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a-mermaids-heart · 2 years

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someone, i tell you, in another time will remember us (part i)

Pairing: Vi x fem!reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, panic attack, death Summary: You meet your childhood crush again, years later.

Read part ii.

A/N: I wanted yearning and angst!! ***

Your evening routine goes like this:

You help your mother with her daily dose of shimmer, make your bed, and ignore the dead girl in the corner of your cramped room. She never says anything, but you know what she would say if she could speak, just like in your dreams.

It hurts less, to think of her as just a girl and not as your sister. On good days, you don’t see her, or she only appears in your peripheral vision.

But it never lasts long.

Your family had been bigger, once, but you don’t like to linger on that either.

Which, if you were honest with yourself, is hard to do. Everywhere you go in Zaun reminds you of them, and what you lost. The Last Drop had been a second home to you. You and your sister used to spend all of your time with Vi and Powder. You were a year older than Powder, and both of you being little sisters, had quickly bonded over that. You even confided in her about your crush on Vi. Unlike Powder’s, however, your big sister never let you come on any of their heists.

And then, the same night you’d lost everyone, you’d gotten your sister killed.

This evening, however, is different. You’re completing your last run through a back alley—

Pain tears through your left shoulder. Before you can react, you fall hard against the opposite wall. Your vision swims, the pain all consuming. You might have passed out, but the pain never fades.

After what feels like ages later, a blur—a person? Crouches over you. Familiar pink hair, blue eyes, freckles.

Of course. Of course you’d see her as you were dying. “Vi,” you try to say, or maybe you really do. You’re not sure as unconsciousness drags you under.

—

When you next wake, it is in an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar bed. Fresh air flows through the open window. Gingerly, you sit up and feel your head, which still aches. Someone has changed you into your underclothes, but they’d obviously been washed. The room you’re in is cozy, round, with rough wooden floors and walls. There are trees outside.

But where are you? And—your mother. You were late—

The room blurs as your eyes fill with tears. Before you had passed out, you were supposed to deliver it within the hour. Your mother—what if she—

The dead girl, your dead sister, floats closer to your bed. She smiles and rests her hand on your cheek. You can almost feel it, her thumb stroking your cheek, just like she did when you were little. She speaks: “Mama is just like me, now.”

Between one blink and the next, your sister’s face disappears, replaced by—

Vi cradles your face in her hands. She’s saying something, and it takes a moment for the ringing in your ears to fade and for you to take in what she says. She’s repeating your name.

“Vi?” You ask, voice hoarse.

She smiles, leaning closer to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah, it’s me, sweetheart. You’re alright. Breathe with me.”

You tremble and cold sweat prickles down the back of your neck. You listen to the rise and fall of her breath, trying to match her rhythm. Dimly, you’re aware of other people leaving the room, leaving you and Vi alone. Vi hands you a glass of water from the bedside table. You gulp it down, wiping your face. She certainly looks different, and hasn’t given up fighting judging by her muscular arms.

Your throat tightens with tears. You grip the bedsheets to hide your shaking hands. What do you ask first? What do you say? All you can blurt is, “I don’t understand. You’re not dead?”

“I’m not. There’s a lot to explain.”

Numbly, you listen as Vi explains how that fateful night really went down, and why she couldn’t be here until now. She also explains how you’d ended up here—she’d fought with Sevika, who had crashed into you, causing you to fall against the opposite wall and hit your head. Vi and a new friend (she wasn’t specific on the details) carried your unconscious body and encountered Jinx before being taken by the Firelights. Your skin prickles at the mention of Jinx—you’ve never seen her, but she has a fearsome reputation.

You resist the urge to reach for Vi again, feeling like she’ll disappear. Get a grip, you think, it’s been years. She never liked you back, anyway.

“How long was I out?” You ask instead, dreading the answer.

“Just for the night,” Vi says. To your surprise, she reaches out and takes your hands, squeezing them tight. Her familiar rough hand wraps almost make you tear up again. She did the same when you were both younger, whenever you got scared. Her hands are just as steady now. “Ekko wants me to tell you that your mother is okay.”

The tightness in your chest eases. “Wait—I don’t understand, how does he know—”

“Ah, well, apparently he’s formed this group—the Firelights. They’ve been keeping tabs on you.”

Part of you is a little hurt that he never reached out, but another part understands perfectly why he didn’t, considering the line of work you do. Reluctantly, you release her hands, running your own through your sweaty hair and flopping back on the pillows, exhausted all of a sudden. You peek one eye open to see Vi gazing at you. Quickly, you close your eyes again, before you can linger at the bow of her lips or the warmth in her eyes.

“What?” You ask.

“You just look different. All grown up,” she says.

“I bet I look like shit.”

“You look tired.” Vi squeezes your knee briefly, then stands. “Rest a while longer—”

“Don’t go!” The words are out before you can feel embarrassed.

She brushes two fingers lightly along your cheek. “I’ll be right outside, I promise.”

You watch her leave, shame heating your face. Ridiculous. Seeing her once, and now you are just as flustered as you’d been when you were younger.

Vi is, indeed outside the door once you finish washing up. Your head still hurts, but your vision is steady, and you feel like a new person freshly scrubbed and in clean clothes.

Her face lights up when she sees you, but before she can say anything, the dark-haired woman beside her speaks, “You’re awake, then?”

“Yes,” you say. She introduces herself as Caitlyn, and you introduce yourself as well. “Thank you. For not leaving me.”

“Vi insisted. It was tricky carrying you, I’m surprised you’re not more bruised.”

“Oh,” you reply. It seems moronic to say “thank you” again. Her probing stare makes you uncomfortable. It doesn’t feel like she’s being outright hostile—maybe lugging around your unconscious body annoyed her? The small hallway steeps in awkward silence.

You’re spared another grueling conversation when three cloaked figures round the corner. Still feeling vulnerable, you step closer to Vi. Her hand, familiar and calloused, finds yours and squeezes. Blushing, you start to turn to her when one of the figures flips his hood back.

Deep brown eyes meet yours. You both pause to take in each other’s features—he looks so grown up. You run into his arms. Ekko laughs and squeezes you tight. “Hey, you.”

You pull back and hit his shoulder lightly. “I can’t believe you didn’t come find me!”

Some of his brightness dims a little in sadness. “I didn’t—I didn’t know if I’d be welcome. After what happened with your sister.”

You feel Vi’s stare boring into the side of your face, and hot shame tightens your throat again. You close your eyes so you don’t see your sister’s ghost. Ekko pulls you into another hug, and says so only you can hear, “I’m sorry.”

You squeeze him back and reluctantly let go. It’s so nice to see him again. “Thank you. For looking after my mother.”

“It’s no trouble. We’ll continue to, until you’re recovered. I’d like to bring her here but…”

You shake your head. “No. This is more than enough.”

You’re happy to avoid Vi and Caitlyn as Ekko shows you around, (though you can tell they’re both whispering to each other) explains how he founded the Firelights. Your aching heart is soothed a bit by the leaves and trees and more fresh air than you’ve ever imagined. You can scarcely believe that it’s real. Ekko finishes showing you around, and you make a beeline to your room to rest, to process.

It doesn’t take long for Vi to come in (though, hadn’t you locked the door?) you don’t look at her as you tug on a sweatshirt Ekko left for you. You’ve always run cold.

Vi sighs and runs a hand back through her hair, sitting next to you on the bed. You used to do this, when you were younger. You would mess up, and afraid of telling your sister, you’d go to Vi instead. And she’d either assure you it would be okay, that your sister wouldn’t be disappointed in you, or help you talk to her herself. You wished she could do that now, but having her here is enough. And you’d both sit, just like this.

Your hands are close enough that her pinky rests against yours, and it somehow feels scalding. There’s a loose thread on the black sweatshirt Ekko gave you, three of them actually— “You won’t look at me?” Vi’s voice breaks the silence.

Steeling yourself, you turn and look, and your pulse pounds in your ears anyway. She looks so achingly familiar and new all at once. You don’t want to talk about it, and you scramble for anything else to say, so you blurt out what comes to mind: “Do you trust Caitlyn?”

“She saved my life.”

That isn’t an answer, you think, but don’t say. “Are you okay? I mean, really okay, after Stillwater, after everything?”

Vi’s breath catches for a moment, and then she laughs wryly. “I have to be, don’t I?”

“You don’t,” you say. You want to follow it up with “because I’ll help you.” But what use would you be, really? When you were younger, any time you tried to help, fix something, you’d break it. And now, your best skill is running. Running away. You can’t even fight. Instead, what comes out is, “You can talk to me.” It feels like an empty offering.

Vi takes your hand and squeezes. “You can talk to me too.”

Your breath shudders, because you want to, all of a sudden everything feels like too much, like your chest is a floodgate. But you can’t because what would you say? My sister is dead because of me. There’s not much else to explain.

You’re not sure why it’s all coming to the surface now. Maybe because, Vi has always meant safety, has always meant home.

Keeping hold of your hand, she slips off the bed to kneel in front of you. You squeeze your eyes shut until her other hand cups your cheek. “Hey.” You open your eyes, blinking away tears. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.”

You laugh and wipe at your eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“I know you.”

Shaking your head, you lean back from her touch. As much as you missed her kindness, it hurts too much. “I’m fine. It was years ago.”

Vi doesn’t move. Her gaze pins you and you’re helpless but to look at her. When she speaks again, her voice is soft, “Ekko filled me in. Just his side but it was enough for me to know—it wasn’t your fault. Shit, sweetheart, you were just a kid.”

Biting your lip against the tears, you shake your head again. This is too much. This isn’t even what’s important right now. Vi reaches up, thumb brushing the tears away from your cheek. Your breath catches in your throat as her thumb grazes your lower lip. She pulls away before you can do something stupid, and stands, collapsing on the bed beside you.

“Mind if I stay?”

You flop down next to her, both on your sides facing each other. You ache to move closer to her, to bask in her reassurance like you used to. It suddenly feels like every night of missing her comes back full force. But your eyes sting, and you’re so tired, you don’t want to cry anymore. She sees the sorrow in your face anyway and presses her thumb against the divot between your brows.

“I missed you,” she says, and, “you saved me. In there.”

You snort. “How so? I didn’t even try and find you.”

“With Powder, I knew I had to get back to her. You, I didn’t—” she pauses, swallowing hard. “I didn’t know what happened to you. I knew I had to find you, or if you were gone—find whoever was responsible. It kept me going.”

You don’t know what to say to that, without spilling your heart out to her. Your hand twitches towards hers, and before you can take it, she grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together. Heat rushes up your face and you try to ignore it, squeezing her hand. “I missed you too.” You swallow, trying to find the words, wondering if there’s too much longing in your voice, if you’ve already given too much away. “I’m sorry you were stuck in there.”

She brings your hands a little closer, thumb tracing patterns on your skin. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

You watch her eyes, and when that becomes overwhelming, drink in the other features of her face—the new eyebrow scar, how her face has sharpened. You trace the line of her throat, the gear tattoo peeking out from her jacket collar. You wonder what you must look like to her, if her heartbeat quickens like yours if you stare too long. Your eyelids start to droop and you blink awake in time to catch Vi gazing at you, face soft.

Your gaze snags on her lips. I could kiss her.

“You can sleep,” she whispers.

You scoot away and sit up, trying to calm your racing heart. Heat flares through you, electric like always when you’re near her. “I slept too much already.” You pause, unsure what to say. You don’t know what the next step for her is. “You have to go, right?”

“I do.”

“Can I…” you’re scared. What if she says no? “Can I come?”

To your surprise, Vi’s lips almost quirk into a smile. “Of course. Let’s go.”

***

Read part ii.

#vi x reader #arcane x reader #arcane 2021 #arcane fic #reader-insert #fem!reader #fanfic #seemingly unrequited love #LISTEN I WANTED ANGST AND YEARNING #self-indulgent #vi #vi arcane #idk how tags work or how Tumblr works for that matter #Emma-Writes #arcane #arcane vi x reader

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sociallyawkwardfoxwriter · 1 year

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Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M, Multi Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Relationships: Orym/Dorian Storm/Will | Orym's Spouse, Orym/Dorian Storm, Orym/Will | Orym's Spouse (Critical Role), Dorian Storm/Will | Orym's Spouse Characters: Dorian Storm, Orym (Critical Role), Will | Orym's Spouse (Critical Role), Cyrus Wyvernwind Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Flirting, Bartender Orym, Doubt, Confusion, Anxiety, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Fluff, Conversations, First Dates, Dating, Kissing, Drinking

Summary: When Fearne suggested they try a new bar for their weekly cocktail hour, he didn't expect anything to come of it. He didn't expect to make a fool out of himself or to come back again after messing up so badly. He definitely didn't expect to fall in love with a married couple.

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“Whose turn is it to buy drinks?” Opal scrutinized the table with narrowed eyes, then pointed a perfectly manicured finger at him. “Dorian! Your turn! I want another sex on the beach.”

A chorus of drink orders were thrown out for him to hopefully remember correctly when he got a bartender's attention. He echoed them over and over again in his head as he slipped through the crowded room to reach the bar. Three bartenders worked around each other to fulfill orders from the people crowded around every inch of the bar. Patiently, he waited for his turn, only for more people to force their way through to demand their orders.

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lilprincegoo · 1 year

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death by a thousand cuts by lvlyvmk

jimin/taehyung/jungkook

Seemingly unrequited love, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, A LOT of Hurt before the Comfort

22.7k words

rating: E

jimin has never felt like an outsider before, not when it comes to taehyung and jungkook. he’s always known that his place is right between the two of them, nestled comfortably between his favorite people. he’s never felt unwanted, unnecessary—three’s a crowd, or so the saying goes, but it has never applied to them. until now. - taehyung and jungkook start dating. jimin tries (and fails) to cope.

#ship: vminkook #jimin/taehyung/jungkook #seemingly unrequited love #pining #angst #hurt/comfort #jimin-centric #jimin ship #taehyung ship #jungkook ship #established pair adding another #ao3 #bts ficrec #bts fic rec #ship: poly #ship: ot3

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lighthouseas · 16 days

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malakai mitchell you have never done anything wrong in your life. get behind me

#heartbreak high #why was everyone shitting on him all season??? he was being dumb sure but also this poor kid JUST figured out hes bi and then his ex dated #-his other ex and he was expected to NOT be jealous??? and then his ex bf turned out to be lowkey dangerous??? AND THEN HE HAD TO MOVE???#-WHILE ALSO BEING IN SEEMINGLY UNREQUITED LOVE???#giving him the biggest hug ever. i feel so bad for the poor guy ....#malakai mitchell #bee.txt

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i-did-not-mean-to · 9 days

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YOTP - April

I've only realised now that this has never been posted! I am so sorry! I am really not super good at keeping track of these things.

Pairing: Caranthir x Finrod

Prompts: pranks, canon divergence, (seemingly) unrequited love, "No, I am not dating your brother", peace, university

Words: 2 205

Warnings: sadness, insecurity, misunderstanding

Caranthir frowned.

His brothers would have qualified his present mood as cantankerous—he would have called it the “status quo”.

As such minor inconsistencies in vocabulary did nothing to dispel the storm clouds sitting heavily on his fair brow, though, he put the thought from his mind and returned his focus to the vexing problem at hand.

Before him, in the middle of his perfectly orderly desk, flanked by neatly arranged stacks of notes and copies, lay a garish flyer, announcing the upcoming spring ball organised by and held at his university.

Usually, Caranthir managed to avoid this kind of overly dramatized, idiotic social gathering, but a strange sense of unease and helpless frustration had kept him from simply throwing away the crumpled piece of paper.

He wanted to go.

Of course, he would rather have bitten off his own tongue than admitted as much to anyone alive, but a part of him was sick and tired of being perpetually alone—undeniably unloved and universally unwelcome.

Nonsense, he chided himself sternly. It would only exacerbate his reputation as an unpleasant curmudgeon and his subsequent misery if he were to turn up alone and uninvited to a party where everyone else was making out in deserted classrooms and unsanitary lavatories.

“Good grief!” he exclaimed softly and pushed the flyer under a stack of homework—he was already late for his afternoon classes, and he’d rather not lose any more time just moping around.

The first thing he saw upon stalking into the much too brightly lit foyer of the university was his brother, winsome as ever, and his mood soured even further.

Leaning suavely against a very old, very valuable pillar, Maglor was entirely caught up in a hushed conversation and thus didn’t notice his younger brother sweeping past dramatically.

Caranthir’s heart sank—for a fleeting moment, he had considered approaching Finrod to find out whether he had any intention of attending the laughable circus that was upon them.

He knew for a fact that his co-student—ridiculously radiant and blindingly handsome—was not entirely averse to mopey, overly serious, and unbearably stiff specimens of his own gender; after all, he had dated Turgon, the only man who could compete with Caranthir’s glowering looks and hostile demeanour, for a while.

Considering how bright-eyed Finrod now looked, though, as he hung on Maglor’s full, sensual lips pointed to another conclusion: the cheery, popular, charming object of all Caranthir’s repressed desires had surely grown tired of men of his calibre. It made sense—unfortunately, that sober realisation did nothing to alleviate the painful twinge in Caranthir’s heart despite the quick onset of gruesome rationalisation and well-rehearsed self-denial.

Huffing an unnerved sigh, he hastened up the winding steps and slammed down his supplies on an old, worn table, determined to lose himself in his statistics class. He’d think of that silly ball and his agonising loneliness no more.

As soon as the class was dismissed, Caranthir slipped into the comforting silence of the library so he could make sure that he’d not meet anyone else, crush or sibling, once he was ready to return to the self-imposed isolation of his childhood room.

There was much work to be done, and he prided himself on his irrefutable excellence. This, he knew he could not only do, but do well, and so he disappeared into theories and long lists in his sullen escape from the bleak reality of wanting.

Every so often, his phone vibrated in his pocket, but Caranthir didn’t feel like reading the updates in the family groupchat, undoubtedly pertaining to the exciting plans of his various brothers to which he was never invited anyway.

The sun had gone down and the world seemed to have been dipped into translucent black ink by the time he re-emerged from his frenzied study session, and Caranthir dragged himself to his locker reluctantly.

A pounding headache was taking root behind his bleary eyes, and it took him a moment to realise that the flash of white he’d only vaguely registered upon tugging at the rusted metal door was a note addressed to none other than himself.

With trembling fingers, he unfolded the missive and gasped. It was an invitation to the very party he’d refused to obsess about all day long, and it was unsigned.

Caranthir was known for having no patience for this kind of childish game, but—as nobody but the mysterious sender—knew about this, he didn’t have to pretend that he was utterly untouched by the instinctive excitement such a communication would have incited in any living soul.

Nevertheless, before his fancy could absolutely get the better of him, he shoved the precious paper under a stack of hefty tomes and went to bed without expecting to find much sleep with the way his heart was pounding, and his mind was racing.

“Lame,” Beren commented as he folded a half-torn flyer into a paper aeroplane and sent it sailing across the spotty lawn. “How about you come with me and Lúthien instead? She’s had a rad plan for…”

“Something illegal?” Finrod interrupted pointedly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t be your get-away driver this time—I’ve been recruited by another mischievous rogue for his morally questionable scheme.”

“Oh? Tell me all about it,” Beren exclaimed, suddenly no longer fashionably bored by the mundane and yet deeply moving intrigues of the small university his friend attended. “I truly hope there is a handsome someone involved…”

“Several,” Finrod purred.

“Not your stuffy ex, though?”

Shaking his golden head, Finrod leaned back on his elbows and stared at the sky wistfully—he had no doubt that, once he’d explained the whole ploy to Beren—he’d be mocked cruelly for his fatal weakness when it came to overly serious, lethally handsome men with dark hair and flashing eyes.

“Your stuffy crush, then? A bird has told me that you were seen in an intimate conference with Maglor,” Beren—who somehow always managed to stumble upon the most extraordinary bits of information—drawled provocatively.

“If you know everything already, there’s no point in testing my patience!”

At once, the shaggy-haired youngster lifted his hands—palms outward—in a gesture of apology and goodwill. “No need to be so touchy! My source, of course, misunderstood and speculated that you might go to the ball with the pretty singer. That doesn’t sound right to me, does it? Tell me then, what is going on?”

“He’s asked me whether I’d consider inviting his brother to the party,” Finrod replied anticlimactically. “And I’ve agreed.”

“So, it’s some elaborate hoax?” Beren cocked one eyebrow in unashamed scepticism. “You know that you’re allowed to disagree with people, right? You may say that their idea, at the root, is not a bad one, but also express your uneasiness when it comes to their way of going about things. This sounds like one of those stories that get you into serious trouble only because you were too kind to share your doubts.”

He took a deep breath, the corners of his mouth downturned expressively still, and then shrugged lopsidedly. “So, did you ask the brother out?”

“I’ve sent him an anonymous letter,” Finrod confessed—he’d just been all but explicitly called a coward, which took the wind out of his sails regarding his big reveal.

“Sounds more and more like a prank,” Beren groaned. “You bloody fool. What’s his name again? Cat something?”

“Caranthir,” Finrod sighed longingly. “’Moryo’ to his brothers, hitherto ‘unobtainable’ to me…”

Nodding seriously, Beren pondered the matter for a while. “Say,” he then piped up, startling Finrod out of his own longing thoughts, “how will he let you know whether he accepts or rejects your invitation?”

“I thought that I’d wait for him in the foyer, flowers and all, a banner maybe…” Finrod admitted sheepishly.

As expected, Beren was highly in favour of that ploy, and, strangely enough, his very enthusiasm—earnest and exuberant—gave Finrod pause. He knew that this friend would have broken into the darkest, dankest dungeon or wrestled a wild beast for his girlfriend, but Lúthien was a woman who expected and enjoyed ridiculously grand gestures—Finrod was almost certain that Caranthir was not.

“Wish me luck, man,” he muttered as he changed his mind and cut his timeline in half. “I’ve got to run!”

He’d pick his secret date up at home, he decided, so as to give Caranthir a chance to let him down discreetly without anyone but his brothers witnessing the embarrassing scene. It was a sacrifice, and it left Finrod very little time to make all the purchases he’d planned, but he was now sure that this was the right way to go about his own grandiose gesture.

Caranthir paced across his room nervously; he felt foolish for having gotten ready for a party he might very well not attend after all.

Fingon had arrived 20 minutes earlier and was presently regaling his parents with funny stories while Maedhros was trying desperately to keep from blushing every five seconds—Caranthir hated them, and he loathed his father’s throaty, echoing laughter booming through the whole house.

Celegorm and Curufin had also already left; as always, they had “things to do” before even considering going to the ball, and everybody only half-expected them to make an appearance.

The twins had gone to the cinema with friends, and Maglor was sitting on the stairs, yowling to himself.

Drowning in an ocean of sound and life, Caranthir felt profoundly lonely.

And then, the doorbell rang.

At once, he threw his door open and hastened out onto the landing only to hear Maglor’s pleasant voice. “Ah, finally. I’ve been awaiting you.”

Of course, Caranthir thought bitterly. His brother had secured a date with the most beautiful, eligible bachelor on campus, a fact he’d banished into the remotest corners of his usually meticulously rational mind.

Now, though, the envy and jealousy almost made him black out with impuissant rage—here he stood, in a suit he’d stolen from Maglor’s wardrobe and embroidered in long hours of painstaking labour, to be the only one left behind, again.

Not that anyone would notice, he thought miserably; everyone was so enthralled by their own pleasure and delight that nobody would even remember that he, sullen and unloved, was still puttering around in his room.

“Good evening, Maglor,” Finrod’s chiming voice resounded, followed by a suspicious pause. “Will those do?”

“Carnations,” the gracious host cooed in his most detestable singsong tone. “How adorable!”

Caranthir was already halfway back in his room when he heard his name being called, no yelled, up the stairs for Maglor’s voice carried far and wide, and nobody could outrun it.

“Moryo, for Eru’s sake, tell me you’re ready! Nelyo said you were good to go half an hour ago…”

Leaping down the stairs two by two, Caranthir came to a slithering halt—wide-eyed and rosy-cheeked—in the brightly lit entrance, only nearly missing a stunningly handsome Finrod who was kneading a bouquet of bright red flowers in his slender hands.

“I wasn’t sure you’d accept my invitation,” the latest arrival said carefully. “So I thought I’d give you a chance to politely decline without witnesses present.”

“Ooops, that’s my cue,” Maglor laughed and moonwalked into the living room and out of sight.

“I…But…I thought you were taking out my brother,” Caranthir stammered, his eyes darting between Finrod’s luminous face and Maglor’s retreating frame. “Aren’t you dating?”

Throwing his head back, Finrod gave a merry peel of laughter. “No, silly, I’m not dating your brother. Maglor, as ever fond of dramatics, has graciously agreed to be my confidant in this.”

Caranthir gave a strangled hum of doubt and insecurity, dreading the imminent and inevitable arrival of the others on the scene, laughing at how gullible he was, to share a ride or just to distract their father so someone could steal some liquor from his private cabinet, and rubbed his thumbs bemusedly against his other fingers in a desperate attempt to soothe the contradictory impulses and desires raging within his chest.

“Please, say something,” Finrod pleaded. “I realise now that it was cowardly not to ask you in person, but—after Turgon—I wasn’t feeling quite brave enough to stomach another rejection…”

“Rejection,” Caranthir jeered feebly. “Of course, I wouldn’t have declined. I’m not doing so now—I just need a moment.”

“Certainly,” Finrod said fervently, extending his battered bouquet jerkily as if he’d forgotten that it was there. “Here, these are for you. They compliment your charming complexion.”

“Charming complexion,” Caranthir muttered mockingly. “Sure thing, my man.”

“You’re lovely—you must know that!” Heartened by the quasi-acceptance he’d been granted against all odds, Finrod quickly grew bolder and grabbed one of Caranthir’s pale, trembling hands. “I will make it up to you; I promise. Please say you’ll be my date for tonight!”

“Very well! As you can see, I’m already dressed. Let’s go before Maglor wants us to go over in a big cluster of noise and strangely clad limbs…lest you’d prefer going with my brothers?”

“They’re of no consequence,” Finrod assured him. “Let me walk you to your carriage then.”

And, extending his arm gallantly, he promptly abducted Caranthir from his parental home unnoticed.

How did those two become one of my OTPs? Nobody knows (well one person certainly does)!

Anyway, thanks for indulging me!

-> Masterlist

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talesfromthebitterbeast · 2 months

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The hand that grabs her arm is familiar - and gentle - and so Diya does not pull away. She turns easily as Grant moves her, tugs her towards a corner. His eyes, when she looks up at him, look almost panicked. That is unexpected. “Grant?” Worry colours her tone.

“Don’t go,” he tells her, his hand trailing down from her elbow to her hand. He holds her lightly, as if wanting to tangle their fingers together but unsure if she will let him. She takes the decision out of his hands, turning hers so that their palms meet. Grant melts closer to her at that, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on hers. His other hand comes up to her cheek, and Diya shudders out a breath. “Stay with me,” he murmurs.

She sways up, closer to him, free hand gripping at his shirt even as she says, “I can’t.” She wants to, gods does she want to, but she also knows he’s only asking her out of some sense of responsibility. Not because he feels the same way she does, even if there’s a wretched look on his face that makes her heart twist in her chest. “It’ll be okay,” she says, she lies, she pretends her heart isn’t breaking in her chest. “I’ll be okay.”

He looks at her, and she wonders if he can see right through her to the heart breaking in her chest. Wonders if she can see the way she wishes with everything in her that he’s asking her because he loves her and not just because he’s worried for her. Diya forces a smile on her face, and Grant closes his eyes as if pained. “Will you?”

Diya swallows down her tears and squeezes his hand gently, and reminds him, “I always am.” Physically, at least, she always is. Emotionally, well, her heart’s been breaking slowly for years now, and she’s still standing.

an excerpt from a story i'm not writing

#( seemingly unrequited love my beloved )#ara writes #excerpt

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crossbackpoke-check · 6 months

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V random but I’m in my Brockpetey feels could I listen to your 46 60 playlist!!

of course!! the first playlist i mentioned in the tags is actually not mine—it belongs to ash @notthequiettype and is a soundtrack to their wonderful fic Lake Rules (go read it if you haven’t already!!! highly recommend!!!)

annnd this one is my personal brockpetey vibes playlist

happy listening!!!

#liv in the replies #sadcanucksfan #also!! ash if you want me to unlink/untag please let me know and i will!!!#this one got bumped up because it’s currently relevant (i just posted brockpetey content) the rest of them will be scheduled in the queue 🫡#if i don’t do it now i will lose all links and ability to find things #as for my brockpetey i have zero reasons for any of the songs besides minnesota. it’s all vibes no thoughts.#minnesota to me is the quintessential brock petey song topped only (but really equaled) by charm you (also by samia)#like minnesota i would love to say is a joke but i really heard that song for the first time YEARS ago and went oh my fucking god.#i’m going back to minnesota huh #and then CHARM YOU??? AN ACT OF VIOLENCE AGAINST ME PERSONALLY????#you’re telling me there’s the lyrics ‘kissin you would be like kissin on the USA’ & ‘flying while i’m lying that i hate LA’ & it’s not 406?#(addition that i wasn’t gonna tell you but i have to tell y’all because it’s relevant to Me. samia is so so so so good live.)#(also i haven’t added it to the playlist because it’s sad but kill her freak out has narrative potential as brockpetey. also????#they’re all somehow petey pov to me. sometimes people just get assigned bands in my head for no reason & i think samia is petey’s vibe band.#BESIDES bbno$ which is canon lmao. spiritually petey is a samia song to me i guess idk why either sorry but kill her freak out #is a (seemingly you know how i am) unrequited brock/petey for when brock got his gf. thank u for your time i hate it too just listen to it)#also no statements about my music taste i will cry. if you hate it don’t tell me if you have recs do tell me #although i do have a joke playlist compiled of all the songs brock has been screencapped listening to because. why not. it’s fun and also #has that man ever listened to a single lyric in his life. what the FUCK is up with your chill playlist bud none of those songs are chill.#lovingly. ripping my hair out. the amount of times he listens to fast car like???? girl are you okay.#anyway this is ur reminder i miss stalking people on spotify let me see your music taste cowards.#ALSO #IF I THINK TOO LONG ABOUT PETEY IN MINNESOTA I WILL LOSE MY SHIT SO I AM NOT JUST KNOW THAT I CLICKED THE FIC & SKRTED I CAN’T HAVE EMOTIONS #if i did not have someplace to be at precisely 7:50AM i would be having a full breakdown please believe me.#oh also ALSO bonus points if you figure out what the numbers in the name are :)

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estbela · 4 months

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Me thinking about the fact that during the 19th and 20th centuries there were several proposals to unify romania and bulgaria, mostly made by bulgarians: alrighty, now how can I make this angsty

#Just talking recreationally #Hetalia #Bulgaria #Romania #Aph #Hws #Yeah im feeling brave today and maintagging my random thoughts XD #Ro/bul is like my main ship when im looking for angst and shit. The opportunities are endless #I like that they werent always allies yknow?#Ill be honest I also like unrequited/one-sided ro/bul(at first) with bul being in love. Like head over heels for Ro #While romania seemingly is not.#And like. In my hc romania has commitment issues and trust issues(i will elaborate on this one day haha) in general so like.#He might care about bulgaria somewhat(and might even love him?) but the proposals for an union kinda Scare him.#And even if they were allowed to unite. He has so many fears about that. Most of them boil down to:#“What if we are incompatible. What if we ruin our friendship. What if it ends badly.”#I mean. They last time they were sorta united was during the second(and maybe first?? Idk at the moment) bulgarian empire.#And they didnt always get along even then. Etc etc #Im tired atm so sorry if some of these dont make sense. My hcs and ideas are actually a bit more complex but I dont feel like really #Explaining them at the moment. Also if I messed up some history sorry. Also a lot of ideas for their relationship I didnt even mention haha #Do people even read the tags

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olicreates · 4 months

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Ineffable husbands is making my cry so hard. i have been bawling for a solid thirty minutes over them now what is this

#ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens #good omens season 2 #seriously i havent even finished watching it yet and im sobbing #just knowing theres looming heartbreak #also might be my typical teenager hormone imbalance bc everything makes me cry these days #especially (seemingly) unrequited love

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tvrningout-a · 9 months

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thinking about how back when i was first writing chiyo, i would describe her emotions as water, the ocean, how it would drown her vs. now when i go and compare her emotional cage as a garden she's allowed to become overgrown and the gate to get all rusted. put them together and what do you get... hanahaki disease but instead of unrequited love it's just unspoken feelings in general that cause it and chiyo's absolutely ill with it and hiding it too well

#but maybe a touch of ( seemingly ) unrequited love if you want <3 asdf #i'm talking nonsense bc the hour is getting late and i've been silly all night but it's something to think about #and i like thinking about how the imagery surrounding chiyo has changed over the years #like i used to associate her heavily with the moon and she's still got a connection with water bc she still loves storms and being caught #in the rain (who's gonna play in the rain with her?? scold her when she catches a cold??)#but i do like using an enclosed garden as a representation of her emotional state as well #i'm just rambling y'all so if you're still reading thank you u3u #get ready to ramble | ooc

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only10tion · 2 years

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CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS /dies immediately/

#this has become my favorite trope recently #shows™#ALSO THE FACT THAT ITS USUALLY COMBINED WITH LONG TERM SEEMINGLY UNREQUITED LOVE???? just kill me immediately #my only 12%#plus and minus #cherry blossoms after winter

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izzy-b-hands · 1 year

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Doing a little mini Vampire AU thing with Izzy and Ed and everyone else. Not sure how many after this one, but we'll see. No titles, just numbering these. Thus far shipwise: stizzy, a hint of potential blackhands, with more to be revealed if I actually get all of this written. No guarantee, but I'm gonna try my damnedest.

TW blood, mentions of violence, sex.

---

"Well, I asked for the other type, didn't I?" Ed tosses the bag of blood to his feet. A dark red stain crosses the floor with it.

"This was all I could get," Izzy sighs, and picks the bag of O negative off the floor. "I asked for others, but people aren't donating as often-"

"And that's my problem how? There are other hospitals in town, Iz. We've been over this," Ed scoffs, then sighs. "Sorry. Just hungry."

"I know," Izzy says softly, and rolls up the sleeve of his black button up shirt.

"You don't have to do that," Ed says at the sight. "I'm being bitchy because I'm hungry, but you don't have to-"

He gives Ed a fierce look. Ed never asks for it but Ed never has. Never will. That doesn't mean Izzy doesn't know what's expected of him.

He hisses at the slip of Ed's fangs into the thin skin of his wrist. His most preferred spot, which Ed remembered. Easier to hide later, both from others and himself. Two tiny marks, but an enormous reminder that once again he's a walking blood bag, a loyal familiar, but not tasty or loyal enough to drain and finally turn.

He often wonders which of the two factors is the bigger reason why Ed won't turn him. He knows he'll probably never find out.

"I should stop," Ed lifts his head from Izzy's wrist. "Your legs are shaking. Come sit here, at least."

He falls beside Ed on the ornate black velvet couch. "What else needs doing that I've missed?"

Ed frowns, in between the licking of his lips. "We can talk about that later. Let's get you cleaned up first."

Ed yanks the first aid kit from under the couch, but Izzy takes it from him right away.

Ed hasn't done this part for him in years. He doesn't expect him to start again now.

"In a bad mood?" Ed asks testily.

Izzy bites the inside of his mouth. Yes, he sort of is. The whole day has been shit, and the last thing he wanted was Ed angry over this food delivery.

Instead, he shakes his head as he cleans up his wrist. "Sorry, boss. Bit tired, think it's starting to show."

"I think it is too," Ed says. "Don't worry about the rest of the day's tasks. It's almost night anyway, go to bed and sleep the attitude off."

Izzy finishes the last bit of disinfectant, and mentally notes they need more.

"Izzy."

"I know, I will," Izzy says. "Thank you, Ed. Sorry again about the blood. It won't happen again tomorrow."

He means it. He already threatened the lab tech this night, and it wouldn't be the first one he's killed and hidden. Won't be the last either.

Before Ed can say anything else, he dips out the bedroom door, careful not to step on the smear of blood.

"Ask him to turn you then," Jack sighs dramatically. "I asked, and he turned me!"

"I'm aware, Jack," Izzy says, working to keep his tone even. He's never liked Jack all that much, but Ed does. And if Ed likes someone, then he'll deal with them being around for the most part.

"I wasn't even a familiar or anything, I was just the guy he was fucking!" Jack laughs hard, the sound on the video call going fuzzy. "And you've been with him for years now!"

"Technically since I was sixteen," Izzy confirms sadly. It's pathetic. Though at first, he didn't understand who the attractive man in the shitty looking house down the road was. But he seemed sad and looked drawn and gaunt often.

So Izzy, after a few days of thinking and watching and guessing, left a bag of captured rats and frogs on his porch. Rang the bell, then ran like hell.

From his hiding place in a nearby hedge, he had watched Ed immediately sink to his knees and drain a few of the creatures. Had it not been night and the street empty except for them, it would have been a disaster for Ed.

He kept that up for a few years after, whenever he snuck out at night to find Ed looking too hungry. Later, he would find out it was because there was a shortage of blood donations at the time, and Ed had lost his contact at the main hospital who usually kept him in blood.

When he was nineteen, the city started to fall apart even more. The second hospital closed, and the first regularly struggled to keep up with the need for blood. Their understaffing meant Ed couldn't keep a steady contact person either.

That was the year he asked if Ed needed or wanted a familiar, and offered himself up to give Ed enough strength to move elsewhere with him.

Ed took barely a sip from him, and instead showed him how it went when the victim was a living human.

Ed wept after, as they packed his things into his car. He didn't like killing. Not like that. Animals or other creatures he could stomach, they knew their nature as potential prey for another.

Humans did not. And even when they did, they did not understand it.

"Get your shit together, man," Jack shakes his head. "Maybe y'all need to move again, if the blood supply is that bad."

"It isn't terrible," Izzy insists. "His favourite types are harder to get, is all it is."

"Ask him," Jack says adamantly. "Worst he can do is say no."

"And what will we do for food then?" Ed scoffs. "Iz, I love you man, but sometimes you don't think!"

He badly wants to be dismissed, to go upstairs and call Jack and tell him to fuck off if he ever thinks to offer advice again in regards to Ed. He should have known better than to listen to Jack.

"I would find a new familiar for us first," Izzy says. "Give me a chance to look for one."

"You're missing the point," Ed mutters. "Izzy, what would I do without you?"

"I wouldn't have to leave you just because you'd have turned me," Izzy protests and he knows he's going too far. "I could stay, and help the new familiar. Wake right as the sun starts to go down, and make sure they have things ready for you."

Ed shakes his head and rolls his eyes, and Izzy can't help but see red.

"What is it then? At least give me a fucking reason why. Am I not good enough for it? You turned Jack, that fucking idi-"

He'd been gesturing with his hands while he talked, and Ed's caught one.

He holds Izzy's hand between both of his, a finger tracing up and down each of Izzy's fingers.

Izzy can hear his heart beating fast. He knows Ed can hear it too.

Ed flashes a grin, then bites down hard onto his hand. A fang goes right into the web by his thumb, and he yelps.

"Thought you wanted to be turned," Ed smirks. "Maybe not yet, eh, Iz?"

He watches Ed wander back upstairs, mouth covered in blood. Then he kicks the stove hard enough to make his foot ache.

He can't sleep, so he goes out. So what if Ed doesn't want a new familiar. Fuck him; Izzy will find him a new one, then find another vampire to turn him.

After that, he isn't sure.

The Revenge is a new bar, technically also a music venue. It's so small though that both bar patrons and concert attendees have no choice but to be one in the same.

"Hello!"

Izzy looks up to a chirping, cheerful face. "Hi, s-"

"Roach, let's get him a drinks menu!" the man calls down the bar. A blonde curl falls onto his forehead, and Izzy feels his heart speed up.

It slows a bit, as the exchange goes on. The man, Stede, is very pretty, kind. But he's overwhelming to Izzy right now, and he isn't sure he can handle it.

"Anything strong, very strong, just pour it in the biggest glass possible," Izzy cuts him off mid-drink explanation.

Stede's face falls. "Ah. A night like that?"

Izzy nods.

Roach is the one to slide down a glass of whiskey, then another, and another.

"Roach!" Stede laughs. "Let him finish one fir-oh, well, there went one. We are having a rough night, aren't we!"

Izzy slides the glass back Roach's way and nods. "Work issues. Nothing important."

"I don't know that," Stede says. "I opened this place up due to what some might think are unimportant issues!"

"He got divorced," Roach explains with a clap to Stede's back.

Izzy nods. "Rough nights all around then. Share with me?"

There are two glasses left. He can see the wheels in Stede's head turning. He knows he's asked him to do something unprofessional, maybe illegal in their city, he doesn't know.

Nor does he give a fuck. He wants to drink with this pretty man. He wants to ask him home, and to his bed. Woe be to Ed if he hears anything. Maybe he ought to go out at night too, now and again.

"Izzy, Izzzzzzy," Stede draws out his name and ends it in a kiss. "You taste like whiskey. I like it, but what do you taste like when you're not drunk?"

"You'll have to come home with me to find out," Izzy can hear himself slurring his words. "Unless you'd rather not. Most people don't want to. It's okay; I get it."

Stede kisses him again, hard, pressing him up against the brick wall behind the bar. "I want to find out."

They fumble back inside, to a grinning Roach and snickering house band. After about the third or fourth drink, they'd stopped hiding what they were working towards, and Roach had told Stede to just go sit by Izzy and drink.

From there, it had devolved to more sipping than chugging drinks, and finally the step outside for a breath of fresh air.

Stede was certainly that.

Which made it all the worse that he would be perfect for Ed.

They fall into Izzy's bed half-clothed, fumbling to get the rest off. Stede is unbelievably, adorably, eager.

Izzy can't recall the last time anyone was so eager to be close to him.

The doorknob rattles, and Izzy lets out a frustrated sigh. "In a moment!"

Stede's lips are on his neck and he doesn't want to move an inch, but Ed will not leave the fucking door alone.

He gives Stede a kiss before untangling himself from him and going to the bedroom door. "Ed?"

"You could let me know you were bringing someone home," Ed says tensely. "It'll be sunrise soon."

"I think Stede will wait while I help you get to bed," Izzy smiles. "Stede?"

Stede waves from the bed. "Hello!"

"Hi," Ed replies shortly. "That would be nice, since that's your job."

"This is your boss?!" Stede stumbles from the bed to stand behind Izzy. One hand wraps around his chest, the other slings lower to his waist, fingers playing with the zipper of his leather trousers. "You've been a real asshole to Izzy, you know that?"

Ed stares daggers at Stede. "Have I been? Enlighten me."

"He's live-in help, which most people don't have nowadays," Stede continues. "My family did. Well, they still do. I gave her the money and house and what not in the divorce. Anyway-"

He pauses to press a kiss to Izzy's neck, and Izzy has to fight back a grin.

"He's doing his best. That's all we can ask of each other, of anyone! But you're fussing over the dinner you wanted not being available and blah, blah, blah-"

"I don't think you understand the arrangement Izzy and I have," Ed interrupts him. "I could explain it to you, if you want to step into my room."

"Absolutely not," Izzy spits. He's not letting Ed eat his fucking one night stand. Especially when said one night stand could turn out to be more. "I'll help you to bed, Ed. Stede, you stay here and rest, yeah? If you need water, the kitchen is just downstairs."

"It's my kitchen and my water," Ed says.

"Oh fuck off," Izzy scoffs. "Enough, Ed. Come on, I said I'd get you ready for bed, and I meant it, because when fucking haven't I!"

He's aware he's shouting now, but there isn't enough reason to care.

Ed, however, seems to care a lot. "No. I'll take care of that myself, for now. But tomorrow night, we're having a talk."

"Fine," Izzy fumes. "Can I go get fucked now?"

"Do whatever you fucking want, mate," Ed grumbles and turns away.

"Sorry your sunlight allergy has made you such an asshole!" Stede shouts down after Ed. "We should get you out of here. You could come work for me."

"We can talk about that," Izzy says, dropping his head back onto Stede's shoulder for a moment. "Later, though. If you're still up, for-"

"Very much so," Stede smiles and kisses his cheek and Izzy's heart aches in his chest.

The door is shut and locked again and they fall back into bed, a softer and gentler tangle this time.

Gentle seems to be Stede's most common state of being, frankly. He refuses to rush any part of the experience, from a blowjob that nearly ends things early for Izzy to actually fucking.

"Have you and him ever..." Stede asks softly, mid-fuck, with Izzy in his lap.

Izzy shakes his head. "I'd like it. Wouldn't be very professional of me-"

"He's pretty enough I think anyone would break that veneer," Stede giggles. "I certainly don't blame you."

Izzy shifts his hips more and leans his head into Stede's shoulder.

"Sorry, that's probably not the thing to bring up now," Stede murmurs. "Izzy-"

"It's okay," Izzy cuts him off, lifting his head to kiss him. He runs his hands through the softest curls he's touched aside from Ed's, and moans into Stede's mouth.

There's no more talking, after that. Not about anything other than each other, at least.

In the morning, Stede stays and snuggles a bit. They have breakfast and exchange phone numbers, as well as offers to meet up again in a night or two.

"I know you probably feel you have to stay home tonight to get in his good graces," Stede says before he leaves. "I think you should be able to do as you want, but I'm just coming into all this now-"

"Could stay and do that again with me," Izzy interrupts. He can't help it. He doesn't really want him to go. He wants to be cuddled and kissed and fucked while Stede praises him up and down.

"If I didn't have a bar to get ready for tonight, I would," Stede smiles. "Maybe you can convince Ed to come with you! Then you'd get out, and he'd still have you on hand to pour wine down his throat for him, since I presume Mr. High and Mighty doesn't touch his own glass."

Izzy chuckles. "It's something like that. If nothing else, I'll call or text you, yeah?"

"That sounds perfect."

Izzy watches Stede walk away from the house, waving back when he does.

When he's far enough away, Izzy closes and locks the front door, then slips down it to sit on the hardwood floor.

He shouldn't be crying over someone he just met. He isn't a teenager anymore.

The tears come anyway.

#text post #vampire au #ofmd fic #stizzy #will add ship tags as they happen in the fic beyond seemingly unrequited love lol

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tokidokifish · 1 year

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Sugar please (please!) 💜

julian and garak have a bdsm scene as completely casual friends, really! (not really)

“Sex?” Julian says.

“Isn’t this about sex?” Garak asks, curiously. Of course his previous guests hadn’t all fucked him, but he had always imagined that had more to do with his species than any inclinations.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Julian says. “Some people seek another sort of relief.”

“Is that what you seek?”

“It can be, if that’s all you want to pursue,” Julian says, and then licks his lips. “But—generally, no, I came here looking for play with a sexual component.”

“And that hasn’t changed, considering whom you’ve settled on as a partner?” Garak asks, carefully, and is rather startled when Julian laughs.

“Oh, I’d say I’ve become much surer of it, actually,” he says, with a bashful sort of grin, and rolls his shoulders. “I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t something I’m interested in. But it’s up to you.”

Garak feels a rather wild urge to laugh, himself, for an entirely different reason.

#love to write garak being oblivious abt the fact julian 100% returns his affection #SURE it’s for a completely different reason and not ‘my (seemingly) unrequited crush just asked if i’d be dtf’#fish writes

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violentdevotion · 2 years

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you and i fronting up the martha defense squad ...shes literally such a fucking queen <333

everytime I think about how she walked the earth alone while her family were enslaved to save the doctor and humanity and no one remembers any of it and it took all of that AND everything that happened before during the season run for her to gain the confidence to leave him and Martha Jones, Doctor and Hero, is still reduced to the one that had an unrequited crush on him. Killing 10 and the show runners with my mind

#rina tag #ameeras.got.mail #i remember when i was watching it for the first time w my brother and he blamed martha for the master bc dhes the one that told him abt the #watch and i think abt how many people must thing the same thing and i think abt how all martha knew was that the doctor was the last and #that he was alone. even w her he felt alone. that he was at his happiest as a human when he didnt know that deep lonliness. the knowledge #that he was the last and of course she didnt think maybe this incredibly kind and gentlehearted man whos trying 2 save the last of humanity #is evil she saw his actions and she saw that theres another man like the doctor and she tried to save both of them and it backfired but the #action was one of a deep love and empathy that the companions are just full of when theyre written right #AND THEN i think abt outside the show and the racism and abuse dhe faced and i think abt how thag must tie in w martha the unrequited one #and blonde hair rose as the one that got away. the true love and mickey. rose's mistreated ex bf and how martha and him were paired #together with seemingly no explanation and i want 2 explode all over again in new ways. she was so mistrested and if freema ever comes back #i expect the world to grovel

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baeshijima · 1 year

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— how to woo the acting grand sage 101

wherein you pull out all the stops in an effort to persuade alhaitham on why he should date you, only… he woos you instead?!

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 7.8k wc, fluff, (attempts at) humour, angst if you squint, reader gets ill from overwork in one part, slight spoilers for 3.2 archon quest (brief mentions/recap of end events)

A/N : reader is struggling but they’re trying their best, alhaitham is a (smitten) menace and bad at feelings (kinda); the embodiment of u fall first, he falls harder (i just think we need more energetic/cute readers with haitham TヘT)

It wasn’t anything special. Really. Just you, your first day jitters, and the calm boy beside you in his Haravatat beret; the same one as yours.

Perhaps he’d noticed your flitting eyes, your shifting feet, or your wrung hands that swung gently in front of your robe-clad body because, when your eyes met (and, oh, what pretty eyes he had), he gave you a small nod. Of what? Comfort? Acknowledgement? Salutations?

You couldn’t tell, and you couldn’t ask. By the time you regained your senses he’d already walked off, the blank space beside you feeling strangely empty.

It wasn’t anything special.

But to you, that one, singular moment was all you needed; the comfort it gave was immeasurable, your first day jitters nonexistent.

You soon found out his name: Alhaitham. The boy in the matching Haravatat beret, the one who gave you a simple nod, and the one who sat in front of you in class.

As far as first impressions went, he was in your good books! Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for your classmates or your professor. He was aloof and indifferent to your peers, sometimes riling them up with his blunt remarks or blatantly ignoring their presence. As for the professor’s apparent dislike, it was most likely due to him rarely attending class after the first week or so (something about self-study being a better use of his time, if you recalled correctly).

But even so, through all the harsh whispers and scorn you saw surround him, no one could deny his academic prowess. How could they when the scores and praise spoke for itself?

In all honesty, you don’t remember when or how Alhaitham accepted your presence amongst others. It took you a while, sure, but he eventually began taking time out of his own to converse with you. Passing conversations soon turned to greeting each other a good morning and bidding the other a farewell, which then turned to late night study sessions in the House of Daena, which then became a regular hangout spot for you both, and so on and so forth.

Oddly enough, knowing you were the only one he would tolerate was somehow rewarding. While he paid no heed to the world around him and moved at his own tempo, you’d always find him waiting for you up ahead.

In that sense, you were comforted by the idea he would be willing to wait for you — and, undoubtedly, you would wait for him too.

Fast forward a few years and you’re now stuck in a long-term unrequited love for the scribe of the Akademiya.

Lovely.

You’ve had a lot to reflect on these past few years (most of which you’d rather not recall), but one thing seemingly remains stagnant; you love Alhaitham. That’s been something you have long-since accepted, and something you’re sure the entirety of Sumeru City are aware of by now.

While you definitely weren’t one to shy away from your (blatantly obvious) feelings, it doesn’t mean you flaunted your love at every opportunity presented. In fact, you were pretty happy with how things are now!

But, well, you only live once, as they say. And, by process of elimination, that just means you should act on your feelings so that you can either finally move on, or land yourself the most eligible bachelor in Teyvat!

(No one other than yourself thinks that, but hey! One is better than none!)

And so that was the origin story for your journey — Operation: “Get Alhaitham to Fall In Love With Me” was then set into motion!

Step 1: Be upfront with your feelings!

Confess to Alhaitham.

You can do that.

All you have to do is strut up to Alhaitham, ask him to hear you out for a moment, (metaphorically) spill your heart out to the man of your dreams, and anticipate a response! A positive one, preferably.

Easy enough, right?

Well, that’s what it should be. So why is it that you’re now pacing back and forth in front of his office door, mentally rehearsing your pre-written confession you spent too many sleepless nights redrafting until you were somewhat satisfied?

A severe oversight on your part, that’s what.

Hm, maybe I should wait another day. The timing doesn’t feel quite right, and the weather is a bit gloomy for a confession. Yeah, maybe I can just head back and pretend I wasn’t even here—

“I can hear you pacing back and forth even with my earpieces on.”

At the familiar, low intonation, you freeze. Body stiff, you slowly turn your head to the man leaning cross-armed against the door frame, an unimpressed look greeting you.

Crap. Was I really that loud...?

With one brow raised and a slight frown tugging his lips, he gives a once-over at your haggard appearance. It doesn’t take long for his expression to morph into one of concern as he takes a step away from the door frame and closer to you.

“Are you alright?” he asks, eyes honed in on yours; or more specifically, the area under your eyes. “You look like you haven’t slept for a decade.”

It sure feels much longer than that...

“I’m alright. I think. Wait. That’s not important right now,” you stammer, head shaking to regain your resolve. Ignoring the judgemental look cast upon you, you lift your head to meet his gaze, fists clenching in an effort to disperse your nerves. “I have something I want to tell you.”

“What is it?”

And with a deep breath and eyes squeezed shut, you blurt out, “I think you’re really good-looking! I really like you, too! Like, a lot! And you have super pretty eyes! And really fluffy hair! And you’re really smart, though you can be a bit of a pain... And... And you have a nice physique!”

Silence.

Under the weight of his blank stare and the impending doom known as ‘silence’, it takes a drawn out second for a horrified gasp to escape you. Belatedly, you realise your absolute abomination of a screw-up — an insatiable urge for the ground to swallow you whole consumes all remaining sense of rationale (which isn’t all that much, really).

Aaaaaaahhhh I went completely off script!!

Perhaps sensing your next move, Alhaitham snaps out of his stupor and begins reaching out for you. “Wait—”

“Ha-Have a good night!”

And then you’re sprinting off into who knows where, leaving Alhaitham stranded at his office doorway with an arm outstretched in your fading direction and a dumbfounded expression settled on his features.

Disgruntled, he rubs the bridge of his nose, the heat washing over him doing little to help reorganise his thoughts. “It’s eight in the morning, not eight in the evening...”

(Alhaitham’s never been more grateful for his soundproof earpieces. Not only does it tune out the outside world at his beck and call, but it also prevents you from seeing the tips of his ears stained a scarlet hue; this being one time out of the many.)

Mission Status: Success...?

Step 2: Give him flowers! A bouquet never hurt anyone!

“Tighnari!”

At the call of his name, Tighnari’s ears flick and perk up. In a swift movement, he turns his head to witness you dashing towards him with a grin, hands waving manically in the air.

“How many times have I told you not to run?” he tuts, head shaking in exasperation. But even with his nagging, you can still detect the smile seizing his lips from a mile away as he begins approaching to meet you halfway.

When you come to a stop in front of him, you merely beam. “Not enough times!”

“Clearly.”

“Anyway,” you begin, “as much as I’d love to stay and chat, have you prepared what I asked for?”

He scoffs at your request, “Of course. Just who do you take me for?”

“The bestest, most reliable friend ever, of course!”

You don’t think you’ve ever witnessed someone switch to a deadpan so quickly before.

“Buttering up to me only goes so far, y’know.”

Amidst your grumbles and his chuckles, he leads you back to his house in Gandharva Ville. You’ve always enjoyed the Forest Watcher’s presence, and you’re glad he’s happier now compared to his time in the Akademiya.

The trek back was filled with your usual back-and-forth, lively chatter making its way up and filling the air.

(“Oh, is that a new essential oil?”

“So you’ve noticed. I see your sense of smell is evolving.”

“Well, it’s an entirely different scent from the last one, and I think I’d have to be a little nose-blind to not notice.”)

When you make it back to his abode, you find a bouquet already neatly wrapped up and propped against the wall. A sweet, calm aroma wades through the air, becoming more potent the closer you get.

Simply put, it’s perfect.

With this, I can move on from my previous embarrassment!

“Thank you again, Tighnari. I owe you one. Oh,” you gasp upon remembering something, “and be sure to send my regards to Collei.”

“Don’t mention it,” he responds with a smile and a nod to your request before bidding you farewell. “Be careful on your way back! Be mindful of your step and any stray roots in the ground. Wouldn’t want you to trip and tumble down, after all.”

“I thought we were past that already...”

“What?!”

“Apologies,” the scholar in front of you replies, scratching the back of his neck in a sheepish manner. “Scribe Alhaitham left earlier in the day to explore some ancient runes in the desert...”

You’re pretty sure your heart just cracked.

“It can’t be...” you murmur. The bouquet in your hand feels heavy, just like your heart.

The scholar panics at your apparent dejection, wracking his brain in an attempt to rectify the predicament at hand. “When he comes back, I could tell him you were looking for him?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just... see him when I see him...”

You manage a small smile at his efforts, but the scholar only spirals into further panic when you trudge away with a gloomy aura hanging above.

I’m sorry, Tighnari. I’ve failed you and your botany skills...

Mission Status: Fail...

Step 3: Show him you can be dependable!

It’s a good day.

The sun’s out, the birds are chirping, and there’s not a single cloud up in the sky!

Yeah, it’s a good day if you ignore the stacks of paperwork piled up on your desk.

Dejectedly, you sigh and slump against the wood. You can already feel the forthcoming headache from just a single glance at the blurred words. Ideally, you wish everything could just be signed and done with at the mere thought. Realistically, you know that’s next to impossible.

...Maybe putting off your work and procrastinating wasn’t the smartest of decisions but, well, it’s too late now! Guess you’ll just have to suck it up and pull a couple all-nighters. Nothing out of the ordinary, unfortunately.

“Well,” you sigh to yourself, stretching your arms overhead, “good luck to me, I guess...”

(Distantly, you hear Alhaitham’s voice in the back of your mind reprimand you for leaving your work to later, but you swat the thoughts away without missing a beat and get started on the first pile.)

“[...me].”

“[Nam...].”

“[Name]!”

You gasp, shooting up from your slouched position. Though you come to regret the action when a sharp pang pierces through your conscience, eliciting a harsh wince to leave you. Immediately you fall forward and clutch your head, another pair of hands grasping your shoulders to steady you.

Huh...?

“Are you alright?” A cold hand makes contact along the expanse of your forehead and you subconsciously lean into the touch. “You’re burning up... When was the last time you rested?”

At the prompt, you strain your eyes to the left. Eyes squinting, you can barely make out a blurry figure, but the mesh of white, purple, red, and tan has you murmuring his name, “Cyno...?”

“Yes, it’s me.” His image wavers, and you can no longer distinguish his features. “You... last slept... hey... [...me]!”

His voice bleeds into white noise — drowned out by the world tipping on its axis before eventually it, too, is consumed by darkness.

Groaning through the overbearing warmth and fragmented light against your closed eyes, you breathe out a sigh and shuffle in place, trying to find a comfortable spot. Burrowing further into the duvet you feel yourself relaxing.

A musky scent surrounds you; one that’s warm and familiar, tinged with an aroma of worn pages and nature. The blends are few and far between, and yet they harmonize perfectly — its calming undertones help further relax you.

In the back of your mind, there’s a nagging feeling that there’s something you’re forgetting. But just what is it...

Your eyes snap open, heart lurching.

“Ah! The paperwork!”

In the midst of your frantic actions, a weight falls off your shoulders and tumbles onto your lap. Mouth agape and breathing erratic you look down, only to blink at the familiar item.

Alhaitham’s cape...?

“Lie down.”

Your shoulders jump when a voice comes from your left. Before you have time to protest, you feel yourself gently pushed back into bed, the covers lifted back up to your chin and Alhaitham’s cape draped on top once more. Though your movements are slightly restricted, you can still just about turn your head.

Alhaitham’s silhouette against the sunrise is hunched in your chair; elbows on knees, hands wrung together, and gaze focused on the ground. When your sight clears up, you notice his hair looks more dishevelled than usual.

You continue watching him as he heaves a light sigh and reaches over to his side. His hands wring a small cloth, water seeping out as his knuckles turn white from the pressure exerted. When he turns to you, the newly dampened cloth laid across your forehead, he doesn’t make eye contact. No, it’s more like he’s avoiding looking at you in general.

An awkward cough escapes you and he flinches ever so slightly at the sound. “How long have I been out for?”

“Two days.”

“I see,” you murmur. “Ah. Where’s Cyno? It’s kinda blurry, but the last I remember is him waking me up.”

“He’s busy.”

“Oh... Okay.”

A suffocating silence lapses over you after his blunt responses. It’s been a while since he’s spoken like this to you, so you’d be a bit of an idiot to not realise he’s mad. As for the reason why... Well, you’d rather not acknowledge the cause, even if you have a feeling he’ll bring it up sooner or later.

“[Name],” Alhaitham calls, voice low and even.

Averting you gaze, however hard you may wish for it, doesn’t help you avoid the inevitable confrontation set in stone. (That still doesn’t stop you from subtly lifting up the covers.)

His voice comes out weak and fuzzy against the ringing in your ears. “Why... didn’t you say anything? That you were ill? Were you going to just sit through it and not say a single word at all? Did you plan on pulling all-nighters again, even when you were on the verge of collapsing? What do you think would’ve happened if I didn’t overhear some scholars talking about how you fainted and had to be carried by the General Mahamatra?”

If this were you any other day, you’re sure you would’ve been over the moon at the sight of Alhaitham being the first thing you see upon waking up — taking care of and worrying over you on top of that. But alas, you’re sick and the string of questions he directs towards you does nothing but irritate you, the dull ache that previously lingered like white noise now blaringly clear.

“I don’t know. I guess I just—” you wince at the pain shooting through your head, “—I just thought there was no point so long as I get it done quickly then rest after. It was my fault I left it till recently.”

“Besides,” you add in a whisper, straining your eyes in an effort to stay awake, “you don’t like incompetent people, and I... didn’t want you to think that of me...”

“...”

It was quick.

One moment you felt warm and feverish, but now you feel warm and feverish and your forehead stings.

“Don’t be so stupid,” he retorts nonchalantly.

You’re dumbstruck, for a lack of better words. Through widened, bleary eyes you can just about register his unreadable expression, lips taught and brows furrowed slightly in your direction. A weak “What...?” slips through your lips, hoarse and broken.

For some reason, Alhaitham’s expression morphs. One of his hands tightens around yours (when did that get there...?) while the other reaches over to wring out a newly dampened cloth. He stays quiet, gaze avoiding yours as he focuses on wiping away the sweat clinging to your face while being mindful of the cloth already on your forehead.

“If you’re struggling, tell me. Don’t keep these things to yourself. And don’t...” he trails off with a grimace, and you barely catch sight of his lower lip tugged back by his teeth before it’s overshadowed by his hair. “Don’t ever think of yourself as incompetent again. You’re far from it.”

Oh...

Oh.

Out of all the things Alhaitham could have possibly said, you weren’t anticipating assurance and comfort.

“I... Uh... Hm. Okay,” you bumble like the fool you are, thoughts incoherent at the unexpectedly caring words. The only form of acknowledgement you received was him gently patting your hand; if you had the energy to squint, you could probably detect a teeny smile teetering the corners of his lips, but that could also be your half-delirious brain making stuff up like usual.

A cool sensation lands on your forehead, regulating the overwhelming heat permeating through your body. The sudden weight forces your eyes to close for a brief second and, upon opening them again, you find Alhaitham rummaging through his belt pouch. When he sits upright again, your attention is drawn to the object resting on his lap.

A... book?

“I’ll read to you,” he announces, probably noticing your blatant stare at the hardback cover now in his hand. He’s still avoiding your gaze, more interested in the book’s cover as his thumb traces over its surface.

There’s a brief pause.

Then, for the first time since you awoke, Alhaitham looks at you.

“It’s the new light novel from that author you like.”

“Huh? You mean...“ you trail off, eyes darting to take a closer look at the illustrated cover. A gasp soon escapes you after confirming it is, in fact, exactly what he said. “No way! You can’t even get this version unless you pre-ordered it months in advance! Wait, did you...?”

Another silence settles in your room. He averts his gaze to the side again, lips pursing as you send an accusatory stare his way, but shifts his sights back to you just as quickly.

“Enough talking, more resting.”

“But—”

“I’m opening the novel now.”

Despite your huff and low grumbles, you settle back in your bed and tug the duvet up to your chin. You listen to his low, comforting voice narrate the first couple pages, a familiar warmth vastly different to this feverish one washing over you. Your nose makes contact with the fabric of his cape and his scent surrounds you, coaxing your ailed body into a much-needed slumber.

Eyelids heavy, you use your last remaining strength to mumble your gratitude before drifting off, a content smile resting on your lips.

“Thank you, Haitham...”

Alhaitham’s breath hitches, eyes widening and the novel in his hand nearly slips from his grasp. His head snaps up to stare at you, only to find you already fast asleep with a few soft snores escaping you. He stays silent for a moment, taking a moment to process the sleep-induced words you’d uttered; namely the nickname you addressed him with.

Right. [Name] was merely influenced by the sickness and drowsiness. Don’t read too much into it.

Even after confirming that to himself, he continues to read the novel aloud to your unconscious self, replenishing the cloth at frequent intervals and staying by your side.

Even after confirming that to himself, Alhaitham finds himself unable to extinguish the heat that persistently clings to his skin — neither does the soft smile nor the flutter stirring in his stomach seem to have any intention of leaving; even more so at the sight of you burrowing into his cape.

Mission Status: Failed successfully!

Step 4: The fastest way to one’s heart is through their stomach! (Read: give them food.)

A lot has happened over the past couple weeks. Other than Azar and his minions being overthrown and Lesser Lord Kusanali being freed from solitary confinement by a few of your friends, Alhaitham is now the Acting Grand Sage!

Well, you only heard about this recent development from Cyno and Tighnari after returning from an expedition to decode some ancient runes in the desert. Not the welcome back you were expecting, but a welcome back nonetheless!

And upon confronting Alhaitham about his involvement in the rebellion you’d heard so much of (Cyno sure had a blast detailing his annoyance and praise over your last Genius Invokation TCG match), he merely heaved an exasperated sigh before adamantly explaining to you it wasn’t his intention to have his current position, but “Since everyone is so incompetent, I’m the only capable person who can take charge.”.

(His words, not yours.)

In all honesty, it almost feels like he’s still the scribe with how often you see him — as though nothing has changed and his duties are still the same. Though the same can’t be said with the other scholars and researchers, you suppose.

Recently, you’ve had more researchers come up and ask you to deliver papers to Alhaitham in their stead. Their reason? Well, it typically fell under one of two categories; “The Acting Grand Sage never spares us the time of day outside his work hours, and you’re our only hope...” or, “He wouldn’t turn you away or avoid you since he likes you so much.”

Maybe it’s because of the massive ego boost you’d gotten from their comments, but you now find yourself lugging a stack of papers that need to be looked over and signed, along with the freshly boxed up meal you bought earlier dangling from your other hand.

The journey back to his new office isn’t all that bad, just... a little awkward. You’re pretty sure the librarian hasn’t seen someone come and go from the (Acting) Grand Sage’s office-slash-elevator as frequently as you do, but hey! That just means you’re pretty special!

(For what it’s worth, you do kinda wish they had elevator music. Talking and humming to yourself can only do so much.)

Upon reaching the top floor and stepping off the platform, you’re greeted with the sight of Alhaitham leaning back and reading another one of his books. Ah, I feel my heart getting lighter at the sight.

“I’ve returned with food, Grand Sage!” you call out with a grin, waving your hand which carries the bag.

“Acting Grand Sage.”

“I’ve returned with food, Acting Grand Sage!”

A deadpan stare is all you receive at your quip, a sigh soon escaping him. “Why are you even addressing me with that title? Surely just saying my name is more efficient.”

“Because it’s fun, of course!” you merely laugh out in response.

A frown tugs his lips at that, eyes narrowing slightly before relaxing. He beckons you over with swift eye contact, and the chair opposite to where he’s sat is pushed back with his foot.

Wow. What a gentleman.

Plopping yourself down on the chair with an audible “Oof!”, you place the newly bought meal onto his desk. A mouth-watering scent wafts in the space between you, and you find yourself holding back a gulp at the delectable aroma. You quickly divvy up the food between you before glancing around the room.

As if reading your thoughts, Alhaitham nonchalantly says, “If you’re looking for my assistant, he’s not here.”

“Oh?” you ask between delightful mouthfuls. Swallowing down your food, you continue. “Where is he now? There should be plenty for his share too since I bought a lot this time around — or, well, I guess Lambad insisted I took more...”

There’s a small beat of silence after your words, though you barely register that fact when he speaks up again.

“No need. I’m feeling hungrier than usual, so I doubt there will be any leftovers to share.”

“Huh?” It takes you a couple seconds and a raised brow from Alhaitham for his words to register. When it does, however, you find yourself beyond ecstatic. “Oh! Of course, eat as much as you want! You need the energy for your Grand Sage duties, after all.”

“Acting Grand Sage duties.”

“Yeah, yeah, same thing.”

The rest of your lunch is spent in idle chatter and shared food. When you put more food on his side, he pushed his drink towards you or gave you more of your favourite bits.

(For someone who claimed to be really hungry, he sure was giving you a lot of food...)

Leaning back with a hefty sigh, you pat your stomach in content. Ah, Lambad never fails me, you think to yourself. Now that you’re done with your mini lunch date, it’s probably about time you head back and get your work for the day done. Your once content sigh now turns dreary, the energy you had barely seconds ago already dissipating.

Unbeknown to you, the corners of Alhaitham’s lips quirked up at your obvious dejection. Fist on cheek, he stares fondly at your ever-changing expressions; the familiarity of such a sight bringing him more comfort than he would ever let on. Eyes sweeping across the desk, his mood sours when spotting a stack of papers that wasn’t there before your arrival.

“Did those scholars bother you to run errands for them again?”

“Ah, this?” you drawl, head tilting slightly to view the contents. A low giggle escapes you when remembering the reason you originally brought it. “It’s because they can never find you.”

A huff escapes him at that comment. “Then they should have come during my work hours.”

“Apparently you’re never here when they come looking for you.”

“And? It’s not my problem they simply have bad timing.”

You all but shake your head at his antics, an amused smile blooming on your lips. Taking a quick glance at the time, you startle. Oh boy, where did the time go? Time really does fly when you’re having fun. Panic settles in you when the stack of papers needing to be sorted and signed appears in your mind. Scrambling up from your seat you spew out hasty apologies, too absorbed in your panic to notice the startled man you previously ate with.

“Aaaahh! I’m so sorry Haitham, but I really have to go! I have a million papers that need to be sorted and— gosh. How did the time fly by so quickly?! I could’ve sworn it was twelve just a minute ago—!”

“Wait!”

His voice is rushed — panicked, almost — and you find yourself unable to move. The ironclad grip on your wrist is tingling, even more so as it moves to envelop your hand completely.

His cool facade wavers slightly when you regard him with astonishment, but he gulps down his frayed nerves and steels his resolve. “Call me that again.”

“Huh? Like what?”

His hold on your hand tightens ever so slightly.

“Haitham.”

Mission Status: Success?

Step 5: Make him... jealous?

Apparently, your sad attempts have garnered Kaveh’s attention (and pity). Why else would he be at your door at 4 a.m. and suggesting you use him to make Alhaitham jealous, all the while grumbling how “It’s so painful to watch you do so much, only for that guy to do nothing.”, as well as the addition of “Maybe this time I can finally get the upper hand over him and that infuriating arrogance of his!”

“Is someone like him really going to get jealous over something so...” you trail off in thought after he explains the plan he had in mind, eyes screwing shut as you try to think of the word to describe, well, whatever it is Kaveh proposed, “so trivial? It just seems like something so beyond him to get jealous.”

“Hah!” he barks out, settling back into your sofa and patting down the blanket on his lap. “You’re kidding, right?” When you don’t respond, he levels his sight with yours, perplexed. “Wait, you really don’t know?”

“Would I be asking if I knew?” At your retort, his face freezes. He seems to have come to a realisation, if the way he instantly sits upright has anything to say about it.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Kaveh intervenes, hands resting on his temples. “Let me get this right. You’ve been pursuing him for how many years now—”

“Five years,” comes your instant reply.

“—I wasn’t expecting you to answer, but exactly. Five years. And you think something like this would be ‘trivial’ to him? That guy??” You nod; he groans. “Ugh. You’re hopeless. The both of you.”

An offended gasp escapes you. “Well, excuuuse you! I’ll have you know I’m trying my best over here.”

“Unfortunately, I’m aware of that.”

He deflates against the cushions with a sigh, lifting the fallen blanket up his torso. A slew of unintelligible grumbles leaves his lips, and you just barely make out “I still don’t understand what you see in someone so unromantic...” before shaking your head at his antics.

When you take a glimpse at the time, however, a thought sticks out in your head.

“Also, why are you here at 4 a.m.?”

“Am I not allowed to visit you at 4 a.m.?”

You blink. He blinks back.

“...Did Alhaitham take your keys again?”

Silence.

“No...” he trails off, like a liar.

That night — or morning, rather — you let the temporarily homeless Kaveh crash at your house, discussing your plans on making Alhaitham jealous.

As a result of your late-night plotting, you’d somehow ended up spending around a week solely in Kaveh’s presence; as per the plan, that is. According to him, if you took some time away from Alhaitham, then it would “make him question that annoying mindset of his and force him to realise what a bumbling fool he’s being!”.

(Kaveh’s words. Not yours.)

Well, you suppose taking a break from his presence wouldn’t do that much harm. The blond makes for fun company, and you would never turn down an invitation from him! In short, this plan of his just gave you an excuse to hang with him even more than you already do!

You strayed from the Akademiya as much as you both could without neglecting your work, but the majority of your time was spent with Kaveh in the House of Daena, your house, or Puspa Café. And when Alhaitham was in the nearby area, or directly approaching you both, Kaveh would be quick to pull you away to a different spot. And when he managed to catch you when you were alone outside your working duties, you would conjure an excuse before hurriedly taking your leave. (You mentally apolgised to him each time as you scurried away, not daring to look back in case your resolve crumbled.)

Luckily, today, you haven’t encountered him.

With a much needed stretch after working through the morning, you turn to Kaveh and see him doing the same as a yawn slips past his lips. You’re feeling a bit peckish now, and you’re sure he is too. Plus, the weather was pretty good so going outside wouldn’t be too bad!

“Hey, where do you wanna go for lunch today? Lambad’s—”

Though, you barely get to utter the restaurant’s name when he pulls you into an embrace, arms wrapped around you as you both sway slightly in tandem. Instantly, you realise what’s happening.

Wait, we’re starting that part of the plan now?!

Sure enough, footsteps resound from behind you, a deep and familiar voice following soon after. “So this is where you’ve been. Strangely enough, you seem busier and harder to find these days.”

Kaveh parts from you a second later, but takes your hand in his. Instantly, you see Alhaitham’s eyes dart to your interlocked fingers before returning back to you. Kaveh seems to take note as well, and deftly swings your hands in front.

“Yeah, and what of it?“ You gulp at his smug tone, mentally preparing yourself for the incoming argument they usually fall into. “But you seem to have caught us at a bad time again, because we were just on our way to a date!”

...That wasn’t part of the script?!

His hand gently squeezes around yours, and you will yourself out of your surprise. Right. This is part of the act. Even if it doesn’t sit well with you, it’s not like you have many options left!

And so with that being said, you steel your nerves and turn to face Alhaitham. Not even a second later do you find yourself faltering when you take note of his expression — blank and slightly shadowed by his hair.

“...Is that so?”

“Of course. We were just on our way to Lambad’s Tavern,” Kaveh responds before turning to you with a smile. “Weren’t we, [Name]?”

And you smile back (albeit through gritted teeth). “Haha, yes, that’s right! We were just about to have lunch.”

A pregnant pause lingers in the air after your agreement.

(Is it just you, or did the temperature suddenly drop?)

“I see,” Alhaitham finally breathes out. He spares another glance at your hands before meeting Kaveh’s eyes. “Well, I hate to be the one to ruin your plans, but I need [Name]’s help for some urgent matters.”

A scoff. “What could be so urgent for someone who makes it a point to get all his work done in advance?”

“I can assure you it’s far more urgent than your... date.”

There’s a distant sheen in his eyes as he forces out the last word. The air around you turns frigid as the two men stare each other down and, if this were depicted in a show of some sort, you’re sure lightning would crackle in the space between the two.

An agitated sigh breaks the silence. The grip on your hand loosens.

“Alright, fine. You can have [Name] for your ‘urgent matter’.” Kaveh gently nudges you forward until you find yourself standing before Alhaitham. “If you do anything strange to [Name], I’ll come and personally sort you out myself!”

Besides the brief scoff and mutter of “I’d like to see you try”, Alhaitham spares you a prolonged glance before wrapping his hand around your wrist and turning away, forcing you to follow hot on his heels. When you look back at Kaveh, all you see is a double thumbs up with an agitated expression (no doubt he heard Alhaitham’s snide remark) that screams “I told you so”.

Well, that’s no help at all.

The walk to the elevator is silent. The ride up to his office even more so. And awkward. Very awkward. You’re probably the only one feeling this awkwardness though. After all, you were the one ignoring him this past week, not the other way around, so he has no reason to feel awkward around you. In fact, Alhaitham should be more annoyed than awkward...

Ah. I’m screwed.

The lift comes to a halt when the realisation sets in, the presence of his hand on your skin even more prominent than before. He still hasn’t said a word to you. And, if you’re being completely honest here, you’re not sure whether to be grateful for that or not.

There’s an unnerving silence in the (Acting) Grand Sage’s office. Upon closer inspection, it seems his assistant isn’t here today either; only you and Alhaitham stand in the centre (of his office, and the world). As your gaze flits across the expanse of the room, you note how messy the interior appears — well, messier than usual, that is.

“I didn’t like you when we first met,” he begins; unprovoked. He doesn’t turn around, and so you’re left to gape at his back. “You were annoying and kept hovering around me, even when I made it abundantly clear I didn’t want to be bothered. You were a nuisance; a thorn in my side and I would always get irritated at the mere mention of your name.

I never understood your naivety. Were you pretending, or were you really that unaware? Why would you go out of your way to make a good impression on others? Did you have to be liked by everyone so desperately?” A harsh scoff leaves his lips, but you couldn’t tell whether that was directed to you or to himself. “I couldn’t understand you and thought of you as a fool.”

Wait… isn’t he just straight-up insulting you now?

“I couldn’t understand you back then but now, I know you like the back of my hand.” His voice remains unchanged. Perhaps if it weren’t only you two in the room, the slight waver of his voice would have gone unheard. Then he breathes out a sigh and tilts his head back, still with no intention of facing you. “Do you remember? That winter back in our first year. The one where we were partnered for a presentation.”

(Oh. He’s actually talking to you now.)

“Uh, yeah,” you stammer, “that’s the one we were given two months to prepare for, right?”

He hums in confirmation, “Do you also know, [Name]? At the time, I considered those two months we spent together to be the worst of my life.”

...What.

Too stunned to even think up a retort, he seems to take your silence as his cue to continue.

“Your views on the world; your naivety; your foolishness... I soon realised they were all qualities I had merely made up, simply because I couldn’t grasp your intentions until I actually talked to you. Hah,” he laughs, bitter and remorseful, “it turned out I was the naive one, and that made me question my values.

At the end of our project, I came to realise it wasn’t anything to do with your disposition, but more so my feelings for you. I knew what it was but, at the same time, I denied them. I avoided you more than anything in hopes of them dying out. But... they didn’t. They only grew stronger, as if to mock me for my vain efforts.”

And then he turns — slowly, hesitantly — knitted brows and lower lip caught between his teeth. It’s bashful and shy and tentative; and yet you’re sure his eyes have never held such a confident and resolute glint before now. And now, with both of your hands engulfed in his, he continues on.

“Ever since accepting my feelings, I grew more aware of your presence. No matter where I looked, no matter where my thoughts were, you were always there. I soon came to value your opinion and thoughts of me when I hadn’t cared about such things before. With time, they grew stronger. More desperate. And when realising that just being by you was no longer enough, I... became greedy.”

(Alhaitham has a vague sense to stop here, but he can’t. He won’t let this chance to reveal the true nature of his feelings slip by.)

There’s a small beat of silence as he lowers his head — foreheads touching and noses brushing.

"I want to kiss you, hold you, experience all the mundane and extraordinary things life has to offer with you. I want to be there for you and grow old with you, and...” His hold on you tightens, angling his head to get a better view of you, and for you to see his glossy eyes and near-trembling smile. “And I want to keep your smile in my eyes for the rest of my life. If this isn't love, then I'll probably never know love for the rest of my life."

Your mind’s a mess; jumbled and incoherent. Unfocused, your eyes dart from every dip of his face to the furniture in the background, unable to keep your mind and concentration at bay from his sudden confession. His eyes bore into you, seemingly inching closer and closer; so close they’re all you can see, speckles of umber and teal that would usually go unnoticed becoming very prominent.

Somehow, he leans in even closer. Your mind blanks, throat parched and senses going into overdrive.

“Wait, Alhaitham—”

“No,” he interrupts, his unwavering gaze never once straying from you. “I refuse to wait any longer than I already have. I should have said this long ago when I realised our feelings were mutual, as opposed to waiting it out for so long.”

And then you hear it.

“I love you.”

“What...”

“If you need me to say it a thousand times over just so you understand, then so be it.” His eyes soften considerably, a smoldering passion now unconcealed and consuming you whole. “I love you, [Name]. I’ve loved you for a long time, and I’ll continue loving you for even longer.”

You want to respond. No, you have to respond. After years of showing your affections you finally received a clear response. You should be jumping in his arms and professing your love again! So why...

Why can’t you say anything...?

The pad of his thumbs gently swipe under your eyes, catching beads of tears you hadn’t realised were accumulating. The residue follows the path of his thumb, dampening your cheekbones as his hands slide to cup your cheeks.

“Are you backing out now?” he breathes out, a silent laugh puffing from his lips. “After all this time you’ve spent pursuing me, and you go silent when I confess my undying love for you?”

“Ah, no, I just... can’t believe it, I guess,” you respond sheepishly after regaining yourself. In a haze of excitement, you turn slightly to fist-bump yourself, his cupped hands following your slight movement. “Your efforts have finally paid off, [Name]!”

Just then, a small “Bfft” rings out. You blink and cautiously turn your focus to the man wearing a stoic expression in front of you.

“Did you… just laugh?”

“I didn’t,” comes his instantaneous response.

(A bright grin alights your face at that, and Alhaitham finds it hard to not kiss you right then and there.)

“You liar. You so did!”

“You’re just hearing things.”

“Yeah, because I just totally heard you turn your head in a failed attempt to hide that laugh—!”

Your words are muffled, swallowed and silenced by his lips on yours. An overflowing warmth seeps through the point of contact. It traverses through your body, now hyper-aware of every strand of his hair tickling your cheeks, to the pads of his fingers searing your skin, to even the faintest brush of his clothes against you.

His touch is warm and all-consuming — and you find yourself leaning in for more.

(Strange. You thought his lips would be a little rough, but they were actually quite soft.)

Slowly, your lips detach. He lingers and hovers over you, everything from half-lidded eyes to his lips brushing against yours consuming you whole. When you try to move back to cool down, he follows; an aimless pursuit for your touch.

“I think you talk too much,” he finds himself murmuring, mind still reeling from what just transpired. Your dazed blinks-turned-smile sets his heart alight at such an adorable sight only he is privy to, as he relishes in the warmth diffused from your cheeks to his palms.

“Hehe, but you like it though— let gwo obf my cheeks.”

In the midst of your complaints, Alhaitham grins, eyes crinkling at the corners as he stares at your puckered lips from his hands smushing your cheeks. How cute... he muses to himself, before planting a chaste, lingering kiss on your forehead.

“By the way,” he whispers against your skin, “your little act with Kaveh hasn’t been forgotten.”

“Uggh. You’re sho stingyy...”

“Hm, perhaps. But you like it.”

Alhaitham had never seen you with such a dumbfounded expression until now.

Mission Status: Who cares? You just won in life! (But also: success!)

“Ugh. They’re at it again.”

Aether and Paimon share a glance upon hearing Kaveh’s grumbles. They follow his line of sight to see what put the architect in such a state, only...

“Is that... Alhaitham?!”

Paimon’s cry earns her more than a few glares from researchers, scholars, and students alike, but that’s not the main issue. The main issue here is in a far corner tucked away in the House of Daena sits you and Alhaitham, the man in question pinching and tugging your cheeks as you try (and ultimately fail) to swat his hands away.

The travel duo had met you a handful of times. Within those few meetings, Aether had thought of you as someone sincere and resolute, whereas Paimon had deemed you as the “nice researcher with the tastiest food recommendations!”. And within those few meetings, never would they have guessed your relationship with Alhaitham.

“Oh?” Kaveh cocks a brow at their apparent surprise. “You didn’t know they’re dating? That guy is so obvious about it with how clingy he is.”

Aether hurriedly covers Paimon’s mouth before she could spew another set of cries that would surely put them in the bad books of the nearby occupants.

A beat of silence passes. A distinct murmur from your direction can be heard amidst the faint scribbling of pen on paper and the rustling of pages being turned. And then comes a sigh from beside them.

“Y’know, that guy’s been in love with [Name] for as long as I can remember, and probably even before then,” Kaveh starts, arms crossed over his chest as he stares at you quietly giggling away at something Alhaitham whispered. “He was so obvious about it too with his blatant favouritism. And even then he never outright acted on his feelings — that were very much reciprocated, mind you — until a few months ago! If it weren’t for me, this whole thing could’ve taken another few years!”

Aether and Paimon share another glance before focusing back on Kaveh and his seemingly never-ending rant.

“Honestly,” he huffs, head shaking in line with his exasperation and still in his own world, “I still have no clue what he’s thinking. For all I know, he probably just wanted to see how far [Name] would go; that smug bastard. Wouldn’t surprise me.”

While Aether awkwardly chuckles at the tagged insult, Paimon continues to watch your shared interaction in wonder — namely the smile which adorns Alhaitham’s lips.

“Wow. Paimon can’t imagine a guy like him being in love...”

Kaveh scoffs. “There’s no need to imagine it when he’s so blatantly love-struck right in front of us. However...” he trails off when you nudge Alhaitham, the new angle allowing the trio to witness him chuckling fondly at your action before placing a kiss on your cheek. A light sigh slips past Kaveh’s lips, “I’m glad they’re finally together.”

“Why so?” Aether asks, head tilting at the man’s change in tone.

“It was painful to watch.”

“Ah...”

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