I LOVE YOU

TENDERLY, TRAGICALLY.

[2018-01-20]

“ HOTBOX, QUIET NIGHTS ... ”

“ ... SWIMMING POOLS AT NIGHT ... ”

୨୧ — CARRD [ MUST READ FOR DNI + BYF ]

PREVIOUSLY @/C02Z. OLD GENSHIN ACC: @bookuya

BOO + ANY PRNS. SFW BLOG. INACTIVE. INBOX OPEN IF YOU WANT TO CHAT & BRAINROT!

CURRENTLY PLAYING : ILOVEYOU BY BETWEEN FRIENDS <3

✒️ A MASTERLIST AWAITS UNDER THE CUT ...

MATCHUPS ! [ CLOSED ]

CURRENTLY HAVING A COLLAB EVENT WITH @/STELLUMI !

LAST UPDATED : 01/10/24

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ALL WORKS CONTAIN A GENDER NEUTRAL READER. I ONLY WRITE FOR THE CHARACTERS IN MY MASTERLIST (WITH A FEW EXCEPTIONS), PLEASE DO NOT REQUEST FOR OTHERS. REQUESTING RULES.

DO NOT PLAGIARIZE, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORKS ANYWHERE.

୨୧ JUJUTSU KAISEN !

୨୧ TOKYO REVENGERS !

— ୨୧ HONKAI STAR RAIL ! (in progress)

dan heng

teasing you

how he shows love

୨୧ BLUE LOCK !

୨୧ BUNGO STRAY DOGS !

୨୧ HAIKYUU !

[sungie]

LYNEY X READER : FIREWORKS BY SEA

a shallow wave ripples over your shoes. you’re wearing wet socks and denim rolled up to your knees in mid july. it smells like salt, and maybe smoke if you think too hard, and in the back of your ear, lyney’s teasing that his tricks are better by far, he’d give you your own fireworks over the sea any day. if you’d only just say the words. 

he’s so predictable. he's always splashing water onto you, then darting just out of reach. but you know exactly where he is. 

“i told you i’m not gonna,” you say. those aren’t quite the words he wants—but he’s laughing anyway as you grab him by the wrist and throw him into the wave carving into the shore. your eyes never leave the horizon.

fireworks burst over the water. quiet inhale. a delayed boom reverberates through your chest. 

you don’t need visual confirmation to know lyney’s eyes dance with amusement. and there’s always something else—at least, he’s always been like that with you—something else within his eyes that pleads with you to look, glance over, dive head over heels into some murky space neither of you knows where. 

would you? you don’t like to think about it. you never do. 

you can sense lyney smiling to himself in mirth as he shakes his head, wringing out the hem of his shirt. it’ll dry stiff and salty in a half-hour. “you’re impossible. why won’t you look at me?” 

“i don’t know what you mean.” you say it with a bright smile. and there’s a lingering taste of melon syrup when you run your tongue along your teeth. lies like melon syrup. sticky melon shaved ice. a little crunchy. 

and well, you know exactly what he means. your teeth feel a little cold if you think about it. 

a singular firework shoots up—at this point it looks more like a shooting star. like a flying fish. you’d wish on it if you had something you wanted. in the back of your mind you know lyney will, maybe for something like, love me love me love me. 

you hold your breath as you wait for the crash. it doesn’t explode. rather showers into gold and falls into the sea. fish flopping back into water. and maybe that’s a little fitting, for the two of you. a love that can be soft. a love, maybe not all there. 

“okay. but you know i’d do it,” lyney says. and the firework fades out behind a cloud of smoke. you think the boat should stop sending out low fireworks. higher ones are better. and it hurts to feel lyney’s eyes trained on yours. he’s not looking where it matters. “if you asked me to,” he says, his voice growing firm, “i’d be yours forever.” 

yet when he says it again, his eyes feel soft. “so ask me.” 

you're not looking. but you know it. you hate when he gets like this. it makes your heart wince. 

“i’ll do it,” is what you decide on. and you think it’s a little cruel, the way lyney brightens at your words. “but you know you can’t.”

lyney laughs. maybe he’s a little stung by the implication—you remember him poking at washed up sea jellies with sticks. or maybe it’s all in your head. with him, you can never tell.

“maybe not,” he says. and he’s probably shrugging, that little half-shoulder one he does. with that loose grin tugging at his lips. the one that makes his eyes glow warm. “but you never know.”

a burst of color saves you from response. the ship shoots up firework after firework. the dark sea glows red. illuminates the black waters. 

like, sure. you’d let lyney love you. 

because he likes to say things like that. after all, you love that. things like, you’re not like anyone i’ve ever met. i’ll choose you forever. i’ll be sad when you leave fontaine. when are you leaving? well, it doesn’t matter. i’ll visit you wherever home is. 

but that’s where it gets tricky. because lyney also likes to fall out of love whenever he feels like it. and whenever he feels like it is pretty damn often. 

there’s a flash of color. you sense it before it happens. he’s dragging you by the hand, pulling you forward into the shallow wave starting to recede into the sea.

boom, boom, boom—and you can feel it in the sand sinking beneath your feet. in your chest when you point to an anemo shaped firework and lyney is gazing at you with a bemused look on his face, nodding along like you’ve just done something adorable. in your heart when he wraps his arms around your shoulders and half-lifts you as another wave slowly swallows the shore.

“put me down,” you laugh, half screeching as you swat at his shoulder. 

lyney obliges for a quick second, allowing your untied shoe-laces to dip into the water pooling across the sand. the dampness of your socks isn’t so bad. more refreshing. “if you say so.”

“no don’t you dare—“

he’s quick to laugh, a teasing smile twisting at his eyes. “then hold on to me like you mean it.” lyney smiles most with his eyes, is what you think. and you’re looking at him now, looking at him with wide eyes and lips twisted into a grin. 

you always thought it’d be nice to make out beneath the fireworks. something casual. a quick kiss and dip. he’d be a nice person to make out with. you wouldn’t mind. 

instead, you’re feeling a little exposed beneath the pyrotechnics—a little like you’re offering lyney a feel of your heart as you hang your arms loosely over his shoulders.

“that’s not like you mean it,” lyney says, and his voice is quietly amused. “you know, for being so straightforward all the time, you’re not so honest.”

“do you want me to be?” you say, and you’re gazing at him with an amused look on your face. “you’ll freak out. you’re not that honest either.”  

lyney looks the most serious he’s ever been. “you know why. you’ll get bored.” 

“not if it’s you.” it’s more of an inside joke between the two of you. “you never bore me.” 

you’re interrupted by the shower of fireworks. it’s a burst of gold that illuminates the whole sky. gold. shockwave. one after the other. for the first time, it’s lyney’s eyes that look at the horizon. it quirks your lips into a sort of smile, watching the pyrotechnics burst like dancing flame in his eyes.

and it’s like. you never really know the color of lyney’s eyes. someday they look gray, someday blue, someday a little violet. if that’s even possible. you always stumble over it. if you can’t remember something so simple about a guy, you must not really like him. it makes your heart twinge with bemusement. because tonight his eyes are gold.

“you’re missing it,” lyney says, and he reaches to gently tilt your chin up toward the sky. he’s holding you with one arm still, and your laces dip into the salt, and your socks are damp, and you can feel the hem of your sleeves dripping with water onto lyney’s shirt. 

“didn’t you want me to look at you?” you say. but you oblige for once, watching the fireworks burst in the sky. the waves recede back into the sea. whisper of awe as the finale leaves the horizon lit up with smoke.

lyney puts you down. your shoes sink into the shore. 

“not really,” he says. “i just said it.”  

you roll your eyes. your hands brush at the sand on your front, an exasperated smile tugging at your lips. there’s always a hollow sort of feeling when he does that. like someone’s blown all the air out of you. but it’s expected. he’s just like that.

“the fireworks were nice,” you say. “i’m glad we watched.” 

you feel like a conch shell. washed up. one that lyney picks up and blows a melancholic tune out of whenever he wants.

you think he feels a little bad.

"don't say it like that," lyney says. and he reaches for your hand, urging you closer. satisfied, he lets you go. out of sight from the groups of people behind you, he unfurls his palm.

a little red flame shoots up between you to burst into embers of flame. it glitters and shower over his skin, and when you reach out in fear, you realize there's a warmth when the fire sprinkles over him, not a burning sear.

you glance up, stunned. there's an amused flicker in lyney's eyes. like, oh, you do care.

"i told you," lyney says. and his eyes are mischievous. a little teasing. a little soft. he keeps his gaze trained on the secret fireworks bursting from his palm, like little sparklers couples do by the beach. "if you asked me to, i'll do anything."

[monocaelia]

redolence.

he can't help but be drawn to you again and again; you're intoxicating and he fears he has grown addicted. feat. wriothesley & gn!reader w.c : 1.4 k warnings : physically intimate scenario but nothing happens , a result of me being touch starved lol note : i'm back for a little (: this idea has been haunting me and i wanted a simple warm up.

the warmth of your quaint apartment is welcoming as wriothesley haggardly enters through your doorway, a sharp contrast from the cool night breeze that clings to the streets of the court of fontaine. the smell of dinner entices the duke further into your home, but his exhausted body yearns for something other than the food waiting for him on the dining room table.

his feet shuffle across the hardwood floors, not even bothering to switch any lanterns on as your home has been memorized from the countless number of times he has visited you.

you, his beloved.

just as your name echoes in his head, your head pops out from the hallway leading into your bedroom and your bright smile lights up the darkness in your abode, putting the moon and her gracious light to shame.

the humble apartment comes to life as the lanterns illuminate the living space and the patter of your feet against the floor is all wriothesley can hear before-

"wrio!" you call his name and the duke can already feel his muscles relax and the weight from keeping busy at meropide lift from his shoulders. as if by instinct, wriothesley opens his arms wide and he doesn't need a warning from you as he feels your body leap into his arms.

and despite his world now embracing him in his arms, the duke of the fortress of meropide feels the most at ease.

your feet land on the wooden floor of your home as your lover sets you back down, grounding you back to reality and yet your heart still feels like it's feather light as if you weighed nothing more than a speck of dust as you meet ashen eyes.

he looks exhausted from a long day's work; the silver eyes that you love so much drooping and the weary lines below his eyes a bit more prominent this evening. his usually tousled hair is messier than it usually is and your fingers reach up to fix it as much as you could.

the sea of midnight tufts streaked with silver, reminiscent of the galaxies you would see littering the clear night sky after the tears of the hydro dragon cleanse the land of fontaine, is soft to the touch and you wish you could play with it forever. your fingers linger down to his jaw, caressing the scars that have made their home along his face.

and you watch as the man who has seen what the world has to offer in the worst way possible melt into your touch as if it were the only safe haven he knows.

"i take it work was rough on you?" you ask your lover, a smile growing on your face as wriothesley sighs heavily.

"don't get me started," he begins, pressing a kiss into your palm. "i'd rather not talk about it and ruin my mood for tonight."

your lover stays true to his word as his hand trails down your arm; his larger hand encases your own and keeps yours glued to his face as your warmth encompass him. however, as wriothesley relishes in your simple touch, something about you intrigues him. it stimulates his senses, reeling the duke in closer to your skin. he can feel your body heat increasing as he buries his face into your palm before sliding to your wrist as the scent grows stronger.

it's sweet, a smoky, herbal aroma with a hint of fruit... was it sunsettias? or bulle fruit?

regardless of what it was, it's enticing to the duke and he found himself inching his face further and further into the warmth of your body. you find it ticklish the way wriothesley's nose skims up your arm from your wrist, inhaling every single inch of your skin to get more of the aroma into his system.

his touch is dizzying to you; the kiss to your palm already sending your chest ablaze and it only gets worse the more he kisses up your arm. each press of his lips against your skin sends waves of heat over your body but you find it hard to pull away from the intimate atmosphere.

"new perfume?" your boyfriend grumbles against your shoulder as he takes in more of the scent. what was it; the fruity smell is on the tip of his tongue and yet fatigue clouds his brain.

"n-no," you stammer out in a voice that wavers in strength. your free hand, the one not held in your lover's as his lips caress your skin again and again, grips onto the fabric of his shirt. his heat melds into yours as your bodies get closer in the small room of your apartment. "it's a new body oil i'm trying out from sumeru... does it smell weird?"

truly, wriothesley's actions are quite the opposite of that. if anything, this herbal scent clinging onto your body lures the supposed cold duke that oversees the fortress of meropide into your frame and turns him into complete putty underneath the mere graze of your finger.

if only the prisoners of meropide could see the duke now.

wriothesley feels your body shiver as he nears your neck with his touch. you're flustered, skin warming up and breath hitching, and as a result he pulls away from your body... only to be greeted by such a delightful sight; eyes wide open like a deer caught in the spotlight and your kissable lips parted in such a way that almost reels him in completely.

oh, what you do to him.

"far from weird, sweetheart," wriothesley murmurs softly, his voice a mere whisper, before he delves down again as temptation rules over his mind and his body yearns for your touch. his lips press into your own, the taste of his afternoon tea enveloping your senses; it's floral yet citrus hints make your head spin as his kisses caress your lips again and again.

wriothesley's arms have moved to hold your waist and pull you closer to him; the need to feel every inch of you on his own body is overwhelming the duke and he knows he won't be able to hold himself back for too long.

you're too intoxicating and the aroma that wafts from your body is only pulling him further and further in.

your lover pulls away from the kiss, but you've only a moment of respite before his lips press into your skin again. they trail from your jaw down to the crook of your neck. your body shivers as his warm breath fans across the expanse of your neck and yet you're far from cold.

it's ticklish the way wriothesley buries himself into your neck and you can't even pull away to compose yourself as his arms trap you within his arms; a prisoner in the fortress of his embrace.

"wrio, maybe we should call it a night?" your voice is barely a breath as you try to snap your lover out of his trance, not that you would mind where this would be headed to but... the moon was high in the sky and you know wriothesley would be even more exhausted the next morning should the both of you continue.

his nuzzles against your skin put to a halt due to your words and like an obedient lover, wriothesley pulls away with a tired smile. he leans down again but only to press light kisses against the apples of your cheek and forehead.

"sorry, darling," wriothesley whispers in the close space between you. his thumb has come up to gently rub across your cheek and his heart skips a beat seeing how frazzled you had become because of him. he kisses you again, but this time it's brief and light. "you're just too much for me sometimes."

"all i did was welcome you home." your deadpan manner makes your lover chuckle softly.

and yet as the two of you bicker late into the night, all the duke could think about was the solace that you bring when you're near him. the warmth in your smile, the comfort in your embrace, and the relief that you bring to him with just your scent alone is enough to bring his mind at ease after the taxing work hours at the fortress of meropide.

should the days toughen the duke even more than he already is, he knows you'll be there to soften and protect his heart with a simple touch.

his solace.

[2018-01-20]

OH MY GOD YOU GOT A CAT??? SHE'S THE CUTEST THING EVER AUSDBHAVDHAWE

also I MISSED YOU SO MUCH WHAT THE HELL. YOU POPPED IN AND WENT "BOO" LIKE 😨😨😨😨😨 BUT HOW HAVE YOU BEEN???

- tired

YESSSS HEHEHE she is super cute like u 🫵and her name is mika named after my fav anime character LOL

I MISSED U MOREEE AND UR RANDOM POSTS 😫😫 i really did pop back in like boo HAHA ive been great!! im on a road trip rn and thinking if i wanna write smth or not and if so for who 🤔 HOW HAVE U BEENN MY FAV KAEYA KISSER

[2018-01-20]

BOOOOO OMGKSKEKX I MISSED YOU SO MUCH I THOUGHT YOU DISAPPEARED ☹️☹️💗💗💗 HOW ARE YOU MY BELOVED

STOP I MISSED U MORE THE WORLDS BEST SCARAMOUCHE SMAU AUTHOR EVR AKNFKAMFKND

im so inactive its crazy but i wanna be active again 😞 IM DOING SO GOOOD HOW ARE U MY LOVE!! 😫😫🫶🫶🫶 i wanna hear everything omg it feels like we havent spoke in ages

the only major change ive experienced in my 6 month inactivity is getting a kitty hehe SHE SAYS HI!!! she also says ur super cute and gorjus and amazing mwah <33

[2018-01-20]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 💌 ꒱ ˎˊ˗ to boo : 

the love express is back !! ! ! and is hoping that u’ll accept this little gift of hot chocolate ☕︎ and a cookie 🍪 remember to take care of yourself & be just as kind to yourself as a friend ( ← me !!! ) would ! !  !! sending u all the love & blessings over this very sunny morning and i hope u get to smile a bit today ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´- i adore u & im glad u exist ! ! !! ! ♡

THIS IS SO LATE IM SO SORRY BUT THANK YEWWWW YING!!! i adore u even more and i rlly cherish ur presence during our 2020 tumblr journey to now even tho im so inactive 😞😞 hope u have an amazing bday and continue to have amazing days for the rest of ur life 🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪

[xianyoon-deactivated20241106]

𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

alhaitham x gn!reader. hurt & comfort, fluff. reader works at the akademiya and is pretty badly treated by most people for some reason. alhaitham reminds you that you are loved by him !!!!! ♡ . reader is inspired by me ( dec 26 bday + peanut allergy + prone to bouts of anxiety ) ノ based off my own interpretation of how alhaitham loves. ノ wc 2.5k.

ask around the bustling hub of sumeru city, and the native dreamers would often describe being loved as something mesmerising and captivating – like a kaleidoscope, twisting and turning enchantingly in hopes that the beads would fall perfectly in place, but it never always truly does – it is endearing and a lesson for the lovers all the same. the messy beads twirl and turn but there is just some reason why they can’t get enough of it.

the thinkers talk about love like an anchor dragging you further and deeper down into the depths of adoration and affection and infatuation; to them, there are often few clear differentiations between sinking into love and drowning in it.

for alhaitham, however – love is natural, like the cycle of growth of the dainty flowers and wild grass beneath his feet. a swanlike, enchanting piece of music that flows from your violin’s bow – with the right person, it is as natural as breathing.

but for alhaitham, however – love is also... unnatural, given his lack of experience. he has adoring fans, he has scholars singing his praises and piles of handwritten letters from secret admirers commending his mind and aesthete – but he has never loved before, not until you.

the first act of love. listening, when nobody else will try to.

alhaitham is a wonderful listener. if you ask him, he’d say that he prefers listening, even – he is content to hear all that you have to say, however nonsensical or ridiculous you sound to others. the scribe’s work is simple, so he never truly minds – to sit quietly with a small smile on his face while you talk his ear off about anything and everything – that is what love is, you are sure.

“hey, i’m sorry.. this is just too much right now.” you know they use this as a replacement for you.

“could you tell me another time?” another time will never come.

“just keep quiet, archons! do you ever shut up?” no, i’m sorry. i probably should.

alhaitham watches from his office as your heart breaks with every unwilling individual, each choosing to walk away while you tore your heart out, still bleeding from your ribcage while laying the offering bare at their feet. how could a human being be so cruel? there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ – yet you believe you cannot make it speak because they do not choose to listen.

“...i believe you hadn’t quite finished your story from the last time we met.” he speaks plainly, eyes glistening – with pity or with eagerness is something you don’t wish to distinguish. let it be the same, lest the heartbreaking realisation that he is just like the others.

“you remember?” you ask cautiously. please do, i can’t bear to beg anyone anymore.

“i do. that day about your old neighbour’s dog escaping into your garden. you’re welcome to continue, if you’d like.”

he watches your eyes light up as you trip and stumble over your words, quietly surprised and eager to please. there is a soft feeling in his chest – a warm, weighing feeling nestled in his ribcage.

the second act of love. remembering, when it feels like no one else does.

it is no secret that alhaitham’s mind is incredible. highly intelligent, closely observant, adept at noticing discrepancies – any researcher would fight to have him take a spot on their team. he is good at remembering, you think to yourself – alhaitham remembers everything – the things you’d grovel at someone’s feet, to remember the slightest thing about you, for, and everything you wished the world forgot. him remembering everything is incredible – whether that be a good thing, or not; is another.

“when’s your birthday again?” your co-worker taps his fingers against his chin, looking through the sheet of office birthdays.

“it’s–”

“december 26th.” alhaitham walks past, not looking up from his notebook.

you and your co-worker stare in silence. he...

“yeah, december 26th...” you catch a glimpse of the silver-haired scribe around the corner. he remembered. even if it was just an offhand comment about how funny you found your birthday to be right after christmas. he remembered.

“huh.” your co-worker shrugs it off, noting it down on the list as if nothing happened.

something happened. you feel something warm blossoming in your chest – warm, comforting, lovely all the same. a tender, sweet feeling like the heavy blanket on a rainy day that attempts to capture your heart in your throat and keep it captive forever; there is so much you want to say to alhaitham. it’s nice that he remembers – out of all your friends ( was he a friend? ), who could confidently say the date without thinking twice?

“i believe those are nuts. if i recall correctly, aren’t you allergic?” the next time you see a glimpse of his silver hair, alhaitham peers into your bowl of noodles. nuts – how comical it is to think that such a small, minuscule digit could potentially cut off breathing for you.

“i thought i told them ... perhaps i didn’t.” you mumble, hurriedly spitting out half-chewed food into your tissue. you stare tiredly into your bowl – surely you remember letting the waiter know that you had an allergy.

“you did.”

before you could even turn your head to reply to his reassurance, alhaitham flags down the same, tired waiter. he trudges to your table, serving tray tucked between his arm and body.

“can i be of service?”

“excuse me, i believe we mentioned earlier that they couldn’t have nuts.” alhaitham stares at him in the eye, glancing briefly at your bowl with spat-out nuts beside it. the waiter grabs it, letting out a soft sigh of frustration.

“you are a service professional, are you not?” alhaitham interrupts the languid movement; yet he does not break the stare.

“sir, i am just a wa–”

“my apologies. are you are a paid member of this establishment?”

“i am.” the waiter nods in quiet submission. it is better to shut up than to argue with a man who loves.

“you understand the laws regarding a customer’s health and safety, do you not? even if it’s tiresome, if they had gone into an anaphylactic shock here in your cafe, i believe it would have been a matter of time before an investigation is launched and a lawsuit is filed.”

you hear alhaitham soften at the word they. they. you. you are important enough to him that he’d quietly, but fiercely rip into the waiter over your allergy. (alhaitham wishes you felt important enough to care about your health instead of apologising for not speaking loud enough.)

the waiter steels himself and takes your bowl back to the kitchen without another word.

“thank you,” you turn to alhaitham. “that meant a lot.”

you show him a soft smile, and alhaitham feels a wave of silent thankfulness wash over himself – that you sit before him, wearing a bright and sweet smile and not a pained grimace from struggling to breathe, on your features. he feels the same warmth in his chest once again.

“you don’t need to thank me.”

alhaitham remembers, even when it feels like no one else does.

the third act of love. holding, when your skin feels achingly colder.

alhaitham does not strike people as a touchy person; his love language is not physical touch. touch scares him a little, even. the thought that a simple loving gesture could be twisted and morphed into a threatening hold scares even the most intelligent and strong of men – but he is human, and that is enough for him to appreciate lingering touches on his back as and when he needs and wants to.

he sees you – fingers twitching and rubbing against each other, clumsily tapping against your palms then scrunching inwards – you need touch. you need to be held. it was as simple and as crucial as breathing. your fingers press in inwards of itself, and he watches the colour recede and return once again as you loosen your grip.

“come here,” alhaitham gestures, wrapping your hand around his. there’s something comforting about how your hand is smaller than his; it’s not that much smaller, but it’s smaller all the same. if you curled yourself up even more, perhaps you’d be able to fit into the palm of his hands.

“don’t do that. you’ll hurt yourself.”

“do what?” you look at him quizzically.

“i wasn’t sure if you were unaware, but you tend to self-soothe and search for touch.” he sighs quietly, absent-mindedly stroking your purlicue as he turned back to his book.

“although i believe you search for it too much. press too hard, and you’ll start to feel numb.”

“ah.” you stare at your hands – the left, which he holds, and the right, resting on the cool table.

“thank you.”

“i said before, there is no need to thank me. if it is a simple matter regarding your well-being, i would do–” he stops himself. anything, is left hanging in silence.

“i would be happy to resolve that matter.”

even holding you? would he dare hold something so shamefully broken?

“thank you...” you close your eyes. he hesitates; just once.

“you don’t sound pleased, nor satisfied. was it something i said?” you hear his voice soften.

no, it’s not you. you shake your head quietly, resting your head against your right palm on the table.

“it’s alright. you do not have to talk if you don’t wish to.” alhaitham replies. you feel him smoothing your hair back – a touch so soft and tender, you can hardly believe it to be for yourself. it was intoxicating; his touch lacked lust, full in love– you have never been loved (loved?) like this before.

you feel slightly warmer now.

the fourth act of love. comforting, when there seems to be no one in your corner.

“i just wanted them to be different. just this once. is that too much to even ask?”

alhaitham holds you tightly as you sob and lament; he holds tighter than he ever has before, and he mourns. he mourns for the walls you had slowly built up over time dawn with the realisation that it had been justified all along; alhaitham knows how hard you have begged for them to be unneeded.

“i know.”

you hiccup, ducking beneath his arm tiredly – and he holds you gently. he holds you, arm resting on the crook of your neck as you rest against a pillow on his side – he holds you like he has done it all his life. fitting yourself – not small but not big – into his frame, alhaitham thinks, may very well be the most natural thing the world has brought him.

“they had no right to treat you like that. i’m sorry.”

“it’s not your fault.” you sniffle.

archon, it hurt. you were going to get hurt in every lifetime, you know that– no, you deserved it. that has been etched into your mind since day one of starting your work. that was just who you were. the poor, miserable corner-sitter who had nothing else to do but correct their own mistakes. no initiative, no ounce of thought. why had the akademiya even hired you if its own people despised you?

“you don’t deserve to be hurt over and over, you know.”

how did he know?

“you said that aloud.”

you mumble a soft sorry, and he replies, shaking his head.

“it isn’t your fault,” alhaitham echoes your previous sentiment, almost teasingly. “i believe you’re smart enough to figure that out.”

before you look up at his tousled hair to reply, you feel a soft kiss pressed to your forehead.

a kiss.

his kiss.

“if you find them still bothering you, come and talk to me. the scribe’s position is – it may not be much – but i know with my place within the akademiya, they will listen. i promise you this,” he holds your warm hands in his broader ones.

“if they do not stop, i will leave. i have no regard for a company that will not protect its own workers.”

he wants to say a company that will not protect you, but thinks otherwise. perhaps it is too much right now after his impulsive kiss –that is the one thing that alhaitham mulls over. he has never been impulsive before; always thinking through and filtering and being rational and all the things that makes alhaitham, alhaitham. being impulsive is not a trait others describe him by. 

so why, you–?

the fifth act of love. loving you, even when you believe people cannot.

–because he loves you, and alhaitham cannot, for the life of him and even with all the overbearing advice from kaveh and more bearable guidance from nahida – he cannot put it into words. for the first time in his life, alhaitham stumbles over himself, words tumbling out like love letters hastily shoved into a sack with a cut into it.

“what is so special about me? you’re always here, alhaitham, yet you never grow sick of me.”

he finds himself caught off guard when you ask suddenly, caught in today’s throes of insecurities. your words hang cautiously on your tongue like a snake waiting for the moment a displeased reaction appears – whether you hiss or hide, is something alhaitham feels a modicum of curiosity about, pulsing, and pulsing, until he tries.

“you-”

there are too many things that he can think of, he feels. nahida, give me strength.

“you are- you are kind. and generous. you have a heart for people even when they do not have one for you.” he starts, slowly. “you listen intently, and you enable people to open and talk. they talk because you listen and you support them with all your soul and it is so evident that you love.”

you want to cry.

“i admit i am not good with words, but you deserve every vow i utter tonight. you love so loudly, and you feel no shame for it – you have inspired me, and i dare confess that there have been many times i have desired to pull back, out of worry that i have felt the distinct possibility that i was about to fall in love with you.”

oh. you blink as if that hasn’t been obvious enough.

alhaitham is deeply and madly in love with you.

“i love you, not only because you are special, but also because i believe you deserve every ounce of love i can retrieve from myself. i know it has been made clear to you that others do not feel the same way, and it hurts to believe that some of it has come from those i know – i promise to be different–”

“you already are, alhaitham.” you feel yourself choke up. love is entangling itself around your trachea and holding you hostage, never letting go.

“you have never treated me with the same contempt. i love you, i know you return my feelings and for that i am thankful. i’m sorry that i’m not an easy person to love, please...” you trail off, feeling his body collide into yours. alhaitham holds you. he holds you, hand on your back and the other cradling your head against his shoulder.

“i want to love you,” he whispers into your hair. “please let me.”

so, about love–

ask alhaitham? you see a soft smile adorns his features as he mulls over the question of what love is to him. love, forever yours, evermore.

[xianyoon-deactivated20241106]

TO BE LOVED ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧

a genshin impact multichapter series.

⟢ synopsis

⤷ to be loved by genshin men who appreciate art forms – where their favourite piece of art is you. a series where you, the reader, are their muse. let them love you in the way they know best – their mastercraft. this is a reupload + additions of my work from my previous blog.

⟢ genre and warnings

⤷ comfort, fluff, slight angst. in some chapters, the reader is insecure and has low self-esteem ( hence the reassurance ) and there will be mention of physical appearance, but it won't be gendered at all. dialogue can be jane austen-like because i wanted to try something out, so i apologise if it sounds ooc :')

⟢ chapters

001. THE PAINTER, ALBEDO

002. THE POET, ZHONGLI

003. THE PHOTOGRAPHER, DILUC

004. THE WRITER, ALHAITHAM

005. THE SINGER, CHILDE

006. THE DANCER, WRIOTHESLEY

007. THE SCULPTOR, KAVEH

008. THE ACTOR, LYNEY

009. CONCLUSION.

⟢ notes

⤷ 8 chapters of fluff, reassurance, hurt and comfort! ! ! !! ! not all chapters have insecure reader – just a warning. all chapters will be ranging in length from a 400 – 700 words! it's fairly short, but it's not meant to be very long ... i think . this is a reupload of some of my works – chapter 1 - 4 has already been posted before so don't worry if you see something on dash from i23kazu that looks similar. spotify playlist.

⟢ taglist

do comment on this post or send an ask to be on the taglist!

ִ ࣪𖤐 2024 @xianyoon do not plagiarise, translate, or feed any of my works to ai.

reblogs appreciated :”)

[i23kazu]

ooh check this out btw .. i made it into a series hehe

[i23kazu]

THIS IS AN OFFICIAL MESSAGE:

thank you for all the memories!!! this blog is on ARCHIVE.

i have moved to @xianyoon

notes:

all brewing works will be moved there

all series on hiatus as i figure out what to do :(

please follow me on xianyoon instead teehee

i will still be affiliated on everything just on that new blog hehe

old pinned

[thatboisus]

he wants me so bad (he’s fictional and i read a fanfic about him)

[b4tboys]

➣ matchmaking or meddling?

pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

word count: 1.6K

summary: you find out just how much your students have been meddling in your love life, though you can’t really be mad.

notes from lee: i’m afraid to make this look like an award acceptance speech so ill be brief. had to make a fic for the namesake of the blog and a very late hbd to boo (@2018-01-20). kinda wish i had more interactions with the kids, but i ended up w/ a lot of gojo pov also unedited

Looking back it should have been obvious what these kids of yours were up to. Yes, they were the reason you were in this god-forsaken closet with a blindfolded fool.

You’re only really aware of their meddling now as you hear their snickers from the hallway, so you can’t quite tell when their meddling started. But it makes sense that they were plotting something, but was it in collaboration with Satoru? Because it seemed like every mishap or coincidence between your two classes, Satoru took it in stride and turned it into his advantage. Just like he was taking advantage of the situation now…

Thinking back, your first clue should have been with the sticky notes. A note scrawled on a pink sticky note, in actually legible handwriting, addressed to you like a valentine. Reading, “from: Satoru ;D to: (y/n) <3; do you look this good every day or do i just not remove my blindfold enough????” It’s on top of a stack of papers handed over by the ever-stoic Fushiguro. Surely to get your guard down, and it did.

When you interrogate your fellow teacher about it later, he keeps his normal all-knowing grin plastered on his face. Now they, being the kids who orchestrated it, don’t need to do any work as every day after that there’s a new sticky note somewhere for you to see. They vary in color, most in some shade of pink, some with bad pick-up lines, others with a stick figure drawing, or the very rare ones hidden away with words that make you spit out your drink.

Or maybe another tip off should have been the ‘coincidental’ times you’d have the second years out on the training field and he just so happened to also plan a demonstration for the first years at the same time. But then again you don’t hear their snickering above your irritation at the white-haired man as he lets you jab a finger into his chest, with his annoying smirk.

But they notice you don’t care anymore that he peeks his head over your shoulder to look at your teaching outline just so he can do the ‘coincidental’ planning now.

And still the biggest hint that you fall for every time, is when they leave you at the cafe with just Satoru after begging for a weekend meetup. And again, when they ask to have team dinners, study sessions, or extra training, it's ridiculous. Your gullibility and trust in them is commendable, but it’s become laughable as you still trust in the kids to show up. And they do, just in disguise from across wherever you are as they watch Satoru come to your rescue every time.

Maybe the more ridiculous part is when the rare glimpse of their teacher’s eyes is pointed, peeking through their poorly crafted disguises, at them from across the room with a smirk.

He’s noticed for a while now that the kids are playing matchmaker, and their skills are much better than those his clan hires. And to be honest, he doesn’t mind, if anything he finds it cute that they think he needs the help. Though admittedly they do have some good ideas. Each one never fails to fluster you, in your own cute and angry way, as he takes over their schemes. His six-eyes catch the flurry of texts sent every time he does so, which he’s sure just encourages them further.

Satoru’s not quite sure when his feelings for you developed. He’s always found you attractive, especially when you were his cute kouhai (he still likes to call you that in order to annoy you until you begrudgingly call him senpai once again.). Everything he learns about you only adds to his initial interest. He’s a sucker for getting to know the little things, like your favorite dinner spot after a tough mission or what your ideal day off is. Once you accept his feelings he’ll put the knowledge you deem useless to good work.

But there’s a moment that sits so starkly in his memory as the first time he realized he was in love with you and not just intrigued or infatuated.

It was maybe around the time Tsumiki had gotten sick and though Megumi was self sufficient, Satoru didn’t feel that he should be alone. He knows he’s not the best at comfort, hell he could barely comfort himself, so he sends you.

And he’s not overly worried about you, you’re a teacher so he’s sure you’ll get through to the ever prickly Megumi just fine. Plus you’ve always been significantly better at handling emotional situations, he knows first hand. So when he comes to check on you after finishing his mission, he smiles at your success.

Megumi’s head rests on your lap, asleep, and you’re slumped over the armrest. There’s a twang of jealousy that pricks at his mind, wishing it was him in your lap instead, but all he can think about is having you greet him as he comes home and Megumi and Tsumiki sitting for dinner and that would be yours and his alone.

He’s never felt like someone that would settle down or want a family, especially given the circumstances of his status. But you, in this moment, make him want to move past the shrewdness of the higher ups and his clan, and just have you. He longs for something that is just his, not part of Jujutsu Society, the higher ups, or his clan, or even Satoru Gojo, he wants things just for Satoru, just for him.

You are that something, that someone, he wants, he’s convinced that he needs you like the air he breathes. The weird surge of emotions that have been kept bottled up since a dark day suddenly seems to make sense and it has a name, it’s love.

So when he’s reminiscing on his feelings, it really has been there all along, but it’s that very specific moment in which his love for you was defined.

And the apex of all his work in gently guiding you to realize your feelings, that he’s very sure are there, is in a closet of all places. His blue eyes glow dimly in the dark of the closet with the snickers of his students on the other side.

“Hey,” he breathes out, much less confident than he intended, but you make him nervous.

You meet his bright eyes briefly before looking away and returning the greeting, “Um, hi.”

His breath hitches and his mind blanks, every funny line or flirty remark he could make right now is gone. He can’t think about anything other than you, how cute your expression is, how good your hair looks even slightly messed up, but mainly your lips and how much he needs to kiss you before he leaves this cramped closet. “How are you?”

You blink at him incredulously, “We’re in a closet, Gojo. How do you think I am?”

He tosses his head back and groans as you use his last name, he thought he’d gotten you to call him Satoru like pretty much everyone did. “C’mon (Y/n), you know I hate when you call me that.” He whines and pouts, jutting his bottom lip out like a toddler.

He watches the guilt flash across your face briefly, surely it’s you remembering how he confided in you about hating the weight that came with his last name. “Sorry, I know. I know,” you pause and he senses your hesitancy and waits, “Satoru.”

He’s got a big shit-eating grin on his face that differs from his usual smirk as he rocks on his feet with his heart fluttering.

“You really like it that much when I call you ‘Satoru’?” You ask, eyeing up his body language with a skeptical look.

“Maybe.” He answers in a sing-song tone, he’s back to his usual self, “But you know what I’d like more?”

He leans in close and glances down at your lips. No matter how many times he does this, it always results in him pulling away with a teasing smile. So when he feels your hands wrap around the neck of his uniform and pull him closer, it’s certainly a surprise.

“You want a kiss?” You ask and he nods meekly, if possible, and you do, you kiss him. Satoru’s eyes flutter shut as his heart flutters in his stomach. His big hands reach up to cup your face and keep you glued to his lips. Gods, it’s everything he’s dreamed about and more.

When you part from him to catch your breath, he’s smiling. “I hope you know I want much more than a kiss.” He waits for you to breathe and to watch your reaction before smashing his lips onto yours again.

Satoru feels your arms wrapped around his neck and how your hands crawl through his undercut to tug at his hair. And he’s similar, the hands once holding your face have traced down your body to your hips so he can hold you close.

The knock on the door cuts your time short, your tongues and bodies having to part. Satoru watches as you smooth over your clothes and hair before he pulls up his blindfold. The door opens not a moment later to reveal the two classes waiting with bated breath to see something scandalous.

They are disappointed, fortunately for you and your image as a teacher. None of the students have the time to catch the heavy blush on his face as he slips away while you lecture them. But they do notice how flustered you are when you get a text from Satoru, “dinner 2nite?”

[2018-01-20]

LEE. LEEEEEWEWWWWWWEEEEEEEEE.

[2018-01-20]

HI BABE I DIDNT KNOW KT WAS YOUR BIRTHDAY AND I FEEL SO SO BAD SO ONCE I GET THEOUGH MY CLASSES THIS WEEK ILL FINISH UP MY SATORU WIP AND DEDICATE IT TO YOU PROMOSE AND IF I DONT YOU CAN YELL AT ME TK FINSH IT

ILY SM I HOPE YOU HAD A HAPPY BIRTHDAY AND THAT EVERTHING IS GOING WELL

srry for being so aggressive with the all caps but it’s bc of my dedication of love for you obvs /p 🫶🩵🎂

LEE OH MY GOD. I HAVW SO MUCH TO AAY

first of all THANK U SO MUCH?!!?? ITS OKAY LEE PLEAASE DONT FEEL BAD OMG 😭😭 IM SO SORRY FOR ANSWERING THIS SO LATE BUT WTF ILYSM i literally just logged back on today and oh. my god. UR FIC IS MAKING ME KICKK MY FEETTT I CANTTT.

EVERTHING IS ABSOLUTELY GOING WELL AND UR FIC MADE MY WHOLE DAY 🫶🫶🫶 pls scream at me w caps anytime i love it so much THANK U THANK THANK U LEEE i literally hope you have the bestest day ever bc u deserve it and also now im in incredible brainrot for gojo satoru because of ur beautiful writing i cant anymore man

the way u write dialogue OHHH GODDD i just swoon. lil old reader making the big strongest man tall superman gojo satoru shy is EVERYTHING TO MEEEE U SONT UDNERSTANDNSKMQKFM

literally. these 2 lines bro are my absolute fav i could not stop kicking my feet and rereading it over and over i am now going to tattoo this across my forehead ???????? lee what have u done to me ?????? just the little phrase "but you make him nervous" and "um hi" is so freaking cute it speaks literal worlds holy moly

AND THE LAST LINE BRO ALMFLAMDKAMDM THE WAY HE TEXTS its so silly and annoying i hate him (liteeally blushing i can tnaymore)

[pikipouet]

Starry night

[i-am-aprl]

Noor Harazeen you are the world's hero. You're completely correct, this is not normal. This is evil and no human needs to make these decisions.

[i23kazu]

genshinblr january ebg 2024

players, you know the rules. the game lasts till 26 jan 10pm gmt+8. sabotage each other, make new friends, form alliances, break them, create bloodshed! it's up to you. contact me if you have any queries.

the rules.

the game will run from 19 to 26 january 2024 ! it will be hosted by me :)

participants are not allowed to interact with their original biases. their original biases do not exist to them during this game.

reblogging things with / directly responding to things that contain your original bias' / their name will incur a strike !

participants may reply to asks containing their original bias' name, but must not say it / describe the bias in any way.

sabotaging others who have the same bias is allowed , but you are not allowed to say the bias' name, or describe them in any way. they do not exist to you. if you can figure out a way to still sabotage someone who has them... you're most welcome to.

participants have 3 lives ! with each strike, one life dies. 3 strikes, and the player loses the game.

during this ebg, you can earn points by creating things about your assigned bias. (eg. if my assigned bias is kaeya, and if i write something for kaeya (200+ words), i'll get 500 points!)

tag me (@i23kazu) when you create something! i'll assign you your points. each piece of work is standard with 500 points. use the tag #genshinblr january ebg 2024 so that i can track it better !

players and non-players are allowed to sabotage each other with asks . a list with everybody's original biases will be released ! please go ham !

non-players, i am counting on you to help me check on the players !!!!

yes , you are allowed to reblog the original bias list post at the start of the game even though it has your og bias name on it . reblogging it midway through the game will earn you a strike .

url changes are not necessary , but theme changes ( if it has your original bias ) are ! players are given 24 hours to change their themes , if their original theme is of their original bias — only when the game starts . after the 24 hour limit is up , players who still have their original bias as their theme will earn a strike . if your original theme is not about your original bias, there is no need to change it .

players who lose the game will earn a forfeit that will have to be performed at the end of the event ♡

about points.

500 points are awarded as a standard for each creation. for writing, it should be 200 words minimum, and for art, it should be lineart minimum. for edits, it'll be at my discretion! each piece should have some effort put into it – not just created for the sake of earning points .

players can use their points from creations to strike people ! each strike costs 1000 points . each player is limited to one earnable, redeemable , and giftable strike each day . just send me an ask to strike someone !

players will be able to spend 2000 points to heal themselves as well ! the heals have no limit per day – as long as you can fork up 2000 points, you get the heal !

for 2000 points , players can redeem one hour to be free from ebg , starting from the period of time when i approve the redemption . the hour is consecutive and cannot be split up into different periods . this one hour can only be redeemed ONCE in the entirety of the whole game , and has to be approved by me first before starting the period . if players start the hour without me knowing, they will earn a strike .

players.

format: player | points | strikes

@jingyuansbird |

@dumbificat |

@dxy-drxxm |

@rainswept |

@abyssmal-skies |

@realkavehgf |

@staretes |

@meidnightrain |

@addictedtoreverse1999 |

@sleepypengwin |

@ryuryuryuyurboat |

@risustravelogue |

@xcyphoz0a | 500 pts

@the-white-void |

@mikudoodles |

@crystalflygeo |

@relianascara |

@i-probably-sleep-too-much |

@faesther |

@chaoffee |

@haliyarobin |

@moonltwltz |

@starglitterz |

@snobwaffles |

@tokyodriftt |

@cerberuscaeli |

@kazumist |

[starglitterz]

serendipity. (vi)

─── chapter 6 ! ~ your friends are here ! (oh no)

summary; when you, a waitress at the local coffee shop, are paired up with the new recruit scaramouche, you’re pretty sure both of you are going to get fired within a week. he’s just quit being a social media influencer and after being forced to work here to make ends meet, he’s ready to let everyone there know how much he hates it. the worst part? you can’t shake the feeling that you know him from somewhere. but as he slowly warms up to you, scaramouche realises that having a fresh start isn’t that bad after all, and perhaps the two of you meeting like this was pure serendipity.

a/n; HIIII sorry it's been a while 💔 anyways i really like this chapter, i added quite a few things that weren't in my original plan to hopefully link the future chapters better, so i hope you all like it hehe lmk what u think!

warning(s); one (1) kys joke

previous.┃masterlist.┃next.

please reblog w comments ! it helps a lot :)

( y/n's phone )

groupchat !

twitter #1 !

twitter #2 !

private messages !

( scara's phone )

groupchat !

( kokomi's phone )

private messages !

scarayn the sillies... i love them ahhh,,, also i'll let you guys decide kokomi's intentions for yourselves hahaha

© starglitterz 2024. do not repost or modify in any way.

[keyunto]

demon king of salvation