#When there’s a fresh wound in your heart

[diamonddaze01]

invisible string

pairing: ferrari driver!yoon jeonghan x journalist!reader  chapter wc: 2K  genre: fluff | au: f1 au | rating: pg-13 | warnings: none! a/n: dedicated to @ylangelegy, who has listened to me plan this for over a month now // based on invisible string by taylor swift // thank you @gotta-winwin for the beta! more notes at the bottom! takes place after full throttle and bad for business

FORMULA 1 QATAR AIRWAYS AZERBAIJAN GRAND PRIX Track: Baku City Circuit

The race had been his to win. Jeonghan had been leading the pack, smooth as ever, navigating Baku’s winding streets with a precision that seemed almost effortless. Lap after lap, he held the gap, the roar of the crowd swelling every time the scarlet Ferrari streaked past. But a mistimed pit stop—just a few seconds too long—had changed everything.

The radio crackled with updates as he rejoined the track, now behind the Red Bull and the Mercedes, a podium still possible but victory slipping further and further from his grasp. You’d watched from the media pen, clutching your mic in one hand and the delicate necklace he’d given you in the other. The charms—a tiny microphone and his initial—sat warm against your skin, as if absorbing the frantic beat of your heart.

It was painful to see him try to claw his way back, pushing his car to its limits, his lap times faster than anyone else’s, but the distance was too great. By the time the checkered flag waved, he’d finished fourth—a position that might’ve pleased anyone else but felt like a dagger to Jeonghan, especially here.

The cameras in the paddock caught every second: the way he climbed out of the car, the polite smile he gave his engineers, the exhausted slump of his shoulders as he trudged toward the team garage. You knew that expression too well—it was the same one he wore every time he felt like he’d let himself down.

The media pen had been merciless. You’d stood just off to the side, watching Jeonghan answer the barrage of questions with his usual charm, but you knew the weight he carried beneath that smooth exterior. A loss in Baku—his best circuit—was a bitter pill to swallow. You’d prepared yourself for the aftermath: the quiet ride back to the hotel, the sigh he’d let out as he peeled off his racing gloves, maybe the silent way he’d disappear into the shower.

You had even prepared your own words, something soothing to tell him when the hurt inevitably surfaced. When his PR manager leading him to the Sky Sports booth, you straightened your posture, determined to keep things professional. But your hand still found the charm at your neck, your fingers brushing over its edges as if it could somehow anchor you.

He looked like every bit the media darling he was known to be, that familiar, sly smile fixed firmly in place. But you noticed the tightness around his eyes, the slight strain in his voice as he greeted the host. He spared you a glance as you stood to the side, notebook in hand, and something in his gaze softened—brief, fleeting, but unmistakable.

When your turn came to ask him a question, you kept it light, knowing better than to press him when the wound was still fresh. “You had incredible pace today, especially toward the end. What’s your takeaway from this race?”

He tilted his head at you, his smile curling into something teasing, even playful. “Come on, sweetheart,” he said, just loud enough for the nearby microphones to catch it. “Don’t go easy on me. You never do.”

Your cheeks burned at the nickname, but you ignored it, clearing your throat and shifting to a more pointed question. “Alright, then. How do you feel about the timing of that pit stop? Do you think it cost you the win?”

For a second, you expected his smile to falter, for the frustration to slip through the cracks. But instead, he laughed softly, shrugging one shoulder. “Sometimes things don’t go your way. That’s racing. You win some, you lose some. I’ve had my fair share of wins, haven’t I? Maybe it was someone else’s turn today.”

His calm surprised you, even as you jotted down his answer. Jeonghan had always been gracious in front of the cameras, but there was something different about him now—a lightness, a resilience that you didn’t expect. And when he finished the interview and turned back toward you, his smile lingering, you wondered if he’d been preparing for this moment long before the race ever began.

You didn’t have much time to think about it. By the time the interviews wrapped up and the paddock started to clear, Jeonghan was already pulling you toward the exit, his hand firm around yours.

“Let’s go celebrate,” he said, his voice light and easy, as if he hadn’t just endured one of the most grueling races of the season.

“Celebrate?” you repeated, your brow furrowing in confusion. “Jeonghan, you didn’t even—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he cut in, his smile growing. “Baku’s too beautiful to waste on sulking. Trust me, I’ve got something better in mind.”

He led you through the paddock, ignoring your protests and questions as he tugged you toward the waiting taxi. His hand was warm around yours, his grip sure and steady, and despite your confusion, you let yourself follow him. He always had that effect on you—a pull you couldn’t resist, like gravity.

The streets of Baku’s Old City glowed in the golden light of the setting sun. Cobblestones stretched out in every direction, and the sandstone buildings caught the last rays of daylight, painting the world in hues of amber and honey. The scent of saffron and roasted chestnuts filled the air, mingling with the hum of distant voices and the faint strains of music from a nearby café.

It all felt familiar. Too familiar. Your heart skipped as the taxi pulled to a stop, and Jeonghan led you toward the same path you’d walked on your first date. He pointed out the Maiden Tower again, his voice lilting with amusement as he repeated the same joke he’d made back then.

“Are you seriously taking me on a nostalgia tour right now?” you teased, though your chest ached with something too warm, too overwhelming to name.

“Maybe I am,” he replied, his eyes glinting with that mischievous light you loved so much. “Good memories deserve a second run.”

The sun was slipping lower by the time you reached the vendor’s cart tucked into a quiet corner of the square. It hadn’t changed, not really—the same colorful trinkets spilled across the table, the same aroma of aged wood lingering in the air. Your breath caught in your throat as Jeonghan reached for a small wooden box, almost identical to the one he’d bought you on your first date. You still had it, tucked safely in the corner of your nightstand, its corners worn from the times you’d traced them absentmindedly, as though trying to hold onto the memory of that day.

“You don’t need to get me another one,” you said quickly, a laugh escaping your lips. “I still have the first one.”

“Humor me,” he said, handing the vendor a few bills. He turned to you, holding the box out in his palm, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Go on. Open it.”

Your fingers trembled as you lifted the lid.

Inside was a ring—gold, inlaid with a stunning citrine gem and diamonds, catching the last rays of sunlight and scattering them like a thousand tiny stars. It was exquisite, timeless in a way that stole the air from your lungs.

You looked up at him, the question forming on your lips, but Jeonghan was already moving. He was on one knee before you, his dark eyes fixed on yours with a tenderness that left you utterly undone.

“Marry me,” he said, his voice low but steady, every word laced with certainty. “Not because it’s the perfect moment or because I have the perfect speech prepared—because God knows I don’t. But because I love you. I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you, and I know, without a doubt, that I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”

Your heart felt like it was being tugged by that invisible thread, the one that had always tied you to him, no matter where the world spun you both. You could feel the weight of every shared laugh, every argument, every stolen moment between races and chaos and life. It all led here—to him, kneeling in the heart of the city where it all began, looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

“Jeonghan…” You barely managed to get his name out before your voice broke.

“I’ve always believed in fate, you know,” he continued, his lips twitching into that familiar smirk even as his eyes shone. “Call me romantic, but I think there was a thread pulling me to you, even before I knew you existed. And now? I don’t ever want to let go of it.”

Your vision blurred as tears filled your eyes, the weight of his words sinking into your chest like a stone. He wasn’t smiling anymore—not his usual mischievous grin or his media-trained smirk. This was something raw, something real, and it made your heart feel like it might burst.

“You’re my invisible string,” he continued, his voice softening. “The one that’s tied me to you through every twist, every turn, every high and low. And I don’t want to spend another day without you at the other end of it.”

The tears spilled over before you could stop them, a shaky laugh breaking from your lips as you nodded, the world spinning and stilling all at once. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Yes, Jeonghan. Of course, yes.”

A cheer erupted around you, startling you both. You hadn’t even realized a crowd had gathered in the square, tourists and locals alike drawn in by the sight of the golden boy of Ferrari on one knee. His grin spread wide as he slid the ring onto your finger, the metal cool against your skin, his own eyes suspiciously shiny.

When he stood and pulled you into his arms, the applause only grew louder. And when his lips met yours, the world seemed to fade entirely, leaving only the warmth of his hands, the press of his mouth, and the steady, unshakable beat of his heart against yours.

The kiss was long, deep, and full of promises you didn’t need to hear to understand. When you finally broke apart, your cheeks flushed and your breath short, Jeonghan pressed his forehead to yours, his smile dazzling.

“I love you,” he murmured, just for you.

“I love you, too,” you replied, your voice steadier now.

And as you stood there in the golden haze of the old city, the ring heavy on your finger and Jeonghan’s arms tight around you, you couldn’t help but think of that invisible string. Of the way it had wound through time and space, pulling you both through every twist and turn, every high and low, until it finally tied you here—together. Forever.

The next morning, the headlines were splashed across every sports outlet and beyond:

Ferrari’s Golden Boy Pops the Question in Baku’s Old City—And Gets a Yes!

a/n: if anyone is curious about the ring:

a/n (pt. it's the remix): i'm ngl - idk if there's anymore full throttle left to write. BUT! jeonghan and his journalist lover fiance will definitely be popping up in the other fics in the pedal to the metal series, so keep an eye out for your favorite ferrari golden boy <333

truly, thank you for all the love on full throttle. it blows me away how many people have reached out and told me that this fic got them into f1, and that's such an honor to hear (carat f1 enjoyers RISEEEE).

does this mean i'll never write ferrari!jeonghan again? no ofc not, he's one of my favorite characters of all time and if an idea pops up i will def write it. but for now... kisses, ferrari boy, onwards to pr disaster ferrari!soonyoung!

[ros3mari3]

Stolen Light

Bucky x hurt! reader

The hum of the fluorescent lights overhead was the only sound in the otherwise silent lab. You leaned over the workbench, brows furrowed in concentration as your fingers traced the strange etchings on the alien weapon’s surface. Tony had asked for your expertise, but even you weren’t sure what you were dealing with yet. The metal pulsed faintly beneath your touch, as if it were alive.

You exhaled, rubbing at your tired eyes. It was well past midnight, and you knew Bucky would be worried. He always was when you worked late. You smiled at the thought—your grumpy soldier turned soft for you. He was the only one who could pull you away from your work with just a look, the only one who could convince you to rest.

Just as you reached for your communicator to send him a quick message, the lights flickered. A deep, guttural growl echoed through the lab, freezing you in place. The air turned thick, heavy with the presence of something unnatural.

Slowly, you turned.

A towering figure loomed in the doorway, eyes glowing a sickly yellow. The weapon vibrated violently beneath your hand, reacting to its true owner.

“Oh, shit.”

Before you could move, the alien lunged.

The compound shook with the force of the blast.

Bucky was in the common room with Steve and Sam when the alarms blared, a cold dread seizing his chest. He didn’t need to be told where the explosion had come from—he already knew.

“(Y/N),” he breathed, already sprinting toward the lab.

The sight that greeted him made his stomach drop.

Shattered glass, overturned tables, and a gaping hole in the lab’s reinforced walls. But the worst part—the part that made his blood run ice cold—was the pool of blood staining the floor.

“No,” he whispered, voice strangled.

His hands shook as he crouched down, fingers brushing over the still-warm blood. Your blood. His vision blurred, heart hammering wildly in his chest.

Steve’s voice was distant, muffled, as he barked out orders. Sam was already scanning the security footage, but Bucky couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

She’s gone. They took her.

He’d let himself love you. Let himself believe he could have something good. And now—now he might have lost you.

The alien’s ship was located two hours later. It wasn’t soon enough.

Bucky had barely let the Quinjet land before he was leaping out, sprinting toward the structure where the signal led. The others barely kept up, but he didn’t care. He had to get to you.

They found you strapped to a metal slab, restraints biting into your wrists. Blood coated your torn shirt, fresh wounds marring your skin. You were barely conscious, eyes fluttering weakly as the alien loomed over you, preparing to strike again.

Bucky saw red.

The alien barely had time to react before Bucky was on him, metal fist colliding with bone with a sickening crunch. He didn’t stop—not when the creature roared in pain, not when Steve yelled for him to stand down.

It was only when he felt your weak fingers brush his own that he froze. Steve must have freed her when he had the chance.

“B-Bucky?” your voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. You were hunched over, on your knees.

His heart clenched painfully at how broken you sounded. He turned to you immediately, cradling your face with shaking hands. “I’m here, doll. I got you.”

You tried to smile, but it quickly turned into a wince. “Took you… long enough.”

Bucky let out a strangled laugh, pressing his forehead against yours. “You scared the hell outta me.”

Your fingers curled weakly around his wrist. “Didn’t mean to.”

His throat tightened. “You're never working on one of Tony's projects again. Ever.”

You hummed softly, eyes slipping shut. Bucky panicked, shaking you lightly. “Hey, no, stay with me. You hear me? We’re going home.”

He quickly scooped you up, letting your head rest on his shoulder. Bucky's heart ached at the sight, and he subconsciously pulled you closer to him, vowing to never let you out of his sight.

Back at the compound, it was hours before you woke up. Bucky never left your side, metal fingers intertwined with yours as he watched the steady rise and fall of your chest. Steve had tried to lighten to mood by joking that Bucky was far too overprotective, that he was too much like a lost puppy; but he quickly realised that Bucky was not paying attention, and he left.

When your eyes finally fluttered open, he exhaled deeply, relief washing over him like a tidal wave.

“Hey,” you croaked, voice still weak.

Bucky leaned in, brushing his lips over your knuckles. “Hey yourself.”

“You look like hell,” you teased weakly.

Bucky huffed a laugh, but his eyes were still clouded with worry. “You almost died.”

You squeezed his hand, offering a tired smile. “But I didn’t.”

His jaw clenched, emotions warring in his gaze. “I can’t lose you,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I won’t lose the only person I know I can trust, I know I can love.”

You tugged on his hand until he hesitantly leaned down, resting his forehead against yours. You sighed, reveling in the familiar warmth of him.

“You won’t,” you promised. “I’m right here.”

Bucky swallowed hard, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Yeah,” he murmured. “And I’m never letting you go.”

[dulcescorderitas]

let me love you like a woman

parings: sam winchester x reader

song: let me love you like a woman by lana del rey

warnings: 18+, smut

from a small town, how 'bout you?

sam winchester wasn’t used to softness.

not real softness, not the kind that lingers in the morning light, stretching across sheets that smell like love and laughter. not the kind that curls up next to you on the couch, fingers tracing patterns on his skin, not asking for anything, just being there.

he had known the rough kind of love. the kind edged in fire and regret, love that felt more like a fight for survival than something you could rest in. jess had been soft, once. but even that had been haunted, because he had known—even if he hadn’t admitted it to himself, he had known—that it wouldn’t last.

but you—God, you were something different.

i only mention it 'cause i'm ready to leave l.a.

he found you in some nowhere town, the kind that didn’t have a name worth remembering. you’d been working in a bar, slinging drinks and dodging grabby hands with the kind of practiced ease that told him you’d been doing it too damn long. he hadn’t been looking for anything when he met you. hadn’t been ready.

but love doesn’t give a damn if you’re ready. it just happens.

one night turned into two. two turned into something more. and before he knew it, he was coming back to you after every hunt, like gravity had tied itself to his ribs and dragged him home.

home.

it still felt strange to think of it that way.

and i want you to come

he didn’t talk about the past much. you never pushed. you let him tell you things in pieces, in half-whispered confessions at two a.m. when the nightmares made his breath come short and shallow.

you learned about ruby first, because that wound was still fresh. the betrayal. the blood. the way he had let himself become something he wasn’t sure he could ever undo.

jess came later, and it wrecked him in a way he hadn’t expected. he could barely get the words out, hands shaking as he told you about her, about the way he had loved her, about how she had burned.

and the other women—well.

there had been other women.

sam winchester was a man who carried grief like a second skin, and sometimes, the only way to drown it out was to feel something else.

but none of them had been you.

you weren’t a distraction. you weren’t an escape. you were real. and that terrified him more than anything else.

80 miles north or south will do

one night, lying in bed with your head on his chest, you told him you wanted to leave. not forever. just for a while.

“pick a direction,” you murmured, tracing circles over his heart. “north or south?”

“doesn’t matter,” he said, voice rough with sleep. “as long as you’re there.”

and he meant it.

God, he meant it.

i don't care where, as long as you're with me

you didn’t leave right away. life never worked like that. there were hunts to finish, loose ends to tie up. but every time sam came back to you, every time he held you close, he felt something settle inside him.

he still had nightmares. still woke up some nights gasping for breath, the weight of his past pressing down on his chest like something tangible.

but you were always there. always whispering his name in that soft, steady voice. always pulling him back.

let me love you like a woman

one night, he broke.

not in a dramatic way. not in a way that made noise.

he just let go.

let you hold him. let you see him—all of him. the broken pieces, the sharp edges, the parts of himself he had spent years trying to hide.

and you stayed.

let me hold you like a baby

you didn’t try to fix him. didn’t tell him it would be okay. you just loved him.

and for the first time in his life, sam winchester let himself believe that was enough.

he was quiet that night, his body wound tight like a coiled spring. the hunt had been rough. not the kind where blood was spilled, but the kind that left an ache somewhere deeper. a child had died. a mother had screamed. and sam had carried the weight of it all, shouldering it the way he always did, like it was his burden to bear alone.

but you weren’t having it.

“let me take care of you,” you whispered against his jaw, lips ghosting over his skin. he sighed, hands flexing against your hips, fingers twitching like he wanted to pull you close and push you away at the same time.

“you don’t have to,” he murmured, but you could hear the longing beneath the protest. the way he wanted it but didn’t know how to ask.

so you didn’t make him ask.

let me shine like a diamond

you just kissed him. slow. deep. the kind of kiss that felt like unraveling a knot that had been pulled too tight. his breath hitched when your fingers slid beneath his shirt, tracing the hard planes of muscle, the scars, the story of his body written in old wounds and fresh tension.

“sam,” you breathed, pressing your forehead to his. “let me love you.”

his lips parted, a shuddering exhale slipping out, and then he melted.

let me be who i'm meant to be

he let you undress him, let you push him back onto the bed, let you kiss every inch of him like he was something sacred. his hands trembled when they found your skin, tracing up your sides, gripping your thighs as you straddled him.

“i’ve got you,” you whispered, guiding him inside you, taking him slow, taking him deep. his eyes squeezed shut, a groan ripping from his throat as he sank into you, as your body wrapped around him like something holy.

talk to me in poems and songs

“God,” he choked out, his hands grasping at your hips like he didn’t know how to hold on properly, like he was afraid to break you.

but you wanted to be his anchor. you rode him slow, deliberate, watching the tension bleed out of his shoulders with every roll of your hips. you kissed the furrow from his brow, whispered his name like it was a prayer, like he was worth worshiping.

don't make me bittersweet

and when he finally came undone beneath you, gasping your name like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth, you held him through it.

pressed kisses to his temple. ran your fingers through his hair.

loved him the way he deserved to be loved.

and sam winchester, for the first time in his life, let himself be loved.

let me love you like a woman

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze @cherrygirlfriend @figthoughts @sunsbaby @ambiguous-avery @sunnyteume @starzify

[ylangelegy]

svt & love poems they'd give you.

★ footnotes: decided to marry the two halves of my heart this valentine's: svt and poetry. this is unashamedly inspired by the brilliant @heartepub, whose constant intersection of svt x poetry inspires me to no end. viv, you are an entire poem in itself; i would give you all the pretty words in the world, if i could. + happy carat day, everyone!

seungcheol ★ Isn't Every Love Poem an Unfinished Love Poem?, Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz

Praise the caps of your shoulders, my lips pressed against them.

Praise the poem I was trying to finish when you showed up

at my door.

jeonghan ★ If I Had Three Lives, Sarah Russell

If I had three lives, I'd marry you in two. The other? Perhaps that life over there at Starbucks, sitting alone, writing—a memoir, maybe a novel or this poem. […] I'd walk the beach at sunrise, find perfect shell spirals and study pockmarks water makes in sand. And I'd wonder sometimes if I'd ever find you.

joshua ★ True Love, Sharon Olds

I quietly call to you and you come and hold my hand and I say I cannot see beyond it. I cannot see beyond it.

junhui ★ February & my love is in another state, José Olivarez

stay with me. while the sky is still golden, hold the ladder so i can climb, & from the highest rung, i can scrape away a drizzle of light to wear around my neck. alone

is the star i follow. in love & in solitude: alone is the home with the warmest glow.

soonyoung ★ Variations on the Word Love, Margaret Atwood

This word is far too short for us, it has only four letters, too sparse to fill those deep bare vacuums between the stars that press on us with their deafness. It's not love we don't wish to fall into, but that fear. this word is not enough but it will have to do.

wonwoo ★ The Leash, Ada Limón

But sometimes, I swear I hear it, the wound closing like a rusted-over garage door, and I can still move my living limbs into the world without too much pain, can still marvel at how the dog runs straight toward the pickup trucks break-necking down the road, because she thinks she loves them, because she’s sure, without a doubt, that the loud roaring things will love her back,

jihoon ★ You Do Not Have To Love Me, Leonard Cohen

I wrote all these songs for you I burned red and black candles shaped like a man and a woman I married the smoke of two pyramids of sandalwood I prayed for you I prayed that you would love me and that you would not love me

seokmin ★ Watching you talk on the phone, I consider the empty space around atoms–, Rhiannon McGavin

To make my birthday cake from scratch, you wouldn’t just plant strawberries: you’d create another universe. I wanted you

warm and close as fresh laundry and here we are, Tuesday. Of course you love me, you’re wearing one of my socks.

mingyu ★ O Small Sad Ecstasy of Love, Anne Carson

I did a road trip all over my mind and heart and there you were kneeling by the roadside with your little toolkit fixing something.

Give me a world, you have taken the world I was.

minghao ★ The Quiet World, Jeffrey McDaniel

Late at night, I call my long distance lover, proudly say I only used fifty-nine today. I saved the rest for you.

When she doesn’t respond, I know she’s used up all her words, so I slowly whisper I love you thirty-two and a third times.

seungkwan ★ A Walk Round the Park, Sandra Lim

We did not say much to each other but

we grinned, because this love was so good you sucked the

rib bones

and I licked my fingers like a cat.

Now I’m omniscient. I’m going to skip past

the hard

parts that go on for a very long time.

vernon ★ Guilty of Dust, Frank Bidart

the voice in my head said

LOVE IS THE DISTANCE BETWEEN YOU AND WHAT YOU LOVE

WHAT YOU LOVE IS YOUR FATE

chan ★ First Date, Megan Williams

I want the warmth of your gaze to convince me that living is worth the discomfort. That other people can like me. That the bottlenecked bridge full of squealing tires & suckers who can't merge is a small price to pay for a hand in mine.

[olive-treeeee]

Bad Timing - 11th Doctor x Reader

Summary: You and the doctor are running from a horrific beast, but He has something to tell you.

Warnings: Monsters and Snogging.

Hello all! I hope you're all doing well, this is my first fan fiction so be nice! But if you like what you see I take requests!

“I think you made him angry.” The Doctor’s voice was tight with panic, the edges fraying in a way you’d never heard before. He wasn’t just nervous; he was afraid, Terrified even. And if he was afraid, you were as good as dead. He moved in front of you, his stance tense, like a man trying to shield a child. He squared his shoulders, puffed out his chest, Small and fragile pretending to be bigger than he was. It would have been almost endearing if it wasn’t utterly useless.

Your breath hitched as your gaze stayed locked on the thing in front of you. It was wrong. Blinding white, the color of fresh snow and hospital walls, but there was nothing pure about it. Its eyes, a vast blue, the other red and raw, freshly wounded. its gaze tore into you with a predator’s patience. A fresh scar slashed down its grotesque, rodent-like face, its curved ears twitching at every breath you took.

And then there was its body. massive. A hulking, bearlike beast, towering over you both like a skyscraper waiting to collapse. One swipe, one lazy flick of its monstrous claw, and you would be nothing but shredded meat. You could feel it. It knew that too and you bet it liked it.

Desperate, you turned to the Doctor, searching for some sign of reassurance, some plan, some miracle. But for the first time since you’d met him, he was silent.

“Angry?” You managed to get out. It felt more like a panicked ramble. “Why would he be angry?”

The doctor, still eyes glued to the monster, noticed the snapped pile of sticks and twigs, the pile was too small for the monster to have sat in but based on where the monster stood and the sudden switch, you would assume that it was the reason. 

“It was a nest for its offspring and you broke it.” The doctor’s voice wobbled. “You stepped on it and you broke it.” 

He didn’t sound like he was angry or telling you off in any way, which surprised you considering you were face to face with certain death and it was all your fault.

“I didn’t mean to.” You squeaked.

The Doctor twitched his head, “I don't think it cares. Over three hundred years of hunting, searching and scouring the planet for a nest for its newborns and it's been squandered by a human.”

Silence fell over you as you heard the monster’s snarls and growls. It sounded somewhat like a lion or a tiger. Both of you took a mini step back again as you felt your heart beating louder and louder. You looked to the doctor for some sort of comfort, but when you did, you received no such thing. The same look of eyes wide and a slightly agape mouth, still etched on his face didn’t necessarily take you by surprise but it definitely made your heart sink. 

“Doctor.” You said, tugging at his sleeve.

“Yeah?” He responds, eyes still glued to the monster.

“Would now be the best time to run?” You began to panic even more. The Doctor turned to look at you for a split second, the first time he looked at you since you saw the creature. You’d never admit it but you liked it when he looked at you. 

Even during certain death. Especially during certain death.

The Doctor, without taking his eyes off the monster stretched his arm around so he’s able to grip your hand. “Uh, yes. Yes I think that would be a great idea.”

He snapped out of his daze and pulled you by the hand and together you ran for your lives. The monster lets out an eardrum rupturing screech before barrelling for both of you. The ground shakes at every single booming step. You Watch as corridors twist and turn in your view.

You looked back, the doctor’s hand still in yours. A huge group of cyber armoured soldiers burst through one of the doors, their guns pointed at the creature - you were safe.

“Where did you put the TARDIS?” You asked, still slightly out of breath. You looked around, the entire building isn’t anything you’ve seen before. A spaceship of some kind? A derelict hunk of metal whirling through deep space, sent to keep the beast contained and never return to whatever hell it came from. There’s an acute feeling of despair that stains the walls of this Wraithhold.

“I haven’t the foggiest. It was meant to be here.” The Doctor said, panic dripping in his voice. “It was right here, I swear.”

“So, we’ve Lost it?”

“Unfortunately.”

Your heart Slammed against your ribs, a cold dread coiling in your gut. This is it, Here you are, Stranded on a dying, rust coated hunk of junk with nothing but the faint sounds of systems, slowly failing and the slow, wet grunts of the thing that might eat you alive. Panic grips at your throat, what if no one can get you off this god forsaken ship? What if you never see your mum again? Never step foot into your crummy job ever again? Never feel the warmth of the sun? It wasn’t much of a life before Him but now you are standing at the edge of something so much worse. 

“(Y/N)” The Doctor broke you out of your trance. You spun around to look at him properly. His hair flopping in front of his face, dropped to his knees, twisting slightly so he was facing you. He looked to have been trying to ‘sonic’ an exit out of the side of the metal. “I think this is bad timing, but I have a feeling that we might not make it out alive-”

“Oh my god, please don’t say that.” You shrieked. “You have never said anything like that.”

“Would you just let me finish?” He cut you off, launching to his feet in one fluid motion. Before you could protest, his hand was suddenly on you. Warm, firm, calloused as it pressed against your mouth, silencing you. Your breath hitched. He never touched you. Not like this. Not ever.

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears as his gaze burned into yours.

“We might not make it out alive,” he murmured, low and rough. This was so unlike him. He was usually so bubbly, but this tone, it made you feel something. Then he shrugged, “but we probably will, because it’s me. But if we don’t…” His fingers twitched against your skin, his thumb ghosting along your cheek as his voice dropped to something almost guttural. “I need to do this. Just once.”

And then, before you could process it, before you could even breathe. His lips crashed into yours.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t tentative. It was raw, searing, all-consuming. His fingers slid from your mouth to cradle your jaw, tilting your head just right as he deepened the kiss, pressing himself flush against you. Heat coiled low in your stomach. The metal walls around you, the danger, the ticking clock. It all dissolved, drowned out by the way he tasted, the way he took you in his arms. 

When he finally pulled back, just enough for his forehead to rest against yours, his breath was uneven. His hands lingered, thumbs stroking along the skin of your jawline as though worshipping the shape of you.

“If we die,” he whispered, lips barely brushing against yours, “at least I’ll go, knowing what that felt like.”

You pull away from him, a sly grin plastered across your face. “That was really cheesy, doctor.” 

The doctor looked back at you with a look you couldn’t quite read, you supposed – you hoped it was a positive one. Then he smiled, oh god, He smiled. His dimples brimming on his cheeks. “You know me, gotta keep you on your toes.”

The Moment, just as quick as it started, was cut short by the ear splitting, shrill roar of the monster. You both snapped your heads in perfect unison adrenaline pulsing all over again.

“Speaking of keeping you on your toes.” A wicked grin spread across his face, Then before you could react, he laced his hand in yours and the two of you took off down the corridor

[tojirights]

okkkkk listen im sure this has been done before but i can't stop thinking abt astarion's bite having an aphrodisiac effect on you sighs. :\ this is completely my headcanon, I do not know what an actual vampire bite in D&D would entail don't hate me 😭

The first time Astarion asks to bite you, you decline for obvious reasons. But the next night he comes to you, he seems unwell, and your heart struggles to still see him as the manipulative monster you know vampires tend to be, and you give in. It was only one little bite, right? You've quite literally been stabbed in the gut before, you figure it's no big deal and it would benefit the whole group in the long run for Astarion to be at full strength.

What Astarion doesn't tell you, and he's fully aware of, is what the after effects of being bitten are. You body immediately heats, pain and an odd sensation of pleasure shoots through your body. Even as Astarion releases your neck, a dribble of your own blood leaking down his lip, you feel warm. Too warm.

Your mind immediately jumps to "oh shit im dying. How could I be so stupid?", but you start to realize that the dizziness hitting you seems to be not only from lack of blood, but the movement of blood down your body. Astarion tries to sneak away but even in your weakened state, you grab his arm before he moves. "Don't." You say sternly, starting to breathe heavily. "What-" Your body shudders. "Is this feeling..?" Astarion almost looks guilty when he sees your forehead start to sweat, clear signs of arousal coming from your body.

"And what do you mean, darling? Lightheaded? Why, that's makes sense, does it not?" His tone is smart, and if you were thinking right, you'd slap the shit out of him. You shake your head, the burning hot heat moving down your stomach before settling in your gut. "You best be honest with me, my dagger has your name all over it right now." You shoot him a weak glare, to which he chuckles.

Astarion leans in close to your ear, his breath ghosting the fresh wound he inflicted just below. "Well... If you must know..." He starts explaining, his voice low in his throat and making your body react in ways you've never felt before. "There's a not commonly discussed after effect that some people experience after being bitten." He watches as your body shudders, taking in the flush on your cheeks. "It can cause... temporary, insatiable lust." He draws out the last words in a whisper, smirking to himself as you squirm.

You groan outwardly, frustration minging in the wake of arousal. "And you knew this would happen?" You ask, but Astarion just hums like he's unsure. "Not really, like I said, it doesn't happen to everyone." He moves over top of you slowly, his eyes locking with yours. "From what I know, this only happens when there's already some strong feelings developed." He teases, enjoying how your face somehow turns even redder. "You're fucking with me." You say flatly, though you can already feel a familiar wetness forming between your thighs.

Astarion smirks as he looms over you, seemingly enjoying your current struggle. "I wouldn't dare." He defends. "Besides, you can't tell me that you aren't... needing some relief." He says in a sultry tone as he leans for the other side of your neck. You gasp when his lips find your skin, his kisses leaving fire behind on your skin. "W-what, no." You scoff, trying to deny your primal urges, but you're not in your right mind. Your hips sqiurm underneath him, seeking any sort of friction.

Astarion's no stranger to this song and dance, but he admits it feels a little more deceitful than normal. He isn't here to just use you and toss you to the side, or even worse, bring you back to Cazador. Honestly, he's not sure why he even crawled into your bed like this at all. Muscle memory, perhaps. But the sight of you writhing under him certainly has his mind a little clouded.

He pouts, pulling away from your body entirely. "Why, of course then dear. I'd never want to push you into anyth-" His sentence ends abruptly when your hands find themselves tangled in his hair, pulling him back to you and kissing him feverishly. "You owe me." You breathe in between kisses, the soreness in your neck a reminder of why you're here. Astarion just chuckles against your lips, the vibration making you shiver. "I suppose you're right." He says in a hushed tone. "Don't worry, I'll take care of this little problem for you darling."

You'd again be furious at him and his smart mouth if you could think about anything other than his hands all over your body. His knee slots between your thighs, shifting your legs further apart and giving you just enough friction that you can't help the moan that follows. Astarion shushes you, his finger to your lips while he keeps pressing his knee closer to your center. "Quiet, my dear." He coos, watching you grind helplessly against his leg. "Do you want our little friends to see you so utterly desperate for me?"

There's a rush of embarrassment that surges through you, knowing to any of your companions, you probably look pretty ridiculous under him, but you can't seem to care as his hand travels down your throat. His fingers lightly brush over his handiwork, watching the way your face gives a quick twist of pain, yet your voice conjures such a pretty noise. Astarion sighs to himself, quickly feeling himself hardening in his sleep pants at the sight of you.

"You really are quite beautiful, you know?" He whispers, almost as if you're not meant to hear it. Your body responds on its own, a quiet whimper leaving your mouth before you can stop it. "Don't make me beg, Astarion..." You shudder, your tone pleading enough to make your needs known. Astarion's own desire starts to overwhelm him, his need to have you all to himself winning over his wants to keep teasing you. His hands slide down your sides, slipping under your shirt to feel the way your muscles tense with every touch.

Astarion sighs dramatically, acting offended to your desperate pleas. "Normally?" He starts, watching you glare daggers at him. "You'd be begging until your voice went hoarse, but since you were such a good girl for me and helped me, I won't keep you waiting." His words make your core ache, your hips grinding against his leg as a groan leaves your lips.

Astarion's fingers dance up your stomach, pushing your shirt up as he moves. His eyes linger a little too long as your breasts come into view, perky as his imagination had guessed, and your nipples hard and just begging for his mouth on them. He decides to indulge, kissing up your chest until his lips find the hardened bud. As soon as he latches onto you, it's as if all your self control flies right out the window. Your fingers desperately tangle into his hair, your back arched into him as his knee forms at least some sort of friction for you.

"My my, I've barely even touched you." He remarks as he watches you crumble beneath him, every single touch pushing you towards an embarrassingly early orgasm. You find the strength to punch his arm, but it obviously doesn't do anything but make him laugh. His tongue swirls your nipple, almost distracting you from the feeling of his hand traveling south, nimble fingers sliding under the waistband of your pants.

You're already teetering on the edge, his teeth nipping at your flesh much more gently than he had latched onto your neck earlier, the sensation causing surges of pleasure to run down your spine. As soon as his hand slips beneath your pants, he can feel your warmth, he knows just how much you've been dying to be touched this whole time. "Poor baby..." He coos. "Is this what you've been waiting for?" Skilled fingers find their way to your clit, and Astarion can't contain his groan as he feels just how wet you've gotten from this.

He's not surprised, of course, knowing your body is processing the effects of his little nibble, but he likes to think you've been pining this whole time, just waiting for him to take you. His mind paints all these pretty pictures of you with your hand down your pants, lip between your teeth as you touch yourself to the thought of him. "K-keep going, I'm so-" You gasp out, Astarion's attention shifting fully to you, the look on your face making his cock throb with need.

Astarion's thumb rubs circles around your clit, almost distracting you as he slides a slim digit inside your pulsing pussy. Your breath catches in your throat as you do your best not to be too loud, but Astarion curls his finger, sending flames through your body as your orgasm rolls over you. "A-Astarion yes-" You whimper as intense pleasure surges through you. Astarion buries his face into the crook of your neck, muffling his groan as he feels you squeezing around his finger.

"Gods, how pretty my name sounds on your tongue." He mutters to himself, lips latching to your sweat slick skin as he works his finger out as your orgasm fades. It did nothing to relieve the burning in your gut, if anything, you feel even worse. "N-need..." You gasp out, barely even knowing how to finish that sentence. Astarion's already shifting, removing his pants just enough to free himself.

"More." Astarion grunts, finishing your sentence for you and lining his cock up with your still needy cunt. Anticipation swirls in your gut, and luckily for you, Astarion's feeling a similar amount of desire, so he doesn't keep you waiting. "I know, darling. You need more." He says in a low voice, barely over a grumble as he finally slides inside. Your eyes lull shut, your mouth open as an incredibly desperate noise threatens to fill the silence of the night as Astarion fills your pussy with an agonizingly slow movement.

His one hand finds your hip, while the other cups your face and covers your mouth. "Keep your lips shut and your eyes on me." The commanding tone of voice forces a whimper from your throat, luckily muffled by his palm. Astarion's control slips from his grasp, his hips meeting yours in quick snaps as he keeps your eyes locked with his. "Yes, darling, just like that." Astarion purrs, watching the way your body accomidates him so well, how your legs seem to open more and more so he can push himself deeper within you.

Every thrust brings you right back to the edge, your mind blanking on everything around you besides him. Astarion's attempt to keep this quiet and subtle falls flat while the slide of his cock in and out of your cunt makes an obscene wet squelch, your juices covering his length enough to be making a mess down your thighs as well. You're sure at least someone is listening, but you're entirely too far gone in the pleasure of it all to even care. "Mmff, I-I'm..." You mumble into the palm of his hand, your body clenching around his cock as your orgasm rapidly approaches.

Astarion groans, his rhythm faltering with the way your pussy tightens, threatening to milk the cum from him right then and there. "How badly I want you to scream my name, to wake everyone from their tents as you come apart underneath me..." He breathes, something dark flashing in his eyes. Your hands grip desperately at his biceps, anchoring yourself as his words push you over the edge.

"That's it, pretty girl." Astarion sighs, recognizing the way you squeezed his finger earlier as you cumming on his cock. Your body shakes with the aftershocks of pleasure, Astarion's cock making you see stars as he angles your hips up. Its only a matter of a few more thrusts, the tip of his cock pressing snug against your cervix for his own orgasm to win over. You moan beneath his hand, feeling as each thick rope of cum coats your insides. "Gods, you're perfect..." Astarion shudders, pumping his hips lazily as your pussy clenches to make sure not a drop is left.

As you both lay, heavy breathing and sweaty bodies, you almost start to laugh. "You really are an asshole, you know that?" You say, yet your words lack any actual bite. Astarion slowly slides himself out, his mind taking a quick mental photo for later as he sees his cum seeping from your cunt, how it mixes with your arousal to make quite a beautiful mess. He chuckles as he reaches for an old rag, making sure it isn't dirty before gently cleaning you up. "And why am I an asshole, exactly?" He hums, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

"If you wanted to sleep with me, you could've just asked." You sheepishly bite your lip, still feeling a low burning flame of arousal in your stomach. Astarion sits next to you, letting you shift to lay your head on his leg. "I- well..." He clears his throat, and you swear he looks embarrassed. "I figured this was a win-win, you know?" He smirks, watching you glare at him. "Thank you, by the way..." He says in a soft whisper. "I feel much better." You roll your eyes, yet your heart flutters to know you did in fact help him.

"Don't ever let me catch you trying to bite me in my sleep again, you got that?" Your eyes shut, exhaustion starting to take you. "Just ask..." You barely get the words out, but Astarion knows. He lets you relax for another moment, your breathing settled into a light sleep.

That went better than he could've expected...

He slinks back to his tent when he thinks you're fully asleep and thinks of how he'll mess with you in the morning when the rest of camp questions that little love bite on your neck.

He falls asleep with a smile on his face, despite his better judgement.

[authenticity2025]

When there’s a fresh wound in your heart, keep it open until it heals. Air it out. Understand it. Dive into it. Be fierce enough to become it. If you ignore it, it won’t be able to breath. If you ignore it, it will merely deepen, spread, and resurface later, wanting to release. And when later happens, it will hurt even more; because when later happens, you won’t know what you’re bleeding for … Remain open to feel free. Victoria Erickson

[baby-xemnas]

😭😭😭

[coldjustness]

We don’t talk about the unspoken disagreement and small ire that is between Neve and Harding at the beginning of the game after Varric dies when they clash hard on how to first approach the new earth shattering conflict.

[darabeatha]

ㅤThen I heard your heart beating.ㅤ You were in the darkness too.ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ... So I stayed in the darkness with you.

[northernember]

What are you doing?

Why are you still holding back?

Have you forgotten what they said to you?

What they Did?

They think you’re a Monster

version without the text;

[gromky]

well <3

He needed his big brother to help him say goodbye to his baby. god.

[sunni-stuff]

fwb!Simon, who grunts out, I love you mid thrust, leaving you rightfully lost for words and unable to question him, not while he was hitting a spot that had your toes curling and stars dancing in your eyes.

It's only afterward that you confront him, sheets pulled up to your chest, trying to assemble some semblance of decency while he gets dressed with deliberate purpose, his back to you as if eager to escape your presence. Scars crisscross his back like a road map of past battles, mingling with the fresh evidence of your fruitless moment of passion—angry red streaks left by your nails, which had clung to him in desperation and abandon.

"Did you mean it?" The meek whisper escapes you as you watch him tug on his shirt, concealing the marks of your shared tryst as though they were nothing more than another wound to bear.

He doesn’t face you, his head slightly turned but unreadable, the balaclava masking any trace of vulnerability or regret. Simon sits on the edge of the bed to put on his boots, the silence stretching between you like a chasm. The weight of your question hangs heavy in the air, rendering him unable—or perhaps unwilling—to answer, though his stoic demeanor betrays nothing.

"Simon, I'm talking to you." Your voice trembles, frustration spilling into your tone.

"I heard you," He mutters, his voice low and clipped, refusing to meet your gaze as he tightens the laces of his boots.

Simon always does this. He always does this—offering you fragments of affection, fleeting and fragile, leaving you grasping at it like sand slipping through your fingers. No matter how tightly you hold on, it escapes, grainy and rough, leaving nothing but emptiness in its wake. How much more could you take? How much longer could he toy with your heart before it finally broke?

"Then say something!" You finally scream, the words sharp and raw, slicing through the oppressive silence like a blade, desperate to shatter the wall he always hides behind.

He stills, shoulders stiffening, and for a moment, you think he might ignore you. But then, he snaps—his voice booming in the small room, rougher than you’ve ever heard it.

"What am I supposed to say?" The words come out like a growl, his frustration spilling over in a way that’s uncharacteristic of his usual control. His head whips around, and though his face is hidden by the balaclava, the intensity in his eyes burns through you.

You flinch, never having seen him angry before, let alone enough to yell at you. The sharpness of his outburst leaves you unnerved—just for a moment. But then your own anger surges forward, overwhelming the tremor of fear. He’s been toying with your heart, leading you along like a puppet, pulling the strings, the conductor of a train you never asked to board.

"Did you mean it?" You ask again, your voice steady now, even as your chest tightens. You meet his brown eyes head-on, the fire in them slowly dimming your own, leaving you to wonder if there’s anything real beneath the cold facade he so carefully constructs.

Again, he doesn’t answer. Typical Simon. Instead, he reaches out, roughened hands cupping your cheeks, his thumb gently rubbing your soft skin. There it was again, that flicker of affection, brief and fleeting, poured into your palms like a delicate offering, expecting you to cherish it, to hold onto the scraps he gives.

But much to his surprise, you pull away, your gaze hardening. For once, you let the sand slip through your fingers, choosing not to cling to something so unreliable, something that always fades just when you think you’ve grasped it.

Simon stares at you in utter shock, his gaze frozen as you move away, laying back down, refusing to face him. He watches in silence as you refuse to look at him anymore with those eyes—those eyes that always regarded him as your guiding sun, the one constant in a world full of uncertainty.

Now, your back is turned to him, the sheets pulled up to your shoulders, leaving him in the dark, unable to see your eyes, the eyes that once held all the softness, the trust, the devotion he’d never truly earned.

There was nothing else that needed or could be said. No oasis in this desert, no water to quench the sand he's suffocated you with. Simon rises, grabbing his jacket and keys from your dresser, his movements mechanical. He wants to look back, wants to see if you're watching him leave, wondering if you’ll be crying like all the times before. The sullen look in your eyes, the one that always made his heart strain, that soft ache whenever he walked away.

But this time, he doesn't look. Not this time. Because he knows there will be no hopeful eyes waiting for him, no quiet plea left in your gaze. Instead, he sees only the remnants of what he’s broken, the red thread that once held you together now frayed beyond repair. He’s a coward, unable to face what he’s done, unwilling to see the damage he’s caused.

[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

arabic — @ughscara

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.

[lyonnerileyauthor]

the prince married you on a warm summer day under cherry blossoms. he called you his most precious thing, and kissed you as if you were the only two people alive. perhaps he wasn’t very gentle with you on your wedding night, but that was how things are, or so your handmaid said.

it was when he began to turn away from you in the night that you felt the frigid wind of change. you had come from another land, another kingdom, and given up everything you knew. should you ever die, it would all fall to him.

on a brisk winter walk, the prince turns to you under that very same cherry tree, now withered like an old crone’s hand. the knife shines in the light reflected off the snow as he drives it into your chest. while blood drips from your lips, he leaves you for the wolves to find.

you beg and plead for this not to be the end. you want revenge.

that is when He comes, stepping through a gash in the world.

his horns are tall and straight, his features both those of a man and a wolf. behind him flows a long, black cape, only partially disguising his naked body. fur rolls down from his hips to his cloven hooves.

“so intent on living.” he bends down over you, tracing the blood that dribbles down your face. “and what would you do, should I give you another chance?”

the words come out a gurgle. “I would kill him.”

this clearly pleases him. he licks the blood off of you, delighting in the taste. at last his mouth settles over yours, his tongue sliding between your lips. it is soft and yet demanding, delicious and sinful.

all at once, fresh breath fills your lungs. you sit up in the snow, and though your dress is soaked with your blood, no wound remains at all. he helps you to your feet, never once letting go of your hand.

“you made a promise,” he says in your ear, nibbling your lobe. “don’t forget.”

it is easy to find the prince where he sleeps in his bed. with the same dagger, you pry open his flesh and withdraw his beating heart. it is a gift to your new lover.

He is pleased with your work, and rewards you with his thick cock. he is gentle in a way the prince wasn’t, but never relenting in his claim on your pleasure. with the deed done, he takes you back to hell with him, where you can be a princess once more.

[dmitriene]

being simon's riley sweet wife, never does anyone, and he himself, thought he would end up as a married man, but the bond between you goes further than the common surname you wear on your heart and the shared gold rings on your fingers, allowing everyone around you to clearly understand that you belong to each other, neat initials carved into the inside of the ring, hidden.

a lamb and a knife, that's how your bond look in the eyes of others, but if usually a knife intends to slash and harm, simon is the blade that protects you, provides for you, his most important duty is to make sure that you don't need anything, entwined with comfort, for the sake of which he is ready more than to stain his hands with rivers of viscous blood, just so that you don't lift a single finger, because you don't need to, not with him.

the least you can do is wait for him, welcome him with a warm meal on the stove and tender kisses pressed against his bared face, you treat his fresh wounds with clean bandages, you help him wash himself when he's too exhausted to even utter a single word, and there's no way a proper husband can come home and not welcome his wife with a soft coos of gratitude, yet sometimes simon can't even find this needed strength within him to hug you against his chest, and you don't need it.

you know simon enough to know that there's no love in the words uttered, it's in what people do and what paths they are willing to take for you, and he is ready to move mountains, looking at you like a faithful dog, with a sparkle of adoration that is so intransient to the murky depths of his tired, amber eyes, the gentle touches of his calloused hands as he caresses your hands and cups the sides of your face, snuggling up to you in search of comfort, in search of love.

you complete the part of simon that he has been missing, allowing him to feel complete, worthy of the tenderness and adoration you show him, caressing his wounded body and burying your hands in his soul, not resisting his hungry, desperate kisses as he licks into your mouth, squeezing every curve of your supple, warm body between his fingers with longed greed.

and when you part your thighs to his swirling gaze, showing how wet and needy you are under your panties, pussy aching specially for him with oozing slick, thick palm cupping at your clothed mound to sprawl his fingers across the soaked cotton fabric, wedding band glistening under the light right between your puffy folds that twitch at the touch, simon knows you're the best thing that ever happened to him.

main masterlist. quidelines.