boyfriend?" the guy sneers with derision, still sounding a little too cocky for someone who was about to get a reality check.

alhaitham steps beside you, you can feel his eyes on you for just a brief moment, the faintest flicker of worry flashing across his face. it’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you catch it—and it makes your chest tighten.

his voice is low, unmistakably carrying a warning, "yes, i’m their boyfriend. and if you don’t want things to escalate, i suggest you leave." 

the man’s face twists as anger flares in his bloodshot eyes. he takes a step forward, his grip tightening around the neck of the bottle, the glass slightly cracking. "you think you can tell me what to do?" he slurs, gaze wild and unfocused. “y-you think you’re some kind of saviour? *hic* a-and you! how… how dare you reject me?!”

alhaitham doesn’t move, his expression cold and unbothered, and that only seems to make the man angrier. his frustration boils over, and with a snarl, he clumsily swings the bottle in his hand, aggressively lurching towards your direction. 

the world seems to slow for a moment. though before you can even react, alhaitham pulls you firmly behind him with one swift motion, his other arm instinctively rising to shield the both of you from the blow. the sound of glass meeting his forearm is sharp and jarring —you can hear the high-pitched tinkle of glass scattering, the jagged shards bouncing off the pavement, and some skittering across the ground.

but he doesn’t even flinch, his stance unwavering as the man stumbles back, glass crunching underfoot. you’re still frozen from shock, your heart racing in your chest as you watch the scene unfold. 

“big mistake,” he starts, and the man visibly falters. “harassment, assault —keep this up, and you’ll regret every choice that brought you here tonight.”

the man shifts around, clearly disoriented. his eyes dart between you and alhaitham, but it’s clear that the fight’s already left him. “you— you can’t do this!” the man stammers, trying to regain some semblance of courage; unfortunately for him, the tremor in his voice is unmistakable. 

“do you really want to find out?” alhaitham asks, to which the man shakes his head vigorously. “get lost,” he mutters. the man, looking more pathetic than threatening now, quickly stumbles away, mumbling incoherent curses under his breath.

you’re breathless, still clutching the edge of his jacket, fingers trembling slightly as the adrenaline courses through you. 

"are you alright?"

you nod, forcing a small, unconvincing smile."yeah... i’m fine. thanks to you." 

alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, scanning you for any sign of injury. you follow his gaze instinctively, glancing down at yourself. that’s when you notice it —not on you, but on him.

streaks of red stain his forearm, where jagged shards of glass must have cut him during the confrontation. the gash bleeds steadily, a dark line of blood seeping through the fabric of his jacket.

"wait," you breathe, your heart sinking. "you're bleeding."

your stomach twists with guilt.

"why didn’t you say anything?" you exclaim.

he shakes his head, a dismissive gesture that does nothing to ease the knot forming in your stomach. "it’s nothing," he says, but the slight furrow in his brow and the tension in his jaw betray his words.

"nothing?" you fix him with a hard glare. "idiot… you just blocked a glass bottle with your arm, don’t try to downplay this."  

you grab his sleeve, tugging it gently but firmly, the fabric sliding beneath your fingers as you pull it up. “—and unless you think an infection is ‘nothing’, you’ll let me take care of this."  

"hold still," you murmur as you settle beside him on the couch, your supplies spread across the coffee table in front of you.

the scent of antiseptic fills the air as you take a disinfectant wipe and gently dab it against the gash. the sting of the alcohol makes him flinch slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. you mutter a soft apology, your movements slow and deliberate as you try to be as gentle as you can.

you open a tube of ointment, squeezing a small amount onto your finger before smoothing it carefully along the edges of the cut. the cool gel glides over his skin, and you can feel the tension in his arm ease ever so slightly under your touch.

“nǐ zhème guān xīn wǒ, huì ràng wǒ wù huì de.”

if you care so much about me, i might misunderstand you.

your fingers pause briefly, the words catching you off guard. you glance up at him, but he only averts his gaze, his eyes remaining fixed on a distant spot beyond the room.

misunderstand? misunderstand what, exactly?

the bandage wraps securely around his arm as you smooth it into place. as you tuck the end of the bandage, his voice comes again, just as soft, but no less clear. 

“—wù huì nǐ duì wǒ yǒu gǎn jué.”

"—misunderstand that you have feelings for me."

your brain short-circuits, and in your shock, your hands jerk. in turn, the bandage tightens way too much, causing him to wince and tense up. before you can apologise, he lets out a light chuckle.

“suǒ yǐ nǐ dān xīn wǒ… nǐ shì bù shì gù yì ràng rén xīn dòng de?”

“so you're worried about me… are you purposely trying to make my heart race?”

his words only make you more flustered, and you find yourself fumbling to fix the bandage. “i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to—”

his chuckle only grows softer, and you catch the glint of amusement in his eyes. “it’s fine.”

you quickly finish adjusting the bandage, trying to focus on anything other than how your heart is now racing. (ironically) 

“you seem flustered,” he comments casually, as if he isn’t the one who just made your head spin. “did i say something wrong?”

you shake your head quickly, hoping to hide the flush creeping up your neck. "no, not at all.”

his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smirk.

"nǐ bù bì yǎn shì, wǒ xǐ huān nǐ hài xiū de yàng zǐ, tǐng kě ài de.”

“you don’t have to hide it. i like seeing your flustered expression, it’s quite cute.”

(oh this bastard!!!!)

you try to speak, but the words get stuck in your throat. what do you say when someone’s teasing you so openly —and they think you don’t even realise it?

after a long moment, he stands, “it’s getting late, i should get going.” alhaitham gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment —and there it was, that trace of softness reserved only for you.

he heads toward the door, you watch him, feeling a strange sense of emptiness when he turns away.

“i’ll see you,” he pauses. "...and thank you for tending to me."

you watch him leave, the door clicking softly behind him, and the silence settles back into the room.

you blink, taking a deep breath. what a rollercoaster of a day. yawning, you turn to start tidying up, but your eyes land on something on the couch.

it’s his jacket, draped over the armrest. you notice a tear on the sleeve, just where his injured forearm had been. what truly catches your attention, however, is a folded piece of paper slipping out of the pocket. 

intrigued, you unfold it, revealing his neat, precise handwriting. 

ACT VII: THE SECRET I’VE ALWAYS KNOWN. 

To [Name],  I once believed you to be little more than a nuisance. A bright, well-meaning nuisance, no doubt, but a nuisance nonetheless. One who seemed intent only on striving for perfection, always seeking to best me at every turn, not out of malice but out of some earnest desire to prove your worth. In my arrogance, I mistook your relentless pursuit for a need for recognition, as if you sought my attention in some petty rivalry. Though very quickly, you made me think otherwise.  You saw the world differently, you also saw me differently. You didn’t treat me with the reverence others seemed to, nor did you shy away from challenging me. You refused to be seen as anything other than yourself; and that, in itself, was what made me admire you —what made me long to understand you more. Now, I find that I am standing with half a heart and an emptiness I never knew I could feel, because you showed me what it truly means to crave something more, something I never thought I deserved. You may think I’m a coward for not expressing my feelings more directly, perhaps you are right. I am a coward for fearing to lay bare the vulnerability of my heart. But even in my cowardice, know that my thoughts have always been of you.  If you have seen through my silence and hesitation, if you understand my actions when my words fail me, then perhaps you have already known this truth. I care for you, more deeply than I can fully express. Though I may never be able to say these things as openly as I wish, I’d like you to know that my actions have always been my confession. Even now, I’m still a coward for you. So please, if you decide to give me a chance, I’ll be waiting at nightfall. Helplessly,  Alhaitham. 

you absentmindedly trace the edges of the letter with your fingers while your eyes skim over his writing for the nth time, the ink seeming to blur together with your thoughts as you try to process everything. your fingers curl around the fabric of his jacket, a foolish smile creeping onto your face.

tomorrow’s nightfall feels impossibly far away, yet you can’t wait for it. 

alhaitham lays on his bed, his arm aches slightly from the injury, but it’s nothing he can’t ignore. plus, the bandage you had carefully wrapped around his arm is enough to keep the discomfort at bay. 

(originally, he had only planned to meet you, slip you the note, and be on his way. things didn’t go exactly to plan, but either way, he hopes you’ve read it by now.)

of all the possibilities, he’s never accounted for the one he’d be at mercy of his own emotions; he had always prided himself on his rationality, his restraint. but now? he’s reckless, absurd, foolish even —he can admit that to himself. but he finds he doesn’t care in the slightest.

for as much as he is a coward in your presence, he is just as much a fool in your absence.

ACT VIII: UNDER THE RAIN, I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY. 

“alhaitham isn’t really an expressive person, so don’t worry if he comes off as distant or uninterested. it’s not that he doesn’t care, he just… shows it differently.”

ah well, ‘differently’ indeed.

“—most importantly, alhaitham doesn’t waste time on people he doesn’t care about, so you must mean a lot to him.”

maybe you didn’t mind how your heart raced when you heard that.

“don’t fuss over it [name], you’ll know when he’s in love.”

how so? 

if he was in love, what would it look like? would you be able to tell, or would it be just another one of those things you had to catch on to?

you wrapped the his jacket tighter around yourself, a faint smile tugging at your lips. it wasn’t the answers to those questions that mattered, but asking them in the first place —that was what made you realize you already knew all along.

the evening air is cool against your skin; a gentle breeze stirs the trees, their leaves rustling quietly, and your heart beats louder than ever, urging you forward.

in the distance, you spot him, standing still in the dim light. and without a second thought, you quicken your pace.

“haitham.”

the sound of your voice catches his attention as he turns to face you; you can’t help but notice how his gaze flickers down for just a moment, his eyes taking in on how his jacket looks on you, before meeting yours. 

his posture is unnervingly perfect, rigid almost to the point of stiffness …is he nervous?

“hey,” he finally says, clearing his throat. “there’s something i need to tell you… though you’ve probably already figured it out. you’ve always been sharp.” 

“i… ” he falters, and it’s the first time you see him hesitate. “i’m not sure how to put it… since i’m not exactly great at this.”

you tilt your head, subtly urging him to continue. 

“but you’ve managed to make me care about things i never thought i would. and now i can’t seem to stop thinking about it —about you.” his voice lowers, softer now, but there’s a rawness there that’s unmistakable.

“i’m telling you this now, because not saying it... doesn’t feel right anymore."

suddenly, you feel a soft mist that barely kisses your skin, a slight chill against your cheeks, then a few tiny drops,  until they start to gather in your hair, the beads of water slipping down the back of your neck, but you don't move. neither does he.

his hair is damp, sticking to his forehead, droplets trailing down his temple. his clothes cling to his frame, soaked by the rain, yet his attention remains solely on you.

“[name], i am irrevocably in love with you.”

you stand there, the rain falling relentlessly around you, the pitter-patter mirroring the frantic beat of your heart. the water trails down his face, but it’s hard to tell if it’s just the rain, or something else.

his lips part, as though he wants to say more, but the words seem caught in the storm, swallowed up by the downpour. the rain is cold, but his gaze? his gaze feels impossibly warm. 

it’s only when you feel the dampness of his jacket beneath your fingers, that the words finally come. “you don’t need to convince me of that.”

you take a step closer, and for a moment, the world outside seems to disappear.

“i’ve known,” you add. “but hearing you say it,” you pause, allowing yourself a small smile, “makes all the difference.”

reaching up, your fingers graze his damp skin as you gently push a wet strand of hair from his forehead, the warmth of your touch lingering against his cool skin. 

“'uhibuk aydan, alhaitham.”

i love you too, alhaitham.

a single droplet slides down his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw before falling to the soaked fabric of his collar. another follows. and then another. his breath catches in his throat, and a shaky exhale leaves his mouth.

you wrap your arms around him, and he sinks into your embrace, his hair tickling your cheeks, as his chest rises and falls against yours.

“you’re gonna make me cry too, idiot,” you murmur, burying your face in his chest, your eyes glassy. “you really are a fool,” you tease softly, a slight smile playing on your lips. “but only for me.”

slowly, his hands rise, trembling slightly, until they cup your cheeks, gently stroking it. 

“la yujad 'ahad akhar 'urid 'an 'akun 'ahmaq min 'ajlihi.”

there’s no one else i’d ever want to be a fool for.

his palms are surprisingly warm despite the weather. his thumb grazes your cheekbone as he leans in, and the world falls away —nothing but the warmth of his presence and the soft press of his lips against yours.

“this is my first time in ten years seeing this guy cry! can you believe it?!” kaveh whisper-shouts, peeking out from behind the shrub. 

nodding along, cyno agrees, poking his head out just right below the blond’s. “[name] is truly exceptional. though i must say, seeing alhaitham cry is quite tear-rifying.”

kaveh rolls his eyes in exasperation. “ugh, you and your puns.” he mutters under his breath while zooming in on his phone, which is currently recording the whole scene.

“quiet down, you two!” a voice hisses from behind them —tighnari, face flushed with panic. “they’re literally right there, and you’re making more noise than a herd of goats.”

“relax, we’re out of their line of sight anyway!” kaveh raises his phone higher, almost giddily, eyes glued to the screen. “and damn this is a good angle.”

tighnari exhales sharply, “you’re incorrigible.”

“look who’s talking,” cyno raises an eyebrow at tighnari… who’s also peeking out from behind the bush. (what a hypocrite)

…

“they kissed oh my g—” kaveh’s voice rises in disbelief, but cyno quickly covers his mouth with a swift hand. the three of them scramble to duck behind the bush just as you turn to glance in their direction.

(“is that… senior kaveh?” you squint your eyes, “cyno, and tighnari?” 

alhaitham clears his throat before glancing over at his friends with a deadpan expression. “yes and unfortunately, they’re very invested in my personal life. so please don’t mind them."

you laugh, finding the whole situation a bit too amusing. “not in the slightest, but i’m sure they’ll never let you hear the end of it.”)

EPILOGUE: IN EVERY LANGUAGE, I HEAR LOVE YOU.

“how long?”

you blink, feigning confusion. “how long what?”

alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, an expression you know well. “how long have you understood everything i’ve been saying?”

you bite back a smile and offer a small shrug, “...ever since you started?” 

his lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, you can’t tell if he’s upset or impressed. then, he sighs, almost amused. “and you let me embarrass myself all this time?”

“you were being honest,” you shrug, a smirk forming. “plus i knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “may ideya ka ba kung ano ginawa mo?"

do you have any idea what you’ve done?

"mas lalong umibig sakin?"

made you fall in love with me even more?

you tease, but there’s a tenderness in your voice that softens the edge of your words.

“yes, and you really are insufferable,” he mutters with no malice. his tone is different now. softer. warmer, even.

you lean in slightly, a playful glint in your eyes. “that’s not what i heard you say before.” your fingers graze the skin of his cheek before you tenderly pinch it, giggling softly at the reaction you provoked.

in one smooth motion, he catches your hand before you can pull away and tugs you towards him, closing the distance between you in a heartbeat. you tilt your head back to meet alhaitham’s gaze.

you’ve often thought he’s the most-perfect boyfriend, undeniably handsome in every way —but there’s really just one flaw: his height.

“ugh, you’re too tall," you grumble, rubbing the back of your neck. "i’m having a neck sore just looking at you."

he quirks an eyebrow at your sudden words. “you could use a stepstool.” 

"or," you counter, "you could get on your knees and save me the trouble.”

he slowly lets out a breath, his lips curling ever so slightly. 

“'akida, 'antaziri hataa 'ashtari alkhatama.”

sure, just wait till i buy the ring.

"wh—" 

he crosses his arms, "what’s wrong? isn’t that what people expect when someone gets on their knees?"

you roll your eyes, half-smiling. "fine, then i’ll eagerly wait for that day.”

his gaze softens as his hand reaches up, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face; his eyes drop to your lips for a moment, and you know what’s coming even before he speaks.

this fic was not sponsored by duolingo, but with the help of my beloved friends!! wouldn't have been possible w/o em please give them a round of applause xx

vietnamese — @https-sourlimes

tagalog / filipino — @vxnuslogy

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chinese, japanese — me!

ty @mitsvriii for proofreading, love u all <3

and thank you for reading!! reblogs are appreciated ^^

pspspss check out the cool fanart / comic based on this fic here by @rei-plswork 🤍

MASTERLIST.

[danijaci]

"jealous, jealous, jealous boyy.." ft. diluc

bro was discombobulated