"Overseer..." You whisper with a hoarse and cracked voice as the blood vessels pop around your eyes while you strain them in anger hearing that damned title being uttered.
You hung your head back down to face them, your eyes tinted with golden blood as you stare at them with rage. "Say that again, and you'll get a taste of what the 'Overseer' can do." Your hoarse and wretched tone made the two on the other side of the bars take a step back.
Your eyes remain glaring at both Nahida and the Wanderer. After some time, you release the bars from your grasp and return to a lax state like before. "Good... Now, what else are you here for?" Your tone returned to its early cheery attitude like a robot getting its settings reset.
The two outside the bars step back, wary and trepidation on their feet from your uncanny and inhumane movements. "You... All those lives... every loop... you-" Nahida whispered as she tried to ease you enough to make you explain to her more only to be cut off with a glare that could split mountains like butter.
"Don't overstep your boundaries. The only reason I haven't snapped Teyvat to oblivion was because..." Your voice trails off, and your piercing gaze softens as you are reminded of when this world was once bright and colourful to you, how the grass and the wind felt like a breath of spring grazing your skin.
Wanderer notices your body softening, a moment of weakness compared to your eccentrically inhumane behaviour before, perhaps a chance to penetrate your cold exterior. But that plan was quickly put aside when you stood back up again. Although you were still a sulking figure, the aura you were emitting made you untouchable.
You heave a small sigh knowing the real reason why couldn't let go of this world aside from the joyful memories you made here. "... I am still human after all. If I destroy Teyvat, I will simply die along with it due to my mortality." Your soft whisper echoed across the dungeon as you stepped forward with your hand gently holding the bars of your cell.
"You merely caught a glance of the countless loops I've had. It doesn't hurt anymore, it's no different than waking up from yesterday and doing the same old routine." You spoke softly as you looked down on her, the space between had never felt so narrow as no one had ever wanted to hear you utter a word from your wretched existence as an imposter of their Divine Overseer.
"There's no point in helping me... In the many loops I've had, I've seen it all. From being an imposter, the Overseer, or simply an envoy of your Overseer... I died by the blade, against age, and illness. "No matter what sort of GOD I am, in this vessel, I am MORTAL."
Nahida and Wanderer eventually left the dungeon and met up with Zhongli who was impatiently waiting for their return — his brows furrowed with downturned lips — clearly dissatisfied with the young god holding up the imposter's execution with her interrogation. "Buer, I respect your place as an archon of the seven, but, why are you defending a traitor, an imposter who besmirches on our Divine Overseer's name!"
"No, they're not! They are the true Divine Overseer! And they have the means to prove it!" The Dendro Godd tries to defend your name only to be silenced when the sound of crackling lightning is heard flashing across the darkened sky before the Shogun makes her presence fill the air as the sound of her heels clacking the stone ground.
"Are you saying they are to be given a trial, Buer?"
summary : 'all I know is I was enchanted to meet you...'
contains : zhongli x reader ; mutual pining ; fluff ; gn!reader, this drabble is written in second person
word count : 725
ꔛ artwork – @ ameriya7
Zhongli who notices how your ears perk up at his words.
The manner in which you keep a keener ear for what he has to say, intrigued and ever curious of what his comments and interjections include. The manner in which you seem to always have the patience for his long tales, his tidbits on history possessed only by the oldest scrolls and records.
Your attentive eyes, your little nods as you follow along his words, you hold onto his every word— mulling them over, absorbing them in a manner a gardener would preen their flower beds: with a gentle patience, with attentice and warm eyes.
Zhongli who notices your reluctance to take spotlight as he easily does.
The manner in which you don't often share your own thoughts, especially amongst a crowd. The parting of your lips, subtle actions showing your disagreement with the discussion; the slight crease of your forehead, the furrow or twitch of your eyebrows— you listened more than you spoke, saw more than you communicated.
Zhongli who notices your faint reactions towards him.
The manner in which the corner of your lips as twitch, raising into the slightest of smiles— a gesture of agreement— and of surprise at how it seemed that he knew what thoughts you had in your head without you needing to voice it out.
Zhongli who notices how your eyes turn his way more times than necessary.
The manner in which, each time, they would return elsewhere just before he could catch you in the act; the manner in which you seemed to hover close enough to pay attention to the discussions others would include him in, yet never close enough to speak with him directly.
Zhongli who begins asking for your opinions during group discussions.
The manner in which he would pay attention to what ideas you seemed to have— each one holding a depth, although the quietness of your voice making it easy for others to not hear you speak.
Zhongli who would notices the contrast between you and himself.
The manner in which his willingness to part his thoughts and knowledge to others with ease; you who allowed your thoughts to remain shrouded in clouds of mystery.
The manner in which you held back your words, kept yourself in a bubble of your own world, filled with your own ideas and dreams, your words only loud enough for a sharp ear as his to catch. Hushed contributions, quiet musings; enchanting.
Zhongli who knew what your slight smiles, attentive eyes meant.
The manner in which your head turned away swiftly the second his eyes almost makes contact with yours; the manner in which you would never take the initiative to reveal the truth of your heart unprompted, least of all to him.
Zhongli who knew why his own eyes would follow your reactions.
The manner in which he paid mind to your quiet contemplation in regards to the discussions you never directly partook in; the manner in which his own attention was quickly grabbed at the hushed tone of your words in the few instances you put yourself forward. The manner in which he knew what was the truth of his own heart.
Zhongli who would turn group discussions into private exchange of thoughts.
The manner in which he would invite you for a cup of tea to hear the wondrous thoughts hidden behind your silence, noticing you appear more at ease outside of a crowd.
The manner in which conversations grow into shared tea breaks during the day, into quiet musings on a long trek around the peaks and valleys of Liyue, and into prolonged walks along the ports at night.
Zhongli who narrates any tale you show interest in.
The manner in which he shares tales lost to time with the backdrop of the sparkling surface of waves that wash the shore. The manner in which he would fall hush at noticing your head drooping in the warm evening sunshine.
The manner in which he would let your head rest against his shoulder, a tender hand brushing back the loose strands of hair that fell forward onto your face. The manner in which he would know, and not hold back from acknowledging, that every hour spent with you was flawless, that your smile had him wonderstruck, that he was enchanted by you.
a/n : this drabble was inspired by taylor swift's song named enchanted!! it's been a while since I've written something, and this is also my first writing of the year (although, yes, it took a while; I had my exams for the end of the semester). hope you enjoyed reading it, and if so, do go through my other drabbles if you're interested !!
morning breeze with heizou
prompt: magnolia - riding the bike to the bakery in the morning
content: canon compliant, bakery setting, stupid in love heizou, bad writing (slowly getting used to writing again)
( anon requested)
event masterlist 𝜗𝜚 genshin masterlist
early mornings in inazuma always starts off with heizou carefully slicking back his brunette hair despite his cowlick sticking out every time. he clicked his tongue after giving up for the nth time as he brushed his teeth.
spitting out the paste, he grabbed his preset outfit in the closet– a white button up with a slight wrinkle and a small, faint matcha stain on his side and a pair of sleek, black slacks. he looked at himself in the mirror, the bathroom lights flickering above him… he should really get to fixing that. he pushed the tie’s knot up, trying to look presentable.
you got this. you will get their attention.
a speech he gave to himself to prepare himself to face them again– the same script that he played in his head until he memorized it over and over every morning, only for it to fail when his foot stepped into the tiled floored bakery.
not today, tevyat–
he brought his imaginary microphone close to his mouth as he announced to no one but himself. he cleared his throat, “today… is the day, i will finally talk to them without a single stutter!!!”
air horns played as he hyped himself up, his eyes darted to the clock ticking away. the bakery opens at 7:00 am sharp but they would be there for opening early at least 6. maybe even 6:30. if he goes by train, he could be early to the bakery unless the street had installed waypoints in areas where locals frequent…
decisions… decisions…
heizou tried to slick back his hair again as he walked out of the bathroom, it laid flat perfectly. he fist bumped the air before it sprung back up again. it will work out… later… probably.
what he didn’t expect when he dusted off his years old bicycle is that you’d be riding your bike right next to him. what kind of luck did he receive to get this view?
⤷ info: kazuha x gn!reader || fluff, with a little comfort? || wc: 1879
⤷ warnings: modern au, reader and kazuha have to hide their relationship, near 2k words of me rambling tbh
⤷ extra: this is a little different than my usual formatting (and it's longer) because it was originally a gift for @milk-violet so everyone better thank her for convincing me to post this here
The entertainment industry is a world of glitz, glamour, and unrelenting scrutiny. You knew this the moment you stepped into it, but nothing quite prepared you for the secret-keeping. Or, more specifically, the secret you and Kazuha had been guarding for almost two years now.
Dating a co-star—especially one as universally adored as Kazuha—was a perilous game. The whispers of fans, the prying eyes of paparazzi, and the ironclad contracts that forbade any public display of affection were all things you had to navigate carefully. But no amount of restrictions could dim the warmth of Kazuha’s love, the way his eyes would soften when he looked at you or the quiet moments you stole together in between filming.
You were good at pretending. Both of you were. It was practically a requirement for your jobs. But when the announcement came that you and Kazuha had been cast as the leads in a new romantic drama, your heart nearly stopped.
“It’ll be fine,” Kazuha had said when you told him your concerns. The two of you were curled up on his couch, a rare evening off spent hidden away in his apartment. His hand rested on yours, fingers drawing lazy patterns on your skin. “We’re professionals. No one will suspect a thing.”
“You mean no one will suspect a thing if you stop looking at me like that during rehearsals,” you retorted, though the playful lilt in your voice couldn’t hide your nervousness.
He smiled, that soft, lopsided smile that always made your heart flutter. “I’ll do my best,” he teased.
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help smiling back.
---
The first few weeks of filming went smoothly… mostly. The script was a classic love story with all the hallmarks of a hit: misunderstandings, longing glances, and a climactic confession scene that promised to leave audiences breathless. It was the kind of story that could make or break careers.
But for you, every take felt like walking a tightrope. Playing opposite Kazuha was both exhilarating and terrifying. When the cameras rolled, his every touch, every look, felt so achingly real that you had to remind yourself to stay in character. Worse still, the cast and crew were beginning to notice.
“You two have such natural chemistry,” the director said one day, after a particularly intense scene. “It’s like you’re not even acting.”
Kazuha’s hand brushed yours under the table during the script meeting that followed, a silent reassurance that he’d felt it too. The line between reality and fiction was blurring, and neither of you was doing a great job of hiding it.
It wasn’t just the director who was noticing, either. The makeup artist teased you about how easily Kazuha could make you laugh, while the wardrobe team joked about how effortlessly you complemented each other’s looks. Even the lighting crew started setting up shots with an unspoken understanding that the two of you simply fit.
“You know,” your co-star remarked one afternoon, a knowing glint in their eye, “if I didn’t know better, I’d think there was something going on between you two.”
You’d laughed it off, feigning confusion with a well-practiced air of innocence. Kazuha, ever the picture of calm, had simply smiled and quipped, “That’s just the magic of a good script.”
But behind closed doors, the pressure was mounting. Each whispered comment or lingering glance felt like a thread unraveling the careful tapestry you’d both woven to keep your relationship hidden. Still, the fleeting moments of stolen intimacy—when his hand would linger just a second too long on yours as he passed you a coffee, or when he’d quietly slip you a note during a break—were worth every risk.
It was a game of balancing acts, a performance within a performance. And as the days turned into weeks, you began to wonder how long you could keep the act going without the truth slipping through the cracks.
---
And then came the confession scene. The one the entire drama hinged on.
It was a quiet, tender moment set under a canopy of stars. Your character, heartbroken and hesitant, would finally admit their feelings. Kazuha’s character would take your hand, look into your eyes, and deliver a monologue so heartfelt it would make anyone believe in love.
You’d rehearsed the lines a hundred times, but as you stood there on set, with Kazuha’s eyes locked on yours, the words felt impossibly heavy.
“Action!” the director called.
Your character hesitated, voice trembling as you spoke. “I can’t keep this to myself anymore. I… I love you.”
Kazuha’s response was immediate, his voice rich with emotion. “And I… I’ve loved you all along.”
His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. The kiss that followed was supposed to be carefully choreographed, a perfect balance of passion and restraint. But the moment his lips met yours, everything else faded away. The cameras, the crew, the carefully constructed facade—none of it mattered. It was just you and Kazuha, your emotions spilling over in a kiss that was as real as the love you shared.
When the director called “cut,” the set was silent. Then came the applause.
“That was incredible!” someone exclaimed. “You’d think they were really in love or something.”
You tried to ignore the knowing looks the crew exchanged as you and Kazuha stepped apart, faces flushed.
The applause and laughter carried on around you, but your heart pounded so loudly it drowned out the noise. Kazuha’s hand lingered on your arm for just a second longer than necessary, his thumb brushing against your sleeve as if silently grounding you. His expression was calm, unreadable to anyone else, but you caught the flicker of something more in his eyes—a mixture of pride and affection that sent a shiver through you.
“You two absolutely nailed that,” the director said, beaming as he walked over. “It’s the kind of chemistry you can’t fake. Keep it up.”
You forced a laugh, nodding in agreement as Kazuha gave a humble shrug. “We’re just following your direction,” he said smoothly, his voice steady and professional. The perfect answer.
Still, the knowing glances didn’t stop. The cast whispered, the crew exchanged smirks, and you could feel the invisible thread tightening around the secret you and Kazuha had worked so hard to protect. Every interaction was now under the microscope, every laugh, every glance, every moment that felt too genuine for comfort.
Later, as you retreated to the quiet sanctuary of your dressing room, Kazuha slipped in after you. He closed the door softly behind him, leaning against it with a small smile that melted some of the tension in your chest.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice low, meant just for you.
You nodded, though your hands were still trembling slightly. “I think we might’ve been a little too convincing.”
Kazuha chuckled, stepping closer to take your hands in his. “Good,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing soothing circles on your skin. “That just means we’re doing our jobs.”
You gave him a half-hearted glare. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Maybe,” he admitted, his voice dipping into something softer, more intimate. “But it’s worth it. As long as you’re by my side.”
The words, simple and earnest, made your heart ache in the best way. For a moment, the walls around your secret didn’t feel like a cage, but a shared refuge. And even if the world came dangerously close to uncovering the truth, you knew that, with Kazuha, you could face whatever came next.
---
You could not face what came next.
The weeks that followed were a whirlwind of filming and speculation. Fans dissected every trailer, every behind-the-scenes clip, noting the undeniable chemistry between you and Kazuha. Gossip columns ran headlines like “Are They or Aren’t They?” and “On-Screen Lovers or Something More?”
Through it all, you and Kazuha maintained your careful act, deflecting questions with practiced ease. But behind closed doors, you laughed about the irony of it all.
“We’re not very good at this, are we?” you said one night, as the two of you reviewed the latest batch of fan theories.
“On the contrary,” Kazuha replied, pulling you into his arms. “I think we’re doing exactly what we set out to do.”
You looked up at him, confused.
“Convincing the world we’re madly in love,” he explained, a playful glint in his eyes. “Because we are.”
You laughed, burying your face in his chest. It was a secret you’d keep as long as you had to, but in moments like this, you didn’t mind.
But the world had a way of testing your resolve.
The tension reached a breaking point during a promotional event for the drama. The room was buzzing with energy, a sea of cameras flashing and reporters clamoring for the best soundbite. You and Kazuha sat side by side on the panel, answering questions with the kind of polished charm that came from months of media training.
“I have to ask,” one reporter began, her tone light but her intent razor-sharp, “the chemistry between you two is… extraordinary. It’s not often we see something this authentic. What’s your secret?”
The question hung in the air like a challenge. You felt your pulse quicken, a bead of sweat forming at your temple. Kazuha, ever the master of composure, leaned forward with a small smile.
“We’ve spent a lot of time together, both on and off set,” he said smoothly. “Getting to know each other’s quirks and nuances is key to creating that kind of connection on screen.”
It was a perfect answer, one that drew a chorus of approving murmurs from the room. But you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep this up.
Later, as the event wound down, you slipped away to catch a moment of peace. You found yourself on the balcony, the cool evening air a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat of the spotlight.
“I thought I’d find you here,” Kazuha’s voice came from behind you.
You turned to see him leaning casually against the doorway, his expression soft but laced with concern.
“I’m fine,” you said quickly, though the tremor in your voice betrayed you.
Kazuha stepped closer, his presence steady and reassuring. “You don’t have to be,” he murmured, reaching for your hand. “Not with me.”
His words broke through the wall you’d been holding up all night. The weight of the charade, the constant scrutiny, the fear of being exposed—it all came rushing to the surface.
“Kazuha,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “What if they find out? What if this all falls apart?”
He cupped your face gently, his eyes locking with yours in that way that always made the world feel like it was spinning just a little slower.
“Then we’ll face it together,” he said, his voice a quiet promise. “No matter what happens, I’m not letting go of us.”
The resolve in his gaze, the steadiness of his touch, was enough to anchor you. In that moment, the world and its prying eyes didn’t matter. It was just you and Kazuha, holding on to the truth you shared, ready to weather whatever storm came your way.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
@amalythea 2025. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.
hiii !! omg i’m so excited to send a request in … happy belated birthday btw 🥹💖
can i have #2 “may i have this dance?” “well, if you insist.” + lyney? i hope you have fun writing this if and when you get to it !!! take ur time & make sure to have lots of breaks in between ‹𝟹
[“may i have this dance?” “well, if you insist.”]
⤷ info: lyney x gn!reader || fluff || wc: 638
⤷ warnings: lyney calls reader pet names
⤷ extra: it's been a month since you sent in this req. i have no words i'm so sorry it took me this long 😭
The grand ballroom was alive with the gentle hum of conversation and the soft strains of a waltz, echoing through the gilded hall. Chandeliers cast their light upon a crowd dressed in their finest attire, but none shone quite like Lyney, who stood near the refreshment table, a glass of sparkling juice in hand. His violet eyes were scanning the room, though it was clear his focus was on one person alone—you.
You stood on the other side of the ballroom, looking resplendent in your outfit, though your expression carried a hint of discomfort, as if you weren't entirely sure what to do with yourself amidst the glittering spectacle. Lyney smirked, setting down his glass, and made his way toward you with the confidence of a man with a plan.
“May I have this dance?” he asked, his voice smooth as silk and just loud enough to catch your attention over the music.
You turned to face him, your brows lifting in mock surprise. “You’re asking me for a dance? Are you sure you’re not planning some kind of trick, Monsieur Magician?”
Lyney placed a hand dramatically over his heart, feigning offense. “You wound me, mon cœur. No tricks this time—just an honest invitation to share a moment with the most dazzling person in the room.” He extended his hand toward you, palm up, his gaze steady and inviting.
“Well, if you insist.” You placed your hand in his, allowing him to lead you to the center of the room. Lyney’s touch was warm and steady, and his smile grew brighter as you stepped closer.
The music swelled, and with a graceful sweep, Lyney led you into the dance. His movements were fluid and practiced, each step perfectly timed to the rhythm of the waltz. You, on the other hand, stumbled slightly at first, but his hand on your waist was a steadying anchor. He chuckled softly, his voice low so only you could hear.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall. Just follow my lead.”
You glared at him playfully. “I wasn’t worried about falling. I was worried about you showing off.”
“Oh, but how can I not?” Lyney spun you gently, guiding you through a turn before pulling you back into his arms. “When I have the most incredible partner, it would be a crime not to.”
Despite yourself, you laughed, the sound blending with the music and the soft murmur of the crowd. As the dance continued, you grew more confident, matching his steps with increasing ease. Lyney’s eyes never left yours, his gaze filled with an affection so intense it made your heart skip a beat.
As the final notes of the waltz played, Lyney slowed your movements until you came to a gentle stop. Applause erupted from the crowd, and it was only then you realized you’d drawn their attention. Heat rose to your cheeks, but Lyney didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. In fact, he bowed theatrically, still holding your hand.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he declared, his voice carrying effortlessly, “I must thank you all for allowing me the honor of sharing this moment with my beloved. But alas, I fear the spotlight belongs to them now.”
The crowd laughed and clapped, and you shot him a look that promised a scolding later. But for now, you curtsied in return, playing along with his antics.
As the attention of the room returned to other dancers, Lyney leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Was that so bad?”
You sighed, shaking your head with a small smile. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, you keep coming back to me,” he teased, his grin playful but his eyes soft with sincerity.
You couldn’t argue with that. After all, how could you resist someone who made even the simplest moments feel like magic?
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
@amalythea 2025. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.
SYNOPSIS... where a far overworked employee takes to participating in The Steambirds newest news program, 'Penpal System'. Only to fall horribly in love with your penpal buddy... who’s also someone you know?
DISCLAIMERS... , female reader, 3.2 archon quest spoilers, small enemies to lovers, cursing, aether traveller, very nerdy + silly reader who is soo emotionally stunted, not proofread
BARISTA'S INTEL... posting this like a year after I pulled alhaitham during his first banner o7... Anyways this fanfic went through so many revisions I hope yall enjoy (alhaitham loml <3)
CAFE TUNE... love story // Indila
LETTER X: Promotion
Working with a boss who is self-sufficient and only prioritizes finishing his nine to five job may actually just kill you.
Even if he’s really, really, really, cute.
Ever since the "great all-mighty" Alhaitham and the hero nicknamed 'The Traveler' saved your "wonderful" Sumeru. A day with the notorious 'Acting Grand Scribe' of Sumeru's Akademiya typically goes like this;
You wake up from a half satisfying sleep, realizing you've once again spent your night face smushed across the hard cold wooden desks of The House of Daena's library. Students who had a life less toxicating then your own; stared, whispering a far bit louder then what they thought would be out of range. Your eyes droop in defeat, having given up frantically -well, to the onlookers, maniacally- explaining that your boss was an egotistical know-it-all that forced you to stay late nights. At some point, all reason to argue became needless months after serving as Alhaitham's secretary.
Staggering half-mindedly down the pavilion, Sumerian robes fluttering loosely around your body as you swipe them sleeves closer to your chest, you tilt your nose up to the aroma of fresh baking from the stalls below. A savory smell of spices licks at your senses as you wander closer to the trail of delectable food waiting for you. It barely takes more than a minute for you to come waddling into Lambad's Tavern
Your daily saving grace, as you peak through the windows, eyes shocking open.
Peering over the windows, you glance nervously side to side as you scour the filled tables for signs of silver flickering hair adorned with a snobby headset of golden. A relieving sigh flies past your lips when you find that no such person exists. At least... In the Tavern.
Although, a tall brunette man peers above the counters, wooden dishes in hand as he notices you. Chuckling knowingly as he serves his customers, watching you stalk his windows. Like a creep-
Goodness, sometimes you almost felt bad for Lambad...
Motioning for you to come in, relief overtakes as you stomp in satisfied, waving politely and flashing a sweet cheery smile at the regulars as you march towards Lambad's bulky figure, his muscles flexing as he waves happily.
"[Name]! It's been only half a day since your last visit! I trust you're still buried head to toe in paperwork? Come, have a seat!"
Graciously, he leans over the table, pulling out a barstool for you as he hunkers back, grabbing a bottle of something underneath.
"Archons grace, you're such a sweetheart Lambad... You're way too kind. You have no idea. Gods, sometimes, I don't even know if I'm dreaming or wide awake and still working this hellish job!! Pleaseee Lambad... You've have got to save me!" Rambling on and on, you thump on the stool, groaning instantly as you slump over the counter, stretching your hands over your face.
Pulling down your cheeks with your hands, a quiet dramatic sob leaves your drained face as you stare all sopping like at the man.
Pouring out a baby yellow drink out of the bottle, Lambad pushes forward a chilled glass, adorned with small chunks of Zaytun peaches. Your mopey eyes trail to the faint sweet smell, launching out to pull the drink in as you place your chin on it.
Ahh... Sweet refreshing cold.
"Oh wow... Sure sounds like you've been through a lot [Name]! Here, try this new peach lassi I came up with recently! It'll be sure to cheer up your stomach at the very least! We can't have Sumeru's best worker going around on an empty stomach now can we!"
Sipping at the drink, the smooth texture of the yogurt mixed drink softens down your throat. An icy touch following with as the sour sweetness beckons you.
Whenever hungry, overworked, and far to underpaid to give enough of a damn, you could always count on Lambad Tavern.
Lambad himself was so used to listening to your daily problems he'd had learn overtime how to soothe your bitter heart. A nice new treat and the bonus of a bar seat left you no room for complaint. Often, he'd make sure to leave a small key underneath a nearby bush, hidden safely in a stowed away box.
Months back, when your boss had first been appointed at his position, and those darn Akademiya scholars had deemed you the perfect candidate to be his dog, Lambad had requested the Kshahrewar Darshan students to craft a small box for the extra key. A distinctive little wooden keep, shaped like a leaf with several knobs pointing out like twigs. Upon his request, the darshan had taken extra care to make the box as interesting and interchangeable as possible.
It made for a good pass time as you spent dewy, chilled mornings, left locked outside your apartment (archons forbid you remember the akasha terminals password for it) as you spent your early hours spent on a bench. Leaning over your crossed legs, you'd nit-pick on the box for hours, fiddling with the pin tumblr locks as you held the box close. Listening for small clicks left behind as the springs allowed for one lock to unlock another.
Zoning back in, you come to notice the lack of sweet yogurt lassi left in your chilled glass. Droplets now trickling down the sides of your glass as they collect, condensation pooling over your stunned fingertips wrapped around from the time you spent spaced out.
.
.
.
"Are you back yet' scholar? You blanked out longer than usual this time around. Hey, you spent so long thinking about whatever caused you to mope this time around, that you forgot to even tell me!" Laughing hardily, Lambad swipes the glass from underneath your freezing hand. Glancing back questioningly.
Strange. You don't usually space out when you're around company.
"Sorry Lambad, I don't know what that was... I just- Well, it felt like I just got wisped away... Weird." Pulling back your hands, you palm over the residual water in your hand, wiping it away on the ends of your Sumerian robes, clothes taking on a darker tone from the soak.
"No problem, lady! It's alright, happens to the best of us. Hey, that does remind me of a story I've been hearing though! Lately, other adventurers and Akademiyian scholars have been boasting around..."
Leaning in over the counter, Lambad whispers, eyes narrowing they dart around nervously,
"I hear that Adventurer's Guild Katheryne has got her hands full with this new program. It's from Fontaine's Steambird! Called the 'Penpal Program'... Sounds fun doesn't it?"
"I- What does that have to do with anything just now! Lambad... Are you crazy?"
"No, no! Let me finish. What I'm saying is, folks have been so upset in their work they've been writing about it across seas to anonymous friends. I hear it wisps you away into your own little escape!" Chuckling, Lambad pulls back, reaching into yet another cabinet as he searches the crevices for something.
"So, you're just nuts... Great, my only genuine friend... Lost to weird media," letting out a sigh, you plop back down on the counter in defeat.
Maybe you really weren't salvageable... First the weird spiraling, and now this strange program.
"Aha! Found it! Here, just give it a try [Name]... I'm sure it won't hurt you! You could really use a friend that wasn't a tavern owner you know..." heaving out a pile of papers, throwing them down; a puff of dust erupts. Lambad reaches for the top paper as he passes you it, huffing as he reorganizes the rest somewhere deep in his storage.
"You know, I worry about you lady... Seems like all you've been doing the past couple of months is working your end off for Scribe Alhaitham!-"
"Sh, sh, sh! Stop! Don't! Do not say his name. Oh, so help me Archons-"
At some point during the long arduous navigation to becoming Alhaitham's secretary, a strange phenomenon found itself into your life.
Sadly, every time you or your friends had mentioned the annoyance of a man, it seemed he'd find his way into your conversation one way or another... Almost predictably.
In any case, it made for a horrible superstition that the mere mention of his name could even summon him. Making it almost impossible to carry your normal tangents about the woes you faced. The oh-so-treacherous life of a secretary under a selfish boss.
At your defense, you had learned soon enough to warn your friends of the weird illusion. Finding out that if you could just convince them to omit the use of 'his' nine letter name it would solve his convenient interruptions into your life. Archons, the lengths you would (and have) taken to ignore this mans absolute atrocious presence...
Unfortunately, that never was a foolproof plan.
"Sorry! Sorry! I apologize... Forgot about that weird notion of yours to for a second..." Chuckling nervously, Lambad looks around, leaning in close to whisper,
"He couldn't possibly be around at this hour though... Could he?"
Inching in closer yourself, you murmur;
"I promise you, he's everywhere. It's so creepy... you have no idea!... One time-"
"[Name]? Is that you? Does your shift not start at 9 o'clock on the dot at the Akademiya secretary?"
"Fucking shi-"
Jumping up from your seat, your hand slams violently onto the wooden table (ouch) as you hop haphazardly out of your stool.
Glaring at Lambad, you watch as he sheepishly backs away, happily taking to ignoring your stink eye as he hums over your menacing hate. Forcing you to turnback your attention to the (unfortunately) approaching silver haired man as he strides in full glory.
Alhaitham, the notorious boss.
The man who caused you great distress day and night as he looms over your scholarly papers that he pushed onto you. Taking to taunting you and criticizing your work as he knowingly clocks out at five pm on the dot.
God, even his stride and speech was tantalizing.
It took every flexed stiffened muscle in your body not to revolt and gag on reflex as your eye twitched.
"Oh!... Alhaitham sir!... How- cough- good to see you so early. Yes, I know when my shift starts sir. I was merely grabbing a treat before I went to slave away- I mean, work on the demands the Akademiya higher ups sent in last night." Are you being dramatic, maybe, perhaps even yes, gags ensue.
Perking up a questioning brow, his muscles flex as he pulls down the golden headphones that laid flat over his head. Silky smooth voice clear as he ignores your obvious frustration,
"Right. Well, be sure to come by my- our; office sometime during your shift. I've received peculiar news you may just want to listen to. If you're so willing..."
Everything about him speaks superiority over you, it's almost more irritating that he still insists on calling the office he'd obtain over his promotion "ours".
A small noticing you had gained as you listened to how silky his baritone voice was, projecting across any room in a great demand. A reeling pull that you couldn't let loose from your mind.
It never was clear why he insisted on claiming the office was both his and yours. After all, the large thing of a room was piled head to toe in work addressed to him, letters asking for him and his advice, gifts and bribes designated to partition his favor; not yours.
Shaking off the thought, you nod, knuckles tightened beneath your long robe sleeves as your jaw clenches.
"Right. I'll be sure to come by as soon as I finish my business here, sir."
With that, a small nod flicks his head as he turns, walking pridefully away without a single glance back, closing the door in triumph as you groan.
It haunts you, the way his voice rings through your head and whispers behind your back;
honeyed low, demanding.
...
When you arrive at the infamous office, exactly 10 minutes before your actual clock-in, it barely surprises you to find Alhaitham already refined and sipping on a mug of coffee.
His dreary eyes running over the latest edition of The Steambird as he ignores your entry.
Huffing, your own eyes roll over, used to his lack of acknowledgement as you take to waiting on the soft (oh so warm and comfy) couch in his office.
Puffing the pillow up, you plop exasperated on the inviting seat, making sure to irritate him with your loudness as you reach to grab a novel from the neighboring coffee table.
It takes a couple awkward minutes as you both sit in dissonance silence, both flipping through each others respective readings. A habitual dance that was often played until either you or him in his pride chose to cough artlessly.
This time, after finding his fill of the latest news, Alhaitham's cough rings through the silence. Your momentary peace, broken, as soon as it was obtained...
"Are you done with that novel? Come, we have important matters to work on and I'd rather not waste the rest of today lingering around."
Cold and harsh, you reply in return,
"Just hand over whatever it is you're pushing on me this time, archons, it isn't as if you'll actually work on anything that doesn't benefit your personal goals Alhaitham." A tsk leaves your lips, stomping up and over to his table angrily as you peer over his newspaper.
His irises pool in irritation as the greens of his eyes close, eyelashes following. Narrowing his eyes as he surveys you back, maintaining an unknown feeling between your connection of gaze.
As of late, many mornings were spent with moments such as this, awkward responses, short curt flickering stares of temperate interactions. Alhaitham remarking about some part of your "lack of efficiency" to which you'd reply with a snide off hand remark.
Looking into his eyes, it was almost tempting to leave their chokehold on you, a want to trail your eyes down his sharp jawline, the hallows of his neck, the curves of his muscles and collarbone down to where the black of his shirts fabric tightened, defining their shape.
It felt almost reachable.
Kissable.
An urge to kiss away that silly, vexing, knowing glare of his. The uncouth way he continues to stare, waiting for you to respond first. As if he wasn't the one constantly pushing you to your limit, killing your spirit with his very presence.
What would it take to wipe that cocky morality of his?
A kiss to his jaw? Or maybe right where his soft, supple looking skin meets with the fabric of his tight shirt? Or perhaps even the back of his neck, where you once noticed was covered with equally luscious hair, and wires that connected with his headpiece.
Woah.
Where did that come from? That's not right...
This is Alhaitham, scribe of the Akademiya, your employer.
The man you detested to see each and every day. So where did these sudden fantasizing thoughts come from?
"Tch, here, lately, the Akademiya has been writing to me about the work you have done for them. It seems the work you produce meets with their subpar expectations. Congrats. This is your notice of promotion and details of increased wage. Please, feel free to celebrate this... Achievement elsewhere. After, you have finished your shift."
A letter stamped with the markings of a green wax leaf pulls from the desk, held in the palm of his hand as he continues to stare.
All this time, Alhaitham continues to look into your eyes. Prying at your very heart.
"... Oh, t-thank you sir. I'll be sure to review this..."
Still thinking about that strange string of thoughts you had, relectantly, you grab at the letter. Pausing just short of his extended hand,
"Are you... Toying with me?"
"Huh? Are you so disbelieving that I could have supported this recommendation from the scholars? Do I seem like such a dimwitted employer to you?"
"No! No... You're right, never mind. Thank you Alhaitham... Sir."
His hand is cold as you grab at the letter, electricity shocks through your fingertips as they connected with his.
A tint of warmth tingles through your body, rushing out of his office without a second thought.
Nerves run hyperactive throughout your body as your stand, knees wobbling as your back presses against the large wooden doors.
Letter crumpled into your clammy hands, a strange fuzzy feeling bubbles.
His hands... Seemed inviting. But oh, the way he stared. His eyes, they felt so tender and fond as they glowed, looking at you longingly, or so you could name.
Could visions very well do that to a wielders eyes? Make them glow with an unnerving amount of affection?
Your palms continue to grow sweaty as you try to soothe your pacing heart, pulsing still zapping through every bone in your body. A strange uneasiness clouding your head.
It takes you several minutes stood outside his door, trying to comprehend what the strange fuzziness was, before you opened the letter.
At least, maybe the letter could bring some sense into your clouded judgement.
Indeed, inside of the letter contained faked sugary words as they lined the new contractual rules. A bunch of normal office regulations listing out alongside a congratulations as you finally skip to the bottom, seeing a place to sign. Besides lay the words "Administrative Assistant" bolded and in cursive. The combining of a very, very, long set of numbers attached to the title, issuing your new wage.
Oh, sweet archons, you’re going to be rich.
Letter I: Introductions
Lately, a strange new habit has intruded on his normal life.
He often finds himself thinking a little too long about a certain someone within his life. It frustrates him to no end, considering how much it plagues him and drives him away from pure concentration to get through his workload. Alhaitham ponders the possibility of divine interference, confused as he sips on his mug of coffee.
After watching you leave in a rush just the hour before, it oddly piques him how quick you were to run out after your promotion. Though he knows you hate his guts for some reason or another, a strange tingle tugged at his chest as he had watched you leave. Strangely, he could almost say the feeling was sadness.
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, the sad little feeling bubbling up in his pumping heart as he listened to the sound of your footsteps leaving without a second thought. How annoying.
You should at least have the decency to show your gratitude in front of him, instead of running away like he was the plague. Barely bothering to even smile at him when he had handed you the letter.
But... Your hands did feel nice against his own, a sharp zap of something eliciting through the mere touch you two had shared. He wishes that he could have been brave enough to grab at your hand, that weird tingly feeling of possessiveness as the thought of holding your hand twirled in his mind.
But only for a brief moment.
And there it is again-
Moments like this were bizzare to him, for the past hour he had spent at his desk all he could think about was how your fingertips had grazed his own. An unusual sensation of what could only be described as joy as his mind danced around the idea of your hand in his.
A secondary thought of how confused you had seem peeks through, his eyes closing briefly as he tries to picture your face again. Rolling around the image of your confusion, hearing the saccharine tone of your voice thanking him as you had rushed out.
Was he really such a dreadful boss that a promotion seemed unlikely?
In any case, his eyes remain closed for a little longer, wrinkles adorned across his forehead as he tries to reimagine what he could have done wrong.
It's not as if he was some vile, inconsiderate man.
True, he had used the term 'dimwitted' and perhaps he had been known to be a little sharp tongued in the past. But it was all within sound reasoning. Right? …
Snapping out of his trance, his hand reaches for the tanned papers laid beside his mug. Bolden letters, inked in black, flowery design stretched out as it reads "Penpal Program ! hosted by The Steambird". Reviewing the contents of the column before placing his fingers around a random pen, itching to sign his name on the line. Perhaps taking the time to connect with people outside of simply you would anchor him back into reality. Anything that wasn't the constant cycle of you that replayed in his head.
It was unfortunate to say, but the amount of time he had lost in his work just thinking about what it would be like to spend his days with you really did affect his intellect more than he would like to admit. More unfortunate yet, even his 'friends' had taken notice. The bothersome room mate he housed, Kaveh, had found it amusing to make a game out of guessing what had gotten him so dazed as of late.
If it wasn't for the fact that sometimes, and only sometimes, Kaveh could offer decent advice, perhaps he wouldn't have considered the idea of figuring out one distraction with another... temporary one.
Afterall, why try and understand this vexing emotion when it would mean, he would have to confront you head on. Which sounds incredibly more irksome.
His room mate had been quick to point out this was not sound logic-
Kaveh did suggest, that perhaps Alhaitham could anonymously bring up this issue with a pen pal. A clean slate with no attachment to neither him or you, and could provide reasoning as to why he felt so... Unlike him. It would do him good to have someone to consult with, since, to his annoyance, Kaveh had stated he wasn't one to speak on his truths to anyone else, finding it annoying to deal with people in real life.
In his moment of brief intelligence, Alhaitham remembers him bringing up the mention that journalling and writing letters was a scientifically proven method of narrowing down how one feels. A key part that could help Alhaitham get to the bottom of his trance.
Though it peeved him that the blonde had been right, it was a good idea to journal his thoughts. It was simply a bonus that he would be receiving live feedback. Not that he would need it. Certainly, after taking some time to think it through these symptoms, it would obviously turn out to be he was right, and these feelings of butterflies were absolutely nothing at all.
Yet, fleeting memories of your face flash in his mind. Uncontrollable as he signs his name on the small contract slip below the newspaper. Thinking to himself how enchanting it would be to understand you. To peer into your vast thoughts, wondering if you too, ever contemplated him. Ever noticed him.
.
.
.
After spending nearly an hour ranting on to Lambad about your new promotion and massive paycheck, you find yourself in the establishment again, dwelling over a new dilemma.
Sitting on a stool in the Lambad Tavern once more, the lights flicker softly. Looking outside, the sky envelopes in a dark night. A chill breezing past your ankles as you scribble. The tiny noise of scratches and cups clinkering in the background as you squint your eyes.
Lambad peers over your shoulder, plates and cups alike stacked high on plates as his muscles flex to balance them. Raising a brow he looks curiously at the segment asking for your origins.
'Hello Participant! The SteamBird welcomes you to our new program. As of the new Inazuma border opening, our catalog figured it was time to branch out and bring together the people of Tevyat!
For suspenseful purposes, participants will not be allowed to reveal their true name. Keeping it a secret will be more exciting for both sides, don’t you think?
Below please list: age, gender, place of birth, and address for delivery.’
In your messy handwriting, out laid the letters spelling out the name of the nation of freedom.
"Mondstadt? I didn't realize you weren't native to Sumeru [Name]! Gosh... I have so many memories from sailing to Mondstadt. Tell me, did you move to Sumeru for your academics?"
It had been so long since you had been back to Mondstadt, having lived in Sumeru throughout your teen years, that the habit of writing it for documents was the bare minimum of what was Mondstadt-like.
"Oh! Yes, I did move here for the Akademiya. Actually, I left the nation so long ago I barely even remember what it was like..."
"Really? Well that's mighty interesting! Hey, you should write that on your first letter! I'm sure your pen pal would love to hear about that little journey!"
"Huh, wait. You're right, that is a good idea... Thanks."
Tilting your head, you laze over the blank piece of paper. The newsletter for the sign up stuffed to the side of the bar table as you glare at the letter.
Sigh, and so the writers block.
Existential dread looms over your head as you glare harder at the letter. Maybe, if you stare long enough at the paper it'll write itself.
It takes you eons to adjust, shifting in your seat as you tune out the sound of clinking dishes in the background. Your pen tapping just over the paper in essence as you try to scour for something to start with. In final, you decide on the simple message of hello and a few follow up questions,
'Hello friend! This is your exchange penpal, [alias]!
Nice to meet you. How are you doing? I hope for your sake you're doing well!
As an ice breaker, here's the basics on me, your pen pal. I am originally from Mondstadt, I'm a scholar, and I work tirelessly because my stupid boss thinks he can shove all his "lesser" work on me! Honestly, I moved from Mondstadt a long while ago to pursue a degree under the Haravatat Darshan... But it's been an upward battle ever since I was recommended (well actually, volen-told) to become the second hand for my department. Sorry, you're going to hear a lot about this boss... Unfortunately, he is a pestering constant in my life. Honestly, this would all be fixed if he was just a bit more understanding... Or maybe even used his annoying voice to communicate! It would be great if you had advice on how to get rid of him. Preferably in a corporate fashion, but I don't expect that at all! But enough about my silly world, who are you?
What do you do pen pal? Where are you from? What is your favorite subject to gloss over? Do you also suffer from daily troubles? Do you have any interest in studies or are you more of a physical person? That's totally cool too!
I'm not sure what else to write, but here's a fun fact? Maybe this can be our little thing!
Did you know, the first ever gear was created out of wood? At some point, a nation decided to use it for windmills and waterwheels. Though Tevyatian history doesn't really define where it originated, I've always considered the true contender as my home town! Mondstadt is so full of breezy winds and windmills it would be hard to think otherwise. '
Yours truly, [alias] :)
Adding on between the lines, your fingers release from the pen, stretching out instinctively before folding the letter, all marked with messy, clearly annoyed handwriting, before bringing the lip of the matching envelope to your tongue.
Carefully sliding the letter into casing, you grin with a thumbs up towards Lambad, who watches you in proud fondness. Returning the thumbs up, you skid the chair back, packing your stuff away quickly as you shove both the letter and the promotion letter into your pockets. Without a second glance back, you skip gleefully towards Katheryne's Adventurer's Guild.
Mid way, in all your excitement from finishing the days work, a part of your shoe catches in an uneven part of the road. In a moment, your whole body tilts, sending you crashing down in surprise.
...
You never touched the ground.
But, when you open your closed eyes, wincing for impact, your faced completely upright.
Not a single bruise nor scratch. Completely standing still as if you hadn't almost made a show out of your clumsy self.
"Oh! Are you alright? I hope you aren't hurt!" a small, child-like giggle.
Where is it coming from?
Are you hallucinating?...
Maybe the excitement has gone to your head.
Whipping your head around, you see no one. Not a single soul.
Only the flickering yellow lamps as they illuminate the path in front of you, highlighting the stupid little dent in the road that had almost tripped you.
But still, not a single person, only a faint giggle that echoes in your ear in a whisper.
Strange...
Rubbing your eyes, you shake your head again. Looking around one more time in awe, trying to adjust your eyes in hopes of seeing whoever- whatever- was speaking to you. It takes seconds as you stand still, scanning your surroundings for any little detail.
Nothing but a small green leaf floats around.
Before long, you're scratching at your eyes again, pulling at your ears just to check if you were dreaming.
You weren't, but still, an uneasy nerve sends a shiver down your spine. Urging you quickly to run towards the Adventerer's Guild to submit your letter.
It takes less than a minute to throw your short letter on the pile stacked on the counter. Scurrying off before that creepy child voice comes back and really proves you're crazy.
Stranger yet, the faint image of Alhaitham floats in your head, his blank expression bringing a sort of comforting solace in your head as you mad dash towards your apartment.
LETTER II + III: Personality (or lack thereof?)
When Alhaitham arrives home, the click of the door alerts a certain irritable blonde of his entry. A small tch leaves his lips as Kaveh furiously runs up to him, not a moment to spare between.
"Where have you been?! You took way too long, I almost died of anticipation!"
"Hmph. I was conducting business as usual, you would understand if you knew what it was like to maintain a constant job-"
"Why you! How dare you! You and I both know that I maintain everything in this house day and night!! Oh never mind that- Look, I got the letter for you from that Steambird catalog! Isn't this great?!" His face flushed red from exasperation, Kaveh practically pounces on Alhaitham, flailing the cream envelop, marked with a cute little wax stamp of flowers. Jumping up and down in excitement Kaveh pushes Alhaitham out of the door way. Too impatient to hear his response, instead taking to pushing him down onto the living room coach, shoving the letter into his hands.
"Are you perhaps concussed? It is merely a letter of simple exchange, why exactly are you so impressed Kaveh? Or is it that even bare socialite activities are foreign to you." Sneering playfully, Alhaitham's eyes glint with superiority as he looks at Kaveh, whose leg was practically bouncing in anticipation.
"Just- Why just open it! I want to know all about the unfortunate man-or women, who had to be partnered with you!"
It takes several minutes to settle his room mate down, much to his annoyance. Before ripping the envelope open to read your letter, admittedly, there was a twinge of hopefulness in his heart when the sight of blackened handwriting appeared out of the opening.
...
"Oh, sweet Celestia, they're relatable! And friendly too! Thank goodness for that!" Kaveh sighs in relief, taking the letter out of Alhaitham's hand to read over again at your letter. In his face a smile of childlike wonder as he considered the contents. Somewhere in his mind, he was grateful that the person wasn't some random old man... But rather someone who seemed to relate to his own situation and seemed quite young.
"Wasn't the point of coercing me into this... Silly letter exchange because you wanted me to get to know people and give perspective to my issues? This seems more like your own exchange rather than mine Kaveh." Sighing, Alhaitham yanks back the letter in force, glossing over its contents.
"Huhh?! You are so-... Okay yes- Fine! It was, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy the experience with you. But... Come to think of it, you do need to write a response letter to them. Afterall, they seem friendly enough, and archons forbid you mess up this befriending too because of your pestering cockiness!"
"That is not true- I simply am-"
"Up up up! Shh. I do not trust the likes of you Alhaitham. So, as the most forgiving and kindhearted friend I am, I will help you give them in advice in return! Afterall, an annoying boss is probably not something you can relate to, can you." Snickering to himself, Kaveh quickly whips out a pen and paper, slamming it on the table in triumph.
"It seems like their problems are issues caused by their own neglect of setting boundaries. In fact, I truly believe I could come up with better advice then whatever you may have to offer. It would be so much easier if they would just try to avoid contact with their boss unless necessary."
.
.
.
"I cannot even believe you said that out loud. Never mind, you really do need help."
...
Within two exhausting work nights, an answer comes in the mail. Surprisingly fast for an international event. In anticipation, you rip open the nearly folded envelope, the postal stamp covered, hidden from any snooping. Unfortunately.
‘Hello [alias]. It is a pleasure to meet you.
For the purposes of our little exchange, you may refer to me as “σοφός(Sophós)”. I am not one for small talk, so I’d like to get through these formalities quickly.
As for my current occupation, I am currently an acting... (the hand writing darkens here, almost as if the writer paused to consider before continuing) manager for my workplace. It is rather easy if I may express. Many of the workers that interact with are simple in mind and can for the most part, handle themselves. Leading on, in response to where I am from, I choose to keep that confidential.
After all, did this program not specifically request us to hide or names as to add on to the suspense of interacting with an anonymous person?
It seems you failed to read clearly through the intentions of this program. It is alright however, that is an overlooking on your part which I will look over.
Moving on from this, I particularly enjoy reading long complex books which others cannot understand. I do not hold any preference towards what these novels may contain. However, often I find myself reading on the mechanisms of products more often than others. Privy to your Darshan if I must identify. Reading this, I think you can infer I am someone who enjoys academic knowledge rather than physical prowess. This would be an astute assumption as I am more often than not, researching and accompanied with a piece of literature at all times.
Of all your questions, I did save this for last, as I unfortunately find myself depending on a bit of outside advice. This is much to my own dismay, as I am always a person of rationale.
In the past months, I’ve found a strange phenomenon happening in the region where my heart lies. Whenever I meet with this coworker of mine, just seeing them sends this… Incomprehensible wave of pulses, they are uneven and not the usual beats per minute that my cardiovascular system would sustain.
It is also strange that alongside this symptom, I fail to focus on my perfect nine to five routine. Often, I find myself unwillingly dozing off, abnormal memories haunt me while doing so. Worse yet, these symptoms have also affected my [insert smart word for good brain] as I cannot focus and feel often lightheaded without a sensible pattern of reason why.
Now, it could be that these are physical issues that must be addressed by a professional, but I have reason to believe otherwise. Say [fake name] what is your insight on this dilemma? I would appreciate any thoughts you may have to give.
In appreciation for your counselling as for the spirit of this literary exchange, here is a fact about orthography. Of the undefined origins, researchers have suggested the reason that different nations of Teyvat write from left or right or vice versa could be cause of the material our ancestors once used to write. Example wise, how ink would drip down scrolls, so they needed time to dry. Afterall, our population has always been privy to dextrality. If Inazuman's wrote from right to left, the ink they used would have smudged under their clothes. Thus, leading to the change of writing furthest away to adhere to this problem.
It is a pleasure to work with you,
Signed, σοφός'
Wow, as much as life had taught you not to judge by first impressions, it was quite hard not to.
The letter you had received in turn felt very abnormally. Cocky.
In a way, maybe it bothered you a bit more than it should have, but the way 'Sophós' wrote out their letter reminded you of a someone. So incredibly like someone and yet you couldn't put your finger on it.
The way they wrote though, was nonetheless entertaining, it was almost as if they were a shut in. And though judgement was not one of your mottos, it was honestly kind of cute how they seemed stiffened to write to someone. Honestly, it was surprising how it didn't provoke you. Thinking about it, a sudden realization comes to your head-
Aww- how sweet.
It seems like your pen pal is inexperienced in the world of sociability. they were struggling with romantic feelings. Boy, was it hilariously dense for someone who seemed very smart.
Of course, it had taken you a moment too to realize what their symptoms were. But, for obvious signs of puppy love it felt so amusing to read about the tea. Heh, even the description of it all was so first love coded. To a tea. All covered under the guise of intelligence and yet your pen pal was reallyyy dense.
It doesn't take long before your quick to cozy up on your bed, a book on your lap as a surface to write on, as you click your pen. Looking down as you scrunch your face in concentration, giggling a little inside. (Maybe the interaction was healing a bit of the teenage girl you had burnt out years ago)
'Dear Sophós,
Wow! It sounds like you've got quite the life. Does it ever get boring? I sure wish I could be there in your position... A nice relaxing managerial job would make me feel so much better. Imagine the benefits! Unless of course, your coworkers are horrible and don't cooperate. But yours do so that's awesome!
Anyways, about your- as you said "cardiovascular" problems and memory issues. Fear not! I think you're just suffering under the common ailment of your "first ever crush"! Which is superr (you had made sure to bolden your words with several exclamation marks) cool! It's of course, nothing to be embarrassed about and it's totally normal!
I won't pry, considering this is all you asked for, but this isn't something you need to go to the doctors about! So don't worry. But crushes like yours have drastic differences in symptoms. I'm guessing yours has just begun to develop? Be careful! This illness can take down even some of the strongest! (a joking winking face follows suit)
If you want advice, I'd say just go with the flow! Do whatever you've been doing up to now, but hey, if this person you're crushing on seems to have flushed cheeks, or maybe suspicious behavior towards you to, that could be a sign of shared liking?
That's honestly all I can say... Not really someone who grew up involved in this! Still, a lot of good advice can be found in Inazuman novels! If you really want to move forward with this, read up on some of the weekly top choices for their romance novels!
Best of luck, just remember, consent is always key! Don't pressure whoever it is, give them space, but show your interest in small gestures! Maybe... like doing stuff for them? It's always nice to receive gestures from people :) whether it be gifts or freed up work!
Your awesome wingman, [alias]'
P.S Fontaine's leisurely otters will hold hands when they sleep so they don't drift off from each other! They also sleep on beds of native marine plants like we do on mattresses.
...
'Greetings [alias],
This is a very peculiar variable to reconsider into my life. Indeed, I fail to distinguish if this... Crush is a benefit for me or a burden. Can it be both? What do you think? On one hand, they motivate me to arrive at this hole of a job, but on the other, they seem to distract me from my duties as a manager of sorts. Perhaps, I could utilize these emotions to do otherwise?... I will have to research into this. It peeves me that a person such as I am struggling with these inexplicable feelings. However, now that I have solved the root of my symptoms, I feel as though I can properly move forward and decide from here.
I appreciate your help [alias]. In return, as for your qualms.
Perhaps it would be best to consider that your boss is always going to be a constant. I think it is best to try and not dwell on what you can't fix and instead work on what you can do. For example, refusing to do work outside of the office, perhaps even coming in early to work with other workers to finish the days load.
This is all the advice I could offer, I find it quite difficult to relate to this situation, so I hope this suffices. I know you will be okay, simply try to remain above the average work and get caught up on what you are doing and beyond.
As for a fact, several of the fruits from native nations have been a biproduct of human trading. The revered sweet tangy peaches of Sumeru are actually native to the Liyue region, having been brought over a long time ago.
Much appreciated, σοφός'
Upon receiving the letter, a chuckle escaped your lips. Smiling at the sheer idiocy of the letter, almost dumbfounded at how obviously entrapped your pen pal was with their crush.
Perhaps this program was more interesting than any sort of office life drama.
...
Smiling to yourself at their feigned confidence, it wasn't surprising to you found yourself re-reading the letter you had recieved on the way to the office. (To think a new friend to bother was all it took for you to feel better about yourself)
Maybe staying up late to continuing to write letters back and forth between your pen pal was a stretch, but it did excite you. And the darkening of your eye bags was barely noticeable as your mood brightened by every interaction.
Although it was strange at how quick the mailing was to you still, you had come to terms with the fact that it benefitted you in talking with your new friend.
And of course, you had taken your friends advice very seriously. Out of respect for their help.
Still giddy at the thought of your letters, the clicking of your shoes against the marble rang a warning bell to your coworkers, all at their usual buzz as they stared. Of all mornings, today their whispers seemed even more noticeable to you. All of them murmuring under hushed turned heads about the smile you held walking. A curious comment caught from one conversation to the next, wondering why you were suddenly so cheerful as if your boss wasn't the debby downer Al Haitham.
This time, it didn't bother you at all. Instead, you found yourself even waving at your friendlier coworkers, greeting them happily as if this were a normal morning. Not even the thought of Al Haitham could bring you down from your new friend. The perfect pick me up following your new gigantic paycheck.
Dumbfounded, the gathering Sumerian scholars begin to fade out, returning your warm greetings as they scampered. Better not to ruin your cheery mood they feared. For the past weeks, they had found you abnormally happy, even to meet Alhaitham.
A melody humming from your lips, your fingers fiddle over the corner of the envelope, sealing the precious letter. Finding a giddy joy in a new friend you could console in and gossip with as you march up into Alhaitham's office.
Bursting in, your voice thunders out,
"Hellooo Sumeru! How are you sir? What needs to be done today Alhaitham? Hey,
"Stop. Wait [Name]." Alhaitham stands abruptly from his seat, raising a hand to pause you as you shut up immediately. Eyes widening as you took a deep breath of air.
Almost hesitantly, his hand drops to your shoulder, patting it, weirdly.
(Honestly it felt very nice to have that closure, but he doesn't need to know that)
His hand takes to guiding you to the coach, the one you often found yourself waiting on as he took his time finishing his morning newspaper.
Speaking of which, where was the newspaper? He wasn't laid back in his chair like usually reading it when you walked in, was he?
Plopping you down on the couch oh it's soft AND comfy-
"You... Seem out of it lately. For the past week, I have observed changes in your work behavior."
His voice (but mostly the soft... comfy... cozy couch) really did soothe you away from any argument.
"What is unusual for me is that you have been ahead of even me in our work. Every day I return to this office, I find that another scholar rushes in to give me more paperwork as typically instructed by the higher ups, only to atypically come back within the next day to see all my extra work gone"
Silence rings.
"Rightt...? Well, sorry if it bothered you Hai- Sir. I've been coming in early every morning to finish it. That way I don't have to stay late and you don't have anything to complain- ahem- I mean worry about," a lazy smile spreads across your lips as you drowsily glance up at Alhaitham. (That lack of sleep was hitting now)
His body looms over the back of the coach, broad shoulder bulging a little much as he crosses his arms. Glaring at you with an interested brow.
"Really? Is that so?"
(Something about a man with his muscles and his voice saying that to you did things they shouldn't do)
Every vein across his arms flexed a bit as he shuffled to ask, muscles flexing at every move, defined under the morning light peering from the window behind him. His silver hair reflecting god-like down on you as you continued to lean your head back, pulling into him until he leg was just barely making contact with the back of your head. The bare touch sending a heat towards your head that was utterly suffocating.
Laying like that, you could see the way his Adams apple moved delicately as he breathed, the way his eyes mirrored shades of greens to greys when the shadows moved.
A lazy, serene tension laid thick as thieves between the two of you.
Not uncomfortable you'd like to add, but sweet. As he stared it felt almost as if you could see his eyes shifting. From that stern scolding look, to, as seconds passed; soft, relaxing, worried, a dotting love somewhere in that sea of feigned control.
"Tch. Perhaps it would be wise to consider that work is not a mandatory activity outside of your assigned hours [Name]. Afterall, you just received that promotion bonus, what use is there in overworking yourself more than necessary?"
His voice turns slow, calculating, the same as his eyes when he looks at you, his whole body seemingly turns light as he stares. The way he looks at you now, you could have sworn you had him like honey in your hands.
Carefully, not waiting for your response, he moves to tuck back a piece of your hair that had strayed from the rest.
His fingers again, felt light, but home on your skin as they sent fluttering heat towards everywhere they touched.
Lingering to cup your forehead, and then your cheek, his eyes still watching in absolute infatuation, they fit perfectly against your face. Molding there like they were meant to be.
Gentle, inviting gestures of physical touch.
"As an official assignment as your acting sage, I am asking you to rest here until I return from an errand. Do you understand?"
"Mmm..." It was quite hard to protest when you could barely even find the will to keep your eyes open to look back at him.
Your head drops from it's stretched position, your body snuggling closer into the couch. Your eyes are starting to drift to a close, fluttering shut as his hand combes through your hair. Delicately pulling through where it could and letting go to return to your head. The whole motion setting you up for deep, deep, uncontrollable drowsiness.
By now, the morning sun had risen above Alhaitham's head, it's tender warmth cuddling to you as a blanket of sorts. The whole set up felt almost- no, was perfect for a reenergizing nap.
One that was well deserved you thought..
Blinking in intervals as you felt the warmth of his hands leave briefly.
Quietly, a pressure draws over your lap, maybe a blanket? Who could tell.
His hands return to comb through your hair, still sending their tingling heat throughout your body as you murmured.
"Mmm, sleep well... [Name]"
...
Walking back to his desk, Alhaitham finds a sense of calmness eroding away at his pacing heart.
Just watching you stare up at him, doe like eyes following his hands like butterflies to milkweed. The very sight almost brought him to his knees. For a man made of a steel core, he's never once felt the way he did when you stared at him, looking back at him as if he was the only one in the world.
By gods, you made him feel so alive.
The way his heart raced was unlike anything else he's ever felt. The blood rushing to his head and without thinking, he was already reaching out, caressing your cheek gently with one hand, gripping the back of the chair with his other.
Sinfully, he wasn't sure if he could have handled holding the whole of you in both of his hands in that moment.
Everything about you made him quake in his shoes, his body always felt so light. The scene replays in his head.
The every aching moment he spent, gripping at the back of the chair, careful not to disturb you, thinking how horrible of a man he had.
Where was all his self control now?
All he wanted was to hold you. Grab you by the cheeks, but oh, so carefully, so preciously, because he couldn't ever think of hurting you. Gods no.
In the back of his mind, Alhaitham could only think, in a sliver of his mind, were the archons testing him?
Begging in his core, the very urge to kiss you. Shower you in affection, hold you so dearly in his arms as he would feel you melt into him.
You were just so... Much.
The most he ever wanted.
Looking down at his desk, he grabs at the torn open letter, on top, a pinned checklist. Vaguely, the makings of your handwriting lay on top of the smooth paper.
Except, stapled to it, a checklist, small but noticeable in a light green color, written out in his writing.
How to win her over:
-Be consensual, but always remember consent
-Do stuff for her (Possibly lighten her workload?... She has been doing much as of late.)
-Read more romance novels. (A lot of this male love interests seem to give things with meaning, flower language and such. Perhaps a bouquet? Would she even like that?)
Staring at his checklist, he promptly scratched out the third item of the list. A flushing pink spreading throughout his body, palms unusually sweaty as he could feel his body heating up.
Gods, he was smitten. And it was all your fault.
Stuffing the checklist and letter into his pockets, he found himself stomping out, embarrassed at his flushed face. He'd be sure to not meet Kaveh on the way out, the architect would simply make a whole parade of it.
Stumbling out of his office, he miraculously found it in him to resume his stoic face, carefully closing the door as to not wake you.
He looks back one more time as the image of you floats in his head. This time, it comes with a smile.
...
The House of Daena remains to be the sole place Alhaitham finds enjoyable.
Having just walked out, a stack of book carries between his arms, light in his grasps. Before he could rush back to the office however, he finds a blonde (thankfully not Kaveh), a fairy, and Nahida, walking towards him.
"Alhaitham! Hello! How is the Acting Grand Sage doing? Wowee! It's been a while since we've seen you! What'cha up too?"
The voice of the floating little Paimon rapidly approuches, following behind the traveler waves, quiet as ever.
Tailing behind, Lesser Lord Kusanali follows, bumbling with a sweet smile as always.
"Hello Paimon, Traveller, Lesser Lord Kusanali I am more than well thank you. I was on my way back to the office actually. Coincidently, I am not off of work yet as it is still within my work hours. I was simply checking out books for... a coworker." Shifting to his side, he hides the title of his novels pressed to his leg. Carefully trying to keep hidden the titles and clear images of light colors, pictures of illustrated fictional characters holding each other. The titles even more evidence that they were in fact romance novels.
"That sounds wonderful! But please, we're long time friends now! You don't have to call me Lesser Lord. It feels... Well, ehe, unusual for what we've gone through"
"Paimon agrees, you don't have to worry about formalities like that Alhaitham!" Paimon laughs.
"We're all friends here aren't we? Your too stiff sometimes hehe... But! Anyways, those books look interesting. What are they about?" Peeps Nahida, her cheery tone matching exactly the way she looked, Alhaitham thought. Cheery, bright, and decorated with various Sumerian leaves.
His breath hitches, "Hmm. They aren't anything of interest. In fact, they're quite confidential for their intended purposes. Actually, I really must get these back to my coworker."
"Aww... Really? Darn! Well, since you're on your way back to the office, why don't the three of us all come down there with you? It'll be fun to catch up on your life Alhaitham! Maybe we can even say hi to Kaveh on the way!"
A breath of exhaust leaves his lips.
"We won't bother you too much! It would be so very interesting to see what you do Alhaitham" Nahida's voice pops in, traveller nodding along as the two press on. All three of them pushing into him, eyes glowing in curiosity. (Would it be a divine offense to reject a gods request?... Tempting.)
"Prettyy please? Oh grand acting sage sir?"
It seems his work evening would be lasting longer than he assumed. It also didn't seem like the three of them would give in anytime soon. Rather than later, he'd appreciate getting back to you before you woke up and started working again before he could say no.
Out of all his options, unfortunately, it seemed he would have to bring the lot with him.
"Huff, fine. But you have no need to call me grand acting sage. And do be mindful and quiet when you enter. I have a guest in my office who I urgently must tend too."
Before Paimon could open her mouth, Alhaitham made sure to turn quick on his heels and start speed walking towards his office. But even that was not enough to stop Paimon from asking questions of the guest, who it was, and if they were important to him or not.
The poor traveler had to keep holding Paimon back, threatening to eat her as dinner if she didn't hush up.
...
When you woke up, your body well rested, an eerie feeling followed suit.
"Holy shit."
Almost immediately after gaining full conscious, all of what had happened replayed in your mind. Painfully tracing over every single detail.
The way his hands had caressed your face.
Oh, great archons be damned.
Your fingers ran through your hair, pulling at it as you squealed into the nearest pillow. Absolute regret pulsing through your head as you remember how soft he had held you just hours before. Almost choking you in a burning heat that blew up in your face. Over and over you re-imagine it. Tenderly touching your own fingers to the places, he had caressed, longing for strange closeness again.
Footsteps gradually approach the grand doors.
"Shh... Please be wary of your voices. My secretary is asleep in my office as of currently."
The familiar deep voice of Alhaitham's rings out behind the door, muffled but still audible to your ears. The heat burns as fast as your heart's beat.
"Are we bothering them? We can always leave Alhaitham..."
A voice, deeper in tone, yet not one you remember, speaks up. Right as the door creaks open and Alhaitham peers in cautiously. Eyes narrowing in on you.
His stare stills you cold.
"Ah... It appears that she's already woken up. Never mind then, it'll be fine Traveler, come on in you all."
By the sound of his voice, and the slight twitch of his lips, you couldn't tell if he was bothered by the company or if he was enjoying himself.
It was a bit of place, watching as a young blonde man, hair beautifully braided back and adorned with simple clothes walked in, a nervous tap to his steps. Following suit... A very bouncy fairy? And a young girl? Adorably, she pokes her head first by the crack of the door, before seeing you and smiling brightly, feeling confident enough to skip in.
What strange company for Alhaitham.
Admittedly, you never once thought to dwell in Alhaitham's personal relationships. You were always so busy finding him hateful and prude to notice if he had any actual connections with people aside from you and the workplace. It was quite the sight to see his assumed friends to be two younger children and a foreigner by the looks of it.
Alhaitham motions for the guests to take a seat on the opposing sides of you. Finding his way over to sit beside the man he called 'Traveler'.
A bit of your heart drops.
The whole couch was empty except for you, the couch he was sitting on with the Traveler was even more cramped then if he had sat with you.
(It's nothing, right? Immature noticing's is all)
"Well, Traveler, Paimon, Lesser Lord- ahem, Nahida, I suppose I should introduce you to my second hand, this is [Name]. An employee personally appointed by the Haravatat Darshan. They have... cough, well, been a great help to me."
"Oooh! Hello [Name]! Wow... Paimon's never heard Alhaitham compliment anyone before! You must be some sort of superhero! Paimon is pleased to meet you!" It takes only a blink for the squeaky fairy to get up in your face, zooming circles around your head as she studies your face curiously, a finger at her lip as she looks.
"I um- Thank you! I try my best really... It's a pleasure to meet you too Paimon. As for you Traveler! Are you the same Traveler everyone else has been gossiping about? Wow... It must be really tiring to travel around the nation like you do!"
"Oh, you don't need to flatter. Thank you, I try. I'm sure you must do a great amount to for Alhaitham. He is well... A very studious worker" Traveler nods, smiling as he turns to Alhaitham. The two sharing a secretive look.
Moments pass on, light conversation flowing between the five of you. The traveler and his friend bombarding you about all that you do. Wondering about your interests in mechanics, curious of your life's story.
Occasionally, the sweet young girl Nahida would butt in, asking about your thoughts the more obscure matters of the latest mechanical developments. 'What do you think of transversal waves Ms. [Name]? Have you ever thought about applying them too...'
It surprised you how knowledgeable she was about mechanical waves and even beyond. Deep, thoughtful theories passing between you and her, a common connection you found, was that she often wondered about the makings of mechanical wears.
It was nice, pleasant to feel welcomed after the momentary bitterness you felt. (It still lingered, but you found yourself dismissing it as childish.)
Alhaitham and Traveler seemed well content talking amoungst themselves of... Adventures. Something you never once knew about Alhaitham. Never would you have thought he was a man of travelling. Though it was common for Akademiya students to be well-rounded in every field, it left you a bit hollow that this fact had been hidden from you.
As the hour passed, it only grew. The silly backhanded thoughts in your mind. 'Who are they talking about?'.
'I've never knew his break from work was because of the Traveler...'
'Why is it so easy for them to talk to eachother?'
It was hard for you to wrap your head around their conversation. Passing phrases like foreign language to you. How was it they seemed smarter then you? Why did it seem they had known each other forever? What was it about their allure that made them so easy to feel frustrated for?
By the closing second, as much as you tried to listen to Nahida's remarks you could barely stop the way your eyes unwillingly travelled back to the way the two sat with each other. The pressed down cushions beneath them caving in, pushing their bodies towards eachother.
They seemed to know everything about him. More than you had ever gotten to ask him about.
They knew about what he did in his free time... The things he hated. The books he reads. Especially the studies he liked talking about.
Why does your stomach feel funny?
Your heart just minutes ago was beating far past its average rate, but watching the way Traveler and Alhaitham sat close had dropped it to a cold, fearful low.
An awkward silence passes between the room, your eyes to busy fixating on the way Alhaitham didn't bother to scoot away from the unnerving touch of bare fingertips.
Suddenly it feels a little too real all over again.
You knew this feeling.
The dead pit way your stomach felt empty. The way your head felt numb, the way your heart stung. A dark, selfish, want bubbling in the place you held Alhaitham dear.
Being from a school of top-academics, it was expected from all the students to feel the inevitable complex about each other.
The one they labelled the "inferiority complex". A hidden part of the system everyone ignored. A deep, pushed down hatred the scholars would often feel.
As successful as your life had been academically, never once had you learned how to deal with it.
The drowning thoughts that took over, telling you that everything you ever strived for wasn't enough.
There are smarter people.
A breath sucks through your teeth.
.
There are people with more awards.
You breath it back out.
.
There are people who have gotten visions, divined and noticed by gods.
Your mind fuzzes.
.
There are people, who are simply just better.
The air feels cold.
.
.
.
In truth, it was never explained to you how to defeat this dragon. This terrifying beast that told you things you knew somewhere in there was wrong.
Your worth shouldn't be compared to different situations.
You knew better.
Your worth isn't determined by the quality of your work.
You wanted to believe.
But every striving student feels the pain of being casted aside. Outshined by another child's brilliance. Their more outstanding grades, their more outstanding test scores, their more outstanding glow.
The Akademiya was no place for the weak minded. Not when there was so much to accomplish and so much more to prove. When put in a palace of the talent, you felt talentless. But it was never like it wasn't your only struggle.
Other problems came along, and they fought with you, and they tugged at your heartstring and your mind, but in the end, your value in comparison, your life, and your inferiority were the one thing that stayed constant.
Maybe that was why, when he had shown up in your life for the first time, you found your aged wine, mulled with the crushed fruits bared from your nights of overwork, from what ifs, poured on top of his silky grey hair. Until it eventually soaked him, and all you could do was take of your shoes. Stepping over those same fruits, working over and over, day and night, crushing the new wine, all to pour back on his head.
And yet he still outshined your efforts.
Sitting on top of his throne of amaryllis. Glowing in color, brightening his everlasting superiority.
And yet your dry, mulled fruits, remained sad in color.
Comparison.
A part of you remembers when he had first walked into your life. A blooming young student you were, always outdoing the rest. Your every waking hour was spent on wishing for the wonderful, for true greatness. Ingenius discoveries and more.
But the moment he had taken your seat upon the throne, the fruits below had dimmed in color.
Yes, Alhaitham had always been as glorious as he was now.
Everlasting genius he was. He sparked a flame in you to improve, to be better, to never fall behind.
But never once had he taken a notice to you.
Never once had you found him talking to you.
Instead, the months would pass by, and you would never once catch up again.
Every, single, class and award, he took rightfully his.
Stone cold face peering down at the shining medallions, a scoff upon his perfectly smooth and youthful face, before walking off stage, leaving you to take the ranks of fourth or fifth.
No matter what you did, he never did realize you were a competitor.
Never once did he even congratulate you, even at graduation, when the two of you stood side by side in class photo.
.
.
.
Maybe that's why when you had finally secured the job working for the Grand Sage, you were overjoyed. Even if it wasn't what you had imagined, you had finally made it a step closer to his pedestal.
But when you had introduced yourself, a sunny naive smile dotted on your face, he gave you the same disgusted face he had always given you.
His voice only came in demands from there on.
He didn't remember you. Not at all.
No, he chose to forget you.
...
It had taken you months for him to even remotely warm up to you, and longer days yet for him to talk about himself with you. At some point, the effort became nauseating.
You couldn't stand to even mutter his name.
So perhaps the Traveler was a better person than you were. A smarter person than you. Maybe they were in league with Alhaitham from the very beginning. Maybe to him, he thought the Traveller as someone of his level. A worthy ruler to sit beside his pedestal.
The feeling boils deeper, that sickening feeling of jealousy produced by those fruits of your younger years you had so desperately tried to hide.
(A tear threatens to trickle.)
"Ah... [Name]? Are you alright? You seem out of it right now. Do you feel tired again?" The Traveler notices the shift in your eyes. Your face having dropped a while ago, staring into nothingness.
.
.
.
"Ms. [Name]?..." The green in Nahida's eyes swirl a bit, a nervous worry across her face now, noticing you aren't responding.
"Oh. Sorry. It seems I'm not feeling too well right now Traveller, Nahida. I'm sorry, but it seems like I must leave for the night. It is after my workhours anyhow..." your voice sounds meek in comparison to the Travelers.
"Oh no... That's no good. Would you like one of us to walk you home? Maybe Alhaitham?" Nahida suggests. Oh, bless her sweet heart.
"That... Would not be very professional Nahida. If it is alright, there are matters I must discuss with the Traveler in private."
Again, you notice how there's a glint of catching eyes between the two men.
"Oh, but Paimon doesn't think [Name] should go home this late at night by herself! We spent so long talking it's near night already."
Your gut sinks a little more, embarrassment flooding through your system, "It's fine guys. I can go by myself! My home is just a walks away."
"It's okay! I can go with you [Name]! There is something I'd like to talk to you about too!" Nahida peeps up. Looking at her smile, something about her careful gaze felt almost motherly.
Quite comforting even.
"... Thank you Nahida. Sure, why not." There is no will in you to argue.
After short good byes, you leave, breath hitched as you fight the urge to look back at his silver eyes.
Your sure they must have looked beautiful, as they always had.
...
That night, after plopping down on the couch and thanking Nahida profusely, she thanks you, stating something odd,
"I hope you sleep well [Name]. You seemed troubled earlier. May the Archons watch over you."
Barely enough energy to spare, you find yoursef on the hard wooden floors. Chilling to the touch, but most welcomed compared to the humid weather.
That night, strange memories form dreams, merciless as they plague you.
Flashes of memories of you and Alhaitham, back from the Akademiya days switch from one to the next. Almost in parallel, you'd remember one scene, before a flash of change, to the perspective of someone else.
It was like you were watching yourself from your perspective to an outsiders.
And every time, without a fail, the change would take away Alhaitham. Instead, the outsider would murmur in frustration, low in tone, things you could barely make out. But a longing, desperate feeling, unlike the one you had felt away, would find its way back to the outsider, every time they would look at you.
It was weird.
When you woke, you could barely remember what the strange person narrating was saying. Still, the sun shines, commencing another day of work.
LETTER IV: Ghosting
By the time you arrive at the office, it is still night. The sun barely peeking past the horizon.
Your in no mood to work however. Instead, you take out the crumpled letter paper, rummaging for a pen, and sit down, writing out your thoughts.
'Dear Sophós,
I'd hate to cut welcomes short, I hope as always you are doing well, but I urgently need help.
Do you remember the boss I had talked to you about?
Well, it's been long since he's rude and terrible behavior. It's actually miraculous. Out of nowhere he has been acting all nice and well mannered! Even though it was off putting at first since well... He's never done that ever. It was very sweet and nice. (you pen out a cute drawing of rainbows and sunshine to emphasize). But... Another issue has started.
I feel weird around him.
Not just him specifically, but, when he was meeting a friend, this long standing issue I've had came back.
I started feeling all these horribly sickening emotions. Jealousy is what it was. Just from watching how close the two were. They acted as if they had known each other for years Sophós... Something about it really hurt me to watch. And they talked to each other so easily too! Do you know how frustrating that is? I had wished for that type of bare closeness with him for so long, but for this friend of his, it seemed so easy. So Sophós I really beg, how do I fix this? I know for sure it was caused from something, but I can't pinpoint what from...
I know that I have felt it before, back in my Akademiya days, when often the other students would outshine me in my craft, so I know for a fact it isn't romantic possessiveness, but still, the feeling isn't the exact same and I don't understand why it's happening.
Can you help me pen pal?
It's bothering me that such trivial baby feelings are getting to me. I feel lost. Am I jealous because of their friendship? Or is it that maybe I think that friend of my boss's is far superior to me?
With immediacy, [alias]'
...
For days, you couldn't find it in you to confront Alhaitham. You knew for sure he wouldn't have known what he did wrong, but the thought of how he had been so trusting of the Traveler compared to felt to frustrating to confront.
You knew it was childish. But for days you ignored him.
Your own boss, who you had finally learned to enjoy company with, was now back to be strangers with you.
Worse, every day you would find yourself desperately checking the mail, wondering where Sophós response was.
Your only friend outside of your chaotic worklife, out of nowhere, had suddenly disappeared the moment you needed them the most.
Now you were only more frustrated. Spending days trying to ignore your boss and also waiting for your friends response had taken to much of your valuable time.
An aching anxiety stayed conjuring in your body.
Surely your penpal hadn't already gotten tired of you right?
You couldn't trust yourself to make reasonable decisions without them. You had never taken the time to understand your emotions throughout your schooling, and so maybe you were too dependent on Sophós to advise you.
Still you waited. Spending every waking hour of the job, waiting desperately for help from your friend while nervously dancing around the building, hiding from Alhaitham's calls of your name.
...
Alhaitham hasn't seen your face in days.
He's started to worry a long time ago. And the guilt eats him alive.
That night, he had rejected to walk you home as he needed to ask Traveler, despite his ego, what to do about his feelings.
When Nahida had come back to see the Traveler and Paimon as well, he had further buried his high head to ask for help from the archon.
It took him everything to cover his flushed face, bright red as the annoying high-pitched fairy had floated close to his face, asking all sorts of questions about his interest in you. Clearly surprised as if he couldn't hold sentimental connections.
Tch, the nerve of them.
The following weeks though, it seemed you had taken it the wrong way. Moments, he would find you across the hall, having chocolates or flowers he had plucked stuffed in his pocket, wanting to sneak them to you, only for you to run away.
What annoyed him more was, by the second week, it was 100% clear and noticeable to the whole office he was being ghosted by his assistant.
It took him days on end to search for even the slightest sliver of your hair, only for you to find some convenient place to hide. For the life of him, he couldn't understand why you were upset with him.
It had even become noticeable to Kaveh.
By the Friday of the second week Kaveh had appeared at the office, under the guise of some Architectual project to yell at him again.
"You've forgotten your headphones twice now Alhaitham! What is the matter with you lately? By Archons Alhaitham we have mail piling up at home and I'm pretty sure your pen pal is waiting on a response right now!"
"Keep it down won't you. Listen, I have better issues to attend to of late. There are far more important priorities than the pen pal thing." He scoffs in annoyance, looking back down at his checklist and then to the stack of paperwork he had been putting aside.
Trying to find you in the massive building turned out to backfire, spending most of his time occupied by you had put him behind on work he could care less about. What worried him was that you had called in sick that morning. Something that had never happened even once in his term of office.
"Is that... Late papers?!... You-" Kaveh points dramatically, "have missing papers? Now there really is something wrong. Spill it. Now. I have to know what's been throwing off the almighty Alhaitham."
"I can practically hear the sneer dripping off your sentence Kaveh. Don't get too excited. It's just... Well. [Name] has been gone for the past days." His eyes flutter to anywhere else but the obviously dramatic jaw drop Kaveh had on.
"[Name]? Your assistant? Uh oh. What did you do this time? I knew it... You annoyed them to death with your attitude!"
"No- Before you continue, it was not because of me. At least, I don't believe so." His words trail off in doubt, feeling wrong even to him.
"Before you continue yelling in my ear, it happened to be I may have... Made her angry. But I don't know by doing what."
"Well then you've got to figure it out!... I'm tired of having to walk from here and back for the stuff you forgot. It's getting on my nerves! Tell me about the day before she started ignoring you, maybe that'll help your dense head."
...
Upon recounting everything to Kaveh, Alhaitham's guilt had only worsened.
It was not a feeling he was enjoying.
"She obviously was taking the hint you liked her! And then you up and left her to walk herself back?! What is wrong with you?!"
"I- I was talking to the Traveler about her. I would have never thought she could have been jealous from that..."
"Well, she clearly was! If anything, she probably thought, he was competition! You have to go fix this. Now."
"Kaveh, have you not retained any of the information I've given you. I have been trying, but she ignores my attempts to consolidate."
"Well... That sounds like a you problem! You need to figure it out. Maybe even arrange a date and finally confess like a man Alhaitham!"
The bickering between the two of them lasts for an hour before Kaveh stomps angrily out. A semi-conclusion reached as he yells for Alhaitham to get his act together.
"She likes you Alhaitham! So, get your crap together and tell her you feel the same!"
By the time the blonde's angry footsteps stop ringing across the floor Alhaitham feels the stress overflooding all over again.
For a man who prides himself in remaining calm always, even he couldn't cool himself down from the sheer embarrassment at his lack of romantic realization.
You liked him.
And the thought made him an absolute mess.
His long fingers crunch around the nearest paper, the other hand folding over the bottom of his face, desperate to cover his bright rosy cheek. Uncharacteristically, he feels nervous.
Memories of your face that day floods into his head again. Dizzying him only further.
How unfortunately timed.
It takes him minutes to calm down, trying to shake your pretty face out of his mind.
When it does finally happen, and he feels like he can breath again, his stoic face returns, letting go of the sad papers he had crumpled.
The checklist, still stapled to the letter you wrote, and a managerial essay you had written after surveying a project, all crushed together.
Looking closer, Alhaitham notices the little pictograms between each other line. Both on the professional paper and on the personal letter.
His brow raises, pulling the two items closer, he looks carefully at the writing. Looking at the way their addressed to him. The specific way that both show off similarities. The hand drawn emojis, the tilt in your letters, and the way your mannerisms showed in both of the papers.
Suddenly, he finds himself rushing out of his office, running towards your address. The street number coincidently returning to his memory from the very first day you had applied to be his second hand.
LETTER: INTERCEPTED
Gloom had taken over your body.
The longer you spent moping over yourself, the more you felt pathetic and childish for even believing your friend and most (newly) trusted advisor would remain forever.
Entertaining the wild possibility, you liked Alhaitham and that had caused all your pent-up jealousy wasn't even worth thinking about now.
Tissues now stuffed your trash, several scrapped up papers detailing letters to Sophós laid crumpled up and piled on the dining table. The pen long lost somewhere in the ground as you slumped over the couch.
Wasn't love supposed to be beautiful? The fabled spell uplifted you and made you feel powerful?
So why was it yours felt so different?
For the past weeks you've felt a dry spell in motivation. A drought you've never experienced before, all to be replaced by loneliness. Your own pride eating you up inside as the thought of having apologize for your 'unprofessional behavior' felt like it would simply add on to your despair. Before you can continue sobbing to yourself, thinking about how far you had gone in life just to reach this point-
The doorbell rings.
You stay quiet. Praying that whoever it was would go away.
"[Name]... I can tell you are in there. Your usual shoes are still out here. I- Well, I wanted to talk about what has been going on."
The soothing sound of his voice brought you almost back to frustrated tears. As much as you missed him, a piece of you feels confused.
Still, you walk towards the door, the way you look like a sopping wet cat be damned.
When you open it, carefully, hesitantly, his eyes lock with yours. Just as they always have.
Naturally. Adoringly.
"Would it be wrong to ask if I may come in?"
Your voice seems to lose itself somewhere in the midst of it. Watching the way the sun shines behind his towering body, just as always, showcasing his presence over you.
You shake your head, opening the door wider to let him in. Parts of your head still screaming at you to keep your pride.
For the first time in a long while, you shut down the little girl who learned to be a prideful scholar.
...
An hour goes by, and then a second.
Alhaitham's sittin on the other side of the couch, still the one you are on, but far enough away to give you space to curl up in your blanket. Soft as it pretends to be your shield.
With a deep breath. You speak first.
"I'm sorry."
From there, it all spills.
And gods, as flawed as he was, Alhaitham could tell you needed to let it out.
He sat there so patiently, maintaining that fierce eye contact that sent your legs limb as you explained every little detail. Afraid of any miscommunication killing what the two of you had left.
Minute after minute you explain how you had always had a complex over how you compared yourself. Talking out about how you had met him, how he had changed your perspective. How at first you hated him and now... Well. It sort of spilled somewhere in the mix. In some part of the whole messy confession, you had started crying, uncontrollable heart wretched sobs as you apologized profusely over and over. Scared for what he might do, fire you maybe? You wouldn't blame him. If anything, you deserved it for your behavior.
Still he waits. His eyes watch you carefully, watching the tears trickle down your face. The way your cheeks and nose turn red with scratches as you swipe away at the hot tears, stinging at your face.
In the midst of it all, Alhaitham finds himself reaching for the box of tissues placed on your table, handing you several as he sits back down waiting patiently for you to finish your sobbing.
It takes another hour to explain.
He doesn't interrupt at all in that hour. No comforting words, no consoling gestures. Instead he continues to sit, continuing to watch tentatively, which only brings you to tears again as you feel horribly guilty for keeping him waiting.
When there are no more tears to cry, you find that you're met with pure silence.
.
.
.
Then it becomes his turn to explain.
Fear returns when he lifts out the papers, showing them to you as he explains. Scooting in closer to your fetal body as he finds himself wanting to hold you.
In him, a rage boils over, to him, it's disgust. Not a hatred for you, but to him. He feels like he has failed you. For someone who claimed to love you, he certainly had not expressed clearly that he did. And so he continues to explain, taking time to watch how you react. Which, at this point, was barely anything.
Your eyes are swollen from crying and apologizing. He takes care to notice the way your throat seems to have swollen, the way you nod slowly to ensure he knows you're listening.
"I am sorry [Name]. I... Should have consolidated with you instead of being a coward. I was foolish in taking to a pen pal program instead of talking to the real person I cherished- No. The person I love."
Again, he finds himself dropping all the papers. Turning to you. Lifting up your swollen cheeks with both his hands.
"I am sorry."
Your eyes threaten to tear up again, a twitch of your nose as you sniffle. You look at him, facing him as he was, and suddenly, it feels safe again.
The burden of your guilt lifts a little, and though you don't have the voice to say, you launch forward, hugging him tightly.
He feels warm this way.
His hands drifting down to around your waist. Their almost... Oddly placed. As if he isn't sure where to hold you.
So, you wrap your arms around his upper back, squeezing him gently as you sniffle into his shirt. The faint smell of books wafting from his clothes. In you, a chuckle escapes, finding the strange scent comforting.
He copies the way you hold him. Taking to brush through your hair again. Detangling the long worn locks as he combs through, gently, lovingly.
He takes to laying his back against the couch's arm. Guiding you with as you lay on his chest. Staring up at the barren ceiling.
His hands continue to comb through your hair, stopping every now and then to pat it all back down from friction. His chest rising and slowly back down as you lie.
Slowly, you find yourself breathing alongside him, an occasional hiccup as the two of you lay quietly. Thinking about who knows what, but grateful the same.
He still smells like books, but you notice, a hint of woodland. Then, you notice how his fingers were long and nimble, combing through long sections of your hair with breeze. But the way he felt, lying underneath you, not a word to say more, felt domestic.
It made you feel alive again. It made you feel worth it.
He loved you.
He had said.
And you loved him.
Ever so tenderly, he turns your head up to him, your eyes finding each other's as they always did, so naturally, so full of love and a softness you had now come to realize had always been there.
He lifts your face, turning it slightly as his eyes wander over all it's beauty. Archons, to him, you were beautiful.
To him, you were everything he needed.
He doesn't think before it happens.
Kissing you.
Lips touching, just and warm and loving as his gaze on you. Sweet, brief.
He holds on, just a bit longer. Biting at your longer lip, nibbling. Pushing in, you return the favor. the taste of iron between the two of you. His arms snaking up behind your shoulders, pulling you down desperately as your legs turn into him, find their way around his hips. Desperately, you let loose for air.
"I love you." He says.
With a new found confidence, your heart beats faster. A grin on your lips as you mouth the same back.
Your lips find their way to his neck.
A groan leaves his mouth.
His legs reel up, hands pulling at your neck.
MEMORY OF AN ARCHON: Finale (will be posted within a day)
BARISTA'S INQUIREMENT... hey guys!! merry christmas/happy holidays. I know I've been promising this one for a while and I had originally planned for more Christmassy content but... Life happens. I found myself revising and rushing at the end to post but I do hope everyone enjoys <3, there are a bunch of little secret messages/meanings I hid in here for interpretation! (my inbox is always open for speculation, questions,and discussion about fics!! )
⤷ info: diluc, wanderer x gn! reader (separate) || fluff and hurt/comfort || wc: 1564 (total)
⤷ warnings: oblivious reader (and diluc himself tbh), wanderer is,,, himself? brief mentions of reader being hurt but not too many details. half the time i write for genshin i dont care to match flower names into canon ones, this is one of those times and you guys just need to deal with it/lh wanderer's part is shorter bc i didn't know how to continue it.
⤷ extra: This is my gift to @daosies for @2024gisecretsanta 's secret santa event! Hope these are okay, haha i was gonna post this on christmas morning but i got impatient.
diluc.
The warm hues of the Mondstadt sunset cast a golden glow over the familiar stretch of rolling vineyards. You sat cross-legged under the towering oak tree by the edge of the Dawn Winery estate, twirling a small daisy between your fingers. Diluc sat a little distance away, leaning back against the bark of the tree. The setting sun framed his fiery red hair like an ember glowing in the dusk, and his sharp, focused eyes stared out at the horizon.
“You’re quiet today,” you said, breaking the silence.
He hummed in acknowledgment, tilting his head slightly to look at you. “Just thinking.”
“You always say that,” you teased, tossing the daisy at him. It landed on his lap, and he looked down at it with the faintest smile.
“Because it’s true,” he replied, lifting the flower and twirling it between his fingers the way you had been moments ago.
You shifted to lie back on the grass, staring up at the sky now painted in shades of pink and orange. “What’s got you so deep in thought?”
There was a pause, long enough that you almost thought he wouldn’t answer.
“...You,” he admitted softly.
You turned your head sharply to look at him, heart skipping a beat. “What about me?”
Diluc avoided your gaze, looking at the daisy instead as if it held all the answers. His usually confident demeanor faltered, replaced with an unfamiliar shyness.
“Just… how long we’ve been friends,” he said after a moment, his voice measured. “How much you’ve always been there.”
“Of course,” you said, trying to sound casual despite the sudden flutter in your chest. “That’s what friends are for.”
Friends. The word hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meanings. You wanted to say more, to ask if he ever thought about you the way you thought about him. But instead, you sat up and plucked another flower from the ground, holding it out to him with a playful smile.
“Here, another daisy for your collection,” you said, trying to lighten the mood.
He took it, his fingers brushing against yours for a fleeting moment that made your pulse quicken. “You’re strange sometimes, you know that?”
“You’re the one keeping them,” you shot back, grinning.
“I only keep what’s worth keeping,” he replied, his voice soft but steady, his crimson eyes locking onto yours.
The weight of his gaze made your teasing smile falter. For a moment, it felt like the world had gone still—no rustling leaves, no distant chirping of birds, just the two of you under the fading light.
“Diluc…” you began, but you didn’t know how to finish.
He looked away first, his ears tinged red. “It’s getting late. I should walk you home.”
Your heart sank at the abrupt shift, but you nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”
As the two of you walked back toward Mondstadt, the silence was comfortable, yet filled with the words neither of you dared to say. You stole glances at him, wondering if he could hear the rapid thrum of your heart.
And as Diluc walked beside you, his hand brushing against yours ever so slightly, he wondered the same thing.
Days turned into weeks, and the memory of that sunset evening lingered like a half-forgotten dream. Every shared glance with Diluc made your heart race, every accidental brush of his hand left you aching for more, but neither of you said anything.
You told yourself it was for the best. What if he didn’t feel the same? What if confessing ruined the years of friendship you cherished so much?
But your heart had other plans.
It was another quiet evening at the Dawn Winery, this time in the cozy warmth of the study. The crackling of the fireplace filled the room, casting dancing shadows on the walls. You sat in the armchair across from Diluc, clutching a cup of tea he had prepared.
“I’m surprised you had time for this,” you said, trying to keep your voice light. “Doesn’t Master Diluc always have work to do?”
He glanced at you over the rim of his cup, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I can make time for important things.”
You nearly choked on your tea, heart skipping a beat. Was that a compliment? Did he mean you? Shaking your head, you forced yourself to focus on the fire instead of his piercing crimson eyes.
But the moment wouldn’t let you go.
“Diluc,” you said softly, almost without thinking.
He hummed in response, setting his cup down. “What is it?”
Your grip tightened on the porcelain, and the words tumbled out before you could stop them. “I think I love you.”
The weight of your confession crashed into you like a thunderclap. Your eyes widened in panic, your breath catching in your throat as you realized what you’d just said.
“I-I mean—forget I said that!” you stammered, setting the cup down hastily and waving your hands as though you could physically take the words back. “I didn’t mean it, or—no, I did, but not like that, or maybe I did—Oh Archons, just forget it! Please, forget it!”
Diluc blinked, stunned for a moment. Then, to your utter shock, a soft chuckle escaped his lips.
“Why are you laughing?!” you exclaimed, burying your face in your hands.
“I’m laughing,” he said, his voice warm and full of something you couldn’t quite place, “because you’ve just made this much easier for me.”
You peeked at him through your fingers, confused. “What… what do you mean?”
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze soft but unwavering. “I’ve felt the same way about you for a long time.”
You froze, the world tilting on its axis. “You’re joking,” you said flatly, shaking your head. “You’re not serious.”
“Do I look like someone who would joke about this?” he asked, raising a brow.
You hesitated, searching his face for any hint of insincerity, but all you saw was quiet certainty. “You… really mean it?”
Instead of answering with words, Diluc closed the distance between you. His hand cupped your cheek gently, giving you plenty of time to pull away, but you didn’t. His lips pressed against yours, soft and sure, like a promise made in silence.
The kiss stole the breath from your lungs, and when he finally pulled back, your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.
“Does that convince you?” he asked, his voice a low murmur.
You could only nod, too overwhelmed to form words.
He smiled—a rare, genuine smile that made your chest feel impossibly warm. “Good,” he said, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Because I don’t plan on letting you forget it.”
wanderer.
The sharp scent of antiseptic stings your nose as Wanderer kneels in front of you, his deft hands busy cleaning the gash on your arm. His touch is precise and gentle, yet his words sting more than the wound ever could.
"Do you have any idea how reckless you are? You’re a complete idiot, you know that?" His indigo eyes bore into yours, sharp as a blade, but there's something softer hidden behind his glare. "What were you thinking, throwing yourself into danger like that?"
"I was trying to help," you mutter weakly, unable to meet his gaze.
"Help?" His voice rises, then falls into a low, simmering growl. "You call this helping? Getting yourself hurt like this? You could have—" He cuts himself off, a rare flicker of vulnerability breaking through his irritation.
He sighs, exasperated, and reaches for the bandages. "Hold still," he orders.
The bandage feels cool against your skin as he carefully wraps it around your arm, his hands so steady and gentle that you almost forget the scolding. His fingers brush over your skin with deliberate tenderness, and the contrast between his harsh tone and his delicate touch is almost dizzying.
"You’re so infuriating," he mutters, shaking his head. "Why do you always make me worry like this? It’s like you’re trying to give me a heart attack—if I even had one." His lips twitch into a smirk at his own sarcasm, but the worry behind his words is unmistakable.
"I'm sorry," you say softly, daring to glance up at him.
He pauses, his hands stilling as his eyes meet yours. For a moment, the air is thick with unspoken emotions. Then, with a sigh, he leans in, his forehead briefly pressing against yours. "You really are an idiot," he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost affectionate.
Before you can respond, he tilts your chin up and presses a kiss to your lips. It's firm, lingering, and filled with a quiet desperation that he’d never put into words.
When he pulls away, his glare returns, but it’s less convincing now. "Don’t think this means I’ve forgiven you. Next time, stay out of trouble—or I’ll tie you to a tree until the danger’s gone. Got it?"
You can't help but laugh, even though it earns you a half-hearted scowl. "Got it."
"Good," he says, wrapping the final bandage with a precise knot. Then, to your surprise, he brushes a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering just a moment too long. "Because if you pull something like this again, I won’t just scold you—I’ll haunt you. Permanently."
Despite his words, the way he cups your cheek and presses a featherlight kiss to your temple tells you all you need to know about how deeply he cares.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
@amalythea 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.
how long had it been since you last felt at peace with your lover? how long had it been since you hadn’t had to walk on eggshells around him? how long had it been since you went to bed happy?
answer: too long ago to remember.
sure, alhaitham had been nothing but the sweetest with you, so patient when you were in one of your moods, so understanding when you were occasionally too busy with work to see him. he’d been vulnerable with you, and let you do the same with him in turn, under multiple starry nights. he’d even shown you his softest side– kaveh often joked that he should hold you hostage next time he forgot the house keys and needed alhaitham to open the door for him. but perhaps you should’ve been just a little more observant.
why did alhaitham, of all people, always end up in a foul mood when he saw you laughing with your other male friends? because he was jealous. why did he get jealous even though he knew they were just your friends? … i don’t know. it didn’t matter, then, because you found it kinda endearing how he was obsessed with you and you could tirelessly assure him that he was the only one for you.
and then it got worse.
“why won’t you let me hang out with my friends?”
“because there’ll be guys.” your lover replied, not missing a beat, and not looking up from that stupid book he’d been reading for days on end.
“what’s that got to do with–” you felt your blood pressure rise. “are you implying you can’t trust me with other guys?”
out of everything you’d said that afternoon, that was the one that got him to put his book aside.
“what? no, that’s not what i–”
“then what do you mean?” you raised your voice, “because ever since the start of this relationship, all you say every time i so much as mention one single guy friend is how you get jealous and how much you don’t like when i talk about them! you ever hear me do that when you talk about your friends?”
“woah, babe, will you relax for a second? can’t we talk this out?”
you stopped dead. “relax?” you repeated in disbelief. upon seeing his face — completely serious — you sighed and reached for the door. “...i can’t do this right now. i need space.”
“wait– where’re you going?”
“out.” you didn’t see, didn’t hear him reach for you, mouthing the words “don’t leave.”
you had never been more grateful to have candace as a friend, for she had welcomed you into aaru village with open arms and told you to stay for as many nights as you needed to.
why did you always give in to alhaitham’s needs, even if it burnt you out? because i loved him. why hadn’t he done the same, and instead constantly rejected you when you voiced your needs, saying he’d already been trying his best? … i don’t know. yet he’d turned around and made you feel like the asshole for asking him to meet your needs.
“sometimes, i feel like you don’t even care about me. do you really love me?”
“...what?”
he sighs. “it feels like i’ve given up so much for you, but you never did for me.”
“?????”
“you… don’t agree?” he looked at your dumbfounded face, at your mouth opening and closing as you looked for words to defend yourself without making the conversation yet another argument.
“i…” you inhaled deeply. “what made you think that?” you attempted a small smile to show you were calm — so he wouldn’t tell you to relax and be patient with him, like he had countless times before — but it felt so wrong.
i gave up my dream to move to fontaine for you, you want to scream. all because you’d rather stay in sumeru but couldn’t bear the thought of being far away from me.
alhaitham had always been excellent at chess. maybe a bit too good, now that you thought about it. maybe that’s why his proficiency at the game translated into his actions around you.
“i’ve been thinking about it, and i think i want a break.”
“you want a breakup?”
“no. just– just a break from this.” you gestured lamely, “from this relationship. it’s stressing me out.”
he stared, incredulous. “how am i stressing you out?”
“not you, i–”
“tell me what’s wrong, babe.” he interrupted, reaching out to clasp your hands with his. “i’ll do better, we can work on it together, right?”
“but you always say that.”
“i mean it every time, i really do.” he sounded so desperate, so pleading, till part of you wanted to just take back everything you’d just said.
you inhaled. “i just think the break would be good for us, you know? like, i’ve been stressed out because you’ve been upset i haven’t been fulfilling your needs and i think i could use the break to work on myself so you don’t feel neglected, y’know?”
“no.” he stared at you like you just told him cyno was in love with kaveh. “you know you’re going to make things worse if we go on break.”
“oh.”
later that night, as you tiptoed out of the house with your bags, you couldn’t help but wonder if alhaitham was the only one who brought the relationship you had to its bitter end.
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lynette's right. i did flip. from lyney
note: three people asked for the same prompt + switches between name & y/n, switching povs, mildly inspired by flipped. i kinda lost the plot at some point, bare with me.
prompt: realizing feelings
event masterlist 𝜗𝜚 general masterlist
y/n l/n. the person who’s literally the bane of his existence. someone who’s a dork and stuck onto him like glue since the fifth grade. all he wanted from them was space. at least, two people apart. at this point, he’d be okay with arms length. lyney remembered it was the summer of eighth grade, nearing the end of middle school and the start of freshman year. but there was this–
this person just barged into his life. more like if they shoved, wedged and snuck between the nooks and crannies, filling in the room with their annoying presence. thankfully, of course, his father, arlecchino saved him from name’s clutches every time. lyney would make a mini thank you to the hydro archon, focalors, when father would direct name to other places or lie about if lyney was just sleeping or had bow practice.
though, on the other hand, lynette managed to befriend you. out of all the people she had to befriend, she picked you who was undoubtedly the most dangerous person in the world. ever! and his uncle had experimented on people!
the betrayal lyney experienced within a mere second was hard to explain. well, from an outsider’s pov, he just looked like he was a fish out of water with an accusing pointed finger and a few gasps. it was so bad he started to have hiccups. when lynette saw him, he ducked his head behind the picket white fence as you laughed. “so vile… so evil…” he mumbled to himself, shaking and curled up like a ball.
unfortunately for lyney, he remembers this specifically because his family has this moment framed.
on the family picture wall.
that summer he was supposed to have fun, go outside and play with his friends. but instead, when he checked out the windows, there was you. you were camping out outside of your house, waiting to hunt him down. when you stopped attempting magic, he squinted his eyes, seeing a discarded magician hat– a real magician wouldn’t leave his tricks behind like that ! – you sat on the curb. face in your hands, sweaty and exhausted… from being evil.
he remembered that dreadful day when you came over his house and the only thing the manliest man could do at the age of ten was hide behind his step-mom, columbina. his cautious eyes linger on your every step. he likes to say his eyes are the most feline part of him. her wings fluttered as she chuckled at his reaction, “why won’t you play soccer with name and your sister, lyney?”
“because…” lyney trailed off, his blonde hair tied in a messy ponytail. he bit the inside of his cheek, a bad habit that would haunt him until the end of time. if he would be honest and frankly, he wished he could, because he didn’t want to be kicked around by not only his sister but also you! instead he said grumpy, “i don’t wanna play with them. i’m going to play with freminet.”
columbia stifled a laugh as she pointed at the backyard’s door. lyney’s eyes followed her direction as he watched his little brother slide the backyard’s door to play soccer with his newfound enemies. internally, he was screaming, crying and bawling his eyes out. WHY FREMINET? first, lynette, now you?? it’s like this whole family is full of traitors.
instead, as the older brother, he must be mature and understanding. the next words he utters have to reflect that. sure, his eyes do linger outside. and maybe, his fomo is acting up. his feet were itching to kick something, maybe a sphere bouncy rubber thing. but totally not a soccer ball.
his gaze looked at his siblings having fun. he knows that columbia can read him like a book but he’s not willing to break from his disgust of you. your eyes met his lilac ones, his face tinged with embarrassment for being caught red handed. his stepmom laughed a little but it’s not like he cares anyway.
“whatever.”
***
in middle school, he thought he had escaped from your grasp. it was wishful thinking that you’d go to the school closer to your house instead. too bad, he forgot that you’re in the same district as him.
maybe it was a little immature that he was willing to get away from your obsessive tendencies by using the girl you hated the most, mona megistus. for whatever reason why you hated mona in particular was beyond him but the information given by his gossip loving friend, venti, will definitely come into play. lyney went out of his way to hang out next to mona who seemed to enjoy this exchange. it continued until it spun out of his control.
mona was telling everyone including you that he and she had fallen in love. she claimed that lyney would ask her out at the end of the week. she was particularly rubbing into your face too. but thats not because lyney cared about you, it’s only because it’s not true! she was deflaming his name! insulting his name means she was also insulting lynette and freminet. but most of all, his father’s name!
maybe this is a big exaggeration. it’d likely not spread as far to his own father. but one thing for sure is that it’s definitely working. you weren’t coming too hot to him anymore. he spotted your eyes glaring daggers into mona and this is when lyney knew…
you will never come close after that.
right?
***
when you first moved into fontaine, your mother insisted it was the city of love. if it was, then where was your father in this situation? gone off and away as the hydro dragon weeps, rushing a storm in the city. maybe, the hydro dragon knows there’s no means of loving someone in this life. until you met him, lyney snezhevich– honestly, recounting this story sounds even cheesier than the previous retelling.
it was a dark rainy night and there was he. just kidding, that’s just daydreamer mode. it was a rainy day though. it was the first time you’ve been to fontaine and frankly, a little lost. your mother had disappeared from view, your clothes were soaked in cold water as you sat under a shop’s awning. pitiful really… like a sopping wet cat.
no one else would interact with you but he did. well, actually, you have no idea if he remembers it at all but he lent you a hand alongside lynette and their father.
lyney’s eyes smiled as he pulled you under their makeshift, blanket tent, showing you his magic tricks which failed numerous times but he played it off. it was cute. however, it ended far too quickly; they warmed you up in ten minutes and sent you back to your parent. but those ten minutes you wished had been a lifetime. it had more warmth literally and figuratively you’ve felt in a long good long time since father had left.
eighth grade had ended and so did your friendship with mona megistis. your best friend since the first grade betrayed you just for a glimpse of popularity. with her stupid long, silk hair tied into pigtails and her fake pitched giggle sounding like a distorted laughing track on some kids television, she smugly showed off her new entourage. you laughed at the fact that she used to boast that you two came in a package of get one, get the other free– a two-for-one deal. bitterly the following memory, right after when school ended, she went up to you, telling you she found new friends to appreciate her more than you did.
as if!
she kept feeding everyone lies like it was her second nature. if anyone cared to lend their ear to you, they’d know that you were the giving tree to her little greedy self. whatever, who cares that you don’t have any more friends left? right?
well, the upside is that you befriended lynette and her brother, freminet during the summer. but lyney? not so much though you try your best to get on his good side. like this one time, when you went over to the snezhevich family’s backyard, playing soccer with the two out of three snezhevich siblings. you caught his gaze on you, making you feel a bit self conscious. was your hair frizzy? did you have an eye booger in the corner of your eyes? oh god, did he notice your mismatched socks? you waved at him, smiling as he swiftly turned around, flustered ears as he walked off.
what was he embarrassed of? until this day, it still makes you wonder. maybe it’s that framed photo of him looking like a fish out of water. haha but that was cute though.
maybe it was fate that you were in the same school, same grade and same class as lyney in highschool. okay, you sound a little tad insane there but the chances of having the same second period aka the same homeroom as lyney? 1 in six chances! SIX.
you thanked whichever archon in charge of love. maybe she knew you and lyney were destined to be together forever and everr…
or not!
not when miss grabby hands mona megistus with her stupid hair and stupid smirk on her face has her greasy hands wrapped around lyney’s arm. just seeing her face next to a total dreamboat makes you so upset. it was to a point lynette thought you had become a hot kettle and joked if she can use you to brew some tea.
… that was pretty funny though.
but lynette doesn’t get it. she doesn’t know how twisted mona could be. it has only been two weeks since she was spotted hanging out with lyney and yet, she told everyone that they’re in love and bound to get married in high school.
Synopsis: You miss someone special to you, someone very special to you. But, you don't have any memories of them to fill the emptiness you feel, only a void of the love you have for them. And the fact that Teyvat stole you from your world did not make the process of healing any better.
Warning: mentions of death, loss of someone close (not specified), depression (maybe), and isolation (I think), spoilers for the Natlan story quest.
You hear the news. They're gone. But tears did not fall nor did the thought cross your mind that someone you held dear to your heart, at least you know you once held close to your heart, has passed. Only then you see them lying inside the coffin did your heart begin to swell, tears running down your cheeks, and your heart cracking as the emotions of the time when you were once together begin to clench your heart.
You could only walk up to the coffin and whisper the regrets you had at your actions of forgetting and not cherishing the time you had together, leading to a crumbling and empty heart in your chest that was once their home.
You enter their room, even with their things stacked and toppling in their room, it never felt more bare. You could only rest on the foot of their bed as you try to wipe away the tears still running down your face, betraying the last bit of phlegmatic expression you had as wails of sorrow coat around you while mumbling small and meaningless apologies since it was too late until the silence overwhelms you enough for you to doze off.
As the sun peaks through the fluttering shade, flickering against your face, you could see the bright blue sky with faint clouds scattered across, and the floor felt warm and dusty. You rise from the ground and notice the place was no longer the room you fell asleep in, but an open landscape of bronze cliffs painted in colour bright.
"... where..."
Your voice but a mere murmur as the winds gusts though your hair. Your eyes were puffy from crying, the weight you feel chaining you to the ground, threatening to drag you into despair.
As you drop your knees to the ground, ignoring the mysterious change of landscape, a pair of footsteps start to draw near, yet you still shun it away, numb from the loss and emptiness from inside.
"Hello. Are you okay?" A young voice spoke to you, her tone soft and kind, making you turn to see who was talking.
As your gaze landed on the person behind the voice that spoke to you, your eyes widened to see a young girl you knew from a game known a Genshin Impact.
"... Kachina?" You whisper as you stood up in your feet to see the girl closer. You hand caressing her cheeks as your eyes scanned her from top to bottom. "What are you..."
As your voice trailed off, Kachina got a good look as you were eyeing her, but your puffy eyes and weak moves are what caught her attention. "...! Excuse me, but, you're not looking very well, would you like some water? Or some cookies?" The young child offers as she sat you down in her attempt to help.
The young girl then takes a handful of treats from her bag as well as a small mashak of water, offering to you with her brows furrowed and lips pursed from concern. "Please, take them."
She then leads you to a nearby tree for some shade against the heat of the sun. "What happened? Why are you here all alone? It's dangerous out here without any protection."
You only gave Kachina a small smile as you gently patted her head while she was talking. "It's nice to meet you... Kachina."
The girl's eyes widened for a split second after you said her name, it felt warm and... homey. "... I... How did you know my name?"
"... You're adorable... Kachina." You mumbled before pulling your hand back down, your gaze also faltering to the ground.
"...? What do you mean?" The young blonde asks as she tilts her head from your words, they are sudden and amiss. But looking at the person before her, their tired and puffy eyes, clear from crying themselves to sleep, and hoarse voice was clear that something happened to them.
"... It's nothing." You brush off as you look down on your lap where all the snacks and water the young blonde gave to you and start taking a bit out of one of the cookies. "Thank you for the food."
While you were eating your cookie, there was only silence between you and the young Kachina, accompanied with some noises from the tepetlisaurus nearby, and the soft rustle of the leaves in the tree.
After a long while of you eating then finally finishing your cookie, you take a sip of the water Kachina gave you before looking back at the girl herself. "Say... did something... big in Natlan happen recently?"
The unexpected question made the girl poo her head up, not thinking the mysterious person next to them would ask something like that after the odd interaction just before.
"Oh! Yes, there was a war against the abyss not too long ago. We suffered many losses, but we won, so, those who couldn't be saved by the Ode of Resurrection weren't in vain." The young girl exclaimed with a bright smile, but held a tinge melancholy, as she knew that there were many that could've survived, especially those she knew.
"... Did you also lose someone you knew?"
"I... I did..."
You then heave a small sigh as you turn back to the girl, remembering that your choices had affected the outcome of the war greatly, feeling somewhat responsible for the lives of Kachina's friends.
"... I hope you spent a lot of time with them, and made many memories for you to cherish."
Your words had hit the girl as she suddenly recalled the time she spent with her late friends. "... Oh... I- I did..."
Placing the cookies on a rock close to your side, you then sat on your knees as you held Kachina's hand with your eyes locked towards each other, your gaze kind and warm, yet flooded with sorrow.
"Kachina. Keep those memories close to your heart." You whisper softly as you guided the girl's hands to her chest. "Keep them close, and never let go. Think of them as a reminder that their memories, their existence wasn't just a fleeting moment, but an impact to many many people. Alright?"
"... Don't be like me..." You breathed softly as your hand wavered before falling down back to your lap. "Don't be a fool and believe memories can just be remade... you might never have that chance..."
cw: angst, hurt/no comfort, forbidden love, slight religious trauma i think, homophobia, wlw, NOT proofreading
The church was easily the biggest building in town, being able to accommodate well over 200 people at once. And despite growing up in a small community, there was still a large number of residents who could easily fill every space available. Though on most days, half the seats would be empty.
Weddings are, if not, the biggest event that the church could host. You’ve been to a fair share of weddings growing up. Every time it was the same process. The bride would walk down the aisle with their father and the groom would be by the altar, usually crying. Then the priest would bind the couples together and recite a prayer. Afterwards, the newly-wedded would kiss and the crowd would start clapping and tears would be shed.
“Someday that’ll be you,” Mom said.
It was subtly hinted at, that same-sex marriage wasn’t allowed. When you became of age, your parents sat you down and told you straight-up, dating—or worse, marrying, the same gender as you was a sin. Something that God couldn’t forgive. They stressed that it would bring shame to not only the family’s name, but to them as well. You’d listen and nod, soaking in your parent’s words.
And for years on, you followed their beliefs. You fell in love with a blond hair boy, and dated for a while before breaking up with him. He was the only boy you’ve ever dated. “He just wasn’t the right one,” Dad reassured you.
It wasn’t until one Sunday afternoon, during mass, that you caught sight of a newcomer. Having new residents move in wasn’t at all uncommon, but something about her immediately piqued your interest.
Her blue hair was cut short at an angle, just barely below her chin. Her eyes were the prettiest shade of blue, glittering impishly. When she smiled, you noticed, her canine teeths would just peek out ever so slightly. She was gorgeous. The prettiest girl you’ve ever laid eyes on.
“Hey.”
She’s suddenly in front of you—shit, were you staring too hard? You opened your mouth to speak, but your parents got to it before you could. “You must be the neighbor’s daughter!” your mom exclaimed.
The blue hair girl smiled and nodded. “Yes, that’s me. Call me Yelan,” she said.
Yelan. You have never heard of this name before. It’s cute.
Your Mom’s smiled grew bigger. She grabbed Yelan’s hand and introduced everyone before popping the question. “Please ask your parents if you guys would like to join us for dinner tonight. It’d be lovely to meet our new neighbors.”
For a moment Yelan looked uncomfortable with the sudden physical touch, but she didn’t say anything. Instead she nodded. “I will, thank you for the invitation, Miss. It is a pleasure to meet you all.” She winked at you.
She winked at you? Were you seeing things? You blinked and she was gone, already settling back in her seats, next to her parents.
When it was all over, your parents rushed home and began preparations to welcome the new guests. Mom had told you to stay in your room and clean it up, which you didn’t really get the point of since 1) it was clean, and 2) who’s coming into your room? Hours passed by with the occasion clatters of pots and pans downstairs, and you laid in your bed, staring up at the ceiling.
By the time you counted to 32,348, the familiar voices of your neighbors came within earshot. They’re here. She’s here.
You had just gotten up from the comforts of your bed to change into a more appropriate wear when you heard your mother calling out for you. Frantically brushing through the tangled mess of your hair, you shouted back that you’ll be down in one moment.
By the time you ran down the stairs to group up, everyone had already taken a seat. Your mother quickly ushered you over, and you took a seat across from Yelan. She flashed you a small smile, and you smiled back, heart racing. Was it from seeing her, or was it because you were running down the stairs? It could be a little bit of both.
“Now that we’re all here…” your father began.
You weren’t listening to whatever your father was saying, instead keeping your gaze on her. Yelan was absolutely breathtaking. Prettier than everything else you’ve ever came across in all the years of your life. Her sparkling eyes shone with confidence and pride, the colors within mimicking the shimmers of the great sea. Your father tapped his spoon against the side of his wine glass and cleared his throat, signaling to everyone that everyone can begin dining.
“Amen,” he said.
As you ate, you couldn’t help but wonder if what you were thinking was appropriate. It was all pure admiration for someone, you reasoned. After all, you’ve never met anyone remotely similar to Yelan. You took a sip of water to wash down everything. Her eyes met yours when you look over to steal another glance, and you nearly choke on the water.
Your mother gave you a look of concern. “Are you okay honey?”
“Yeah,” you managed out. “I’m finished with dinner.”
You grabbed your cleared out dishes and hurried to the kitchen, trying to get out as fast as you can. Unbeknownst to you, Yelan was right behind you. So it was quite the surprise—and scare—when you turned around and nearly bumped into her.
“Yelan!” you gasped. “Goodness, you scared me.”
She grinned. “Sorry about that.”
Your breath hitched, and you hastily looked away. “It’s fine.”
It was not fine.
…
Nothing was fine.
Girls cannot like girls. It was going against God’s wishes if you even thought about such temptation.
But you really like Yelan. You like her far more than just a friend.
You can’t. It’s wrong, wrong—wrong. What would your mother think? How would your father react? They’ll shun you. Everybody. They’ll label you as nothing but an outcast who went against God’s wishes.
Yelan was wonderful. It was for the first time in your life that you felt such strong attraction to someone. You love her for all the right reasons, but for all the wrong reasons, you cannot. You mustn’t.
Your parents have taken so much from you—it can’t hurt to be selfish for once. Right?
The world was cruel.
Yet it felt like paradise when she leaned in slowly, so slowly you’d think time stopped just for this moment, and pressed her lips to yours. It was gentle. Yelan was always gentle with you.
It was wrong. You shouldn’t be kissing a girl. But it felt right, it felt so right—so good.
And when she broke away, you grabbed the collar of her shirt and pulled her back. You wanted more. It was a selfish act, but she didn’t seem to mind. You could feel her smile into the kiss.
It burned. You could feel your blood on fire, heart scorched and sinned. It all felt painfully wonderful. Doubt, hatred, anger—seared through your mind. The horrible feeling of wrong pushed down on your chest. It was heavy.
Bliss and ignorance dare cross paths. Yelan pressed a firm hand on your shoulder. And you let yourself slip away.
This is your moment. You must live it.
…
“They know.”
The two words that made you stiffen up. You felt your heart jump. “What?”
Yelan couldn’t look at you. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Our parents,” she whispered, choking on her words. “They know.”
Oh.
Oh no.
They’re going to be mad. Really mad. You didn’t want to go home. You knew what awaited you behind the closed doors. You were scared. They’ve caught you doing the very thing they’ve warned you against for your entire life. Yelan squeezed your hand. She could feel your anxiousness.
Even though she tried to hide it, you could tell that she was scared too. What if this was the end?
Yelan pulled you in and kissed the top of your head.
The night was cold, colder now that the winds have begun to pick up. Strands of your hair slipped loose and danced with the breeze. You sucked in a deep breath. They can’t take this from you.
They can’t.
“Yelan,” you whispered, so quietly the wind could’ve swooped in and whisk your voice away.
“Yes?”
“What’s going to happen to us?”
Silence hung in the air. Tight, sickening, crushing silence. You felt sick.
“…I don’t know.”
You chewed at your bottom lip. Anxiety clouded your mind, and all you could think was the consequences that followed. You’ve been waiting for someone like Yelan for your entire life, and to have everything taken away in such a short moment… you’d rather die.
Three months. That can’t be the amount of time the two of you have spent together. It can’t be the last time. You were going to walk down the aisle and meet her by the altar. You were supposed to have your hands bounded to one another while reciting your vows.
Why can’t they understand? Mom and Dad always wanted to make sure you were happy, no matter what. So why is everyone suddenly so against it when you’ve found the very thing you’ve been craving for for so long?
Was it because you were born a girl?
You closed your eyes, and the background noise faded into nothing but a ringing sound resonating in your ears. When you reopened them, all you could see was the sight of Yelan yelling at her parents. The world was ringing.
There was something gripping to your arm. The touch felt somehow both familiar and distant. You tear your eyes away from Yelan and turn to face your Father. There was an intense look in his eyes. A sickening fury flickered within, a fire so fierce that you felt your breath drop.
Where is Yelan?
You looked back at Yelan, but she wasn’t there. Nobody was there. The house where Yelan used to reside in was now vacant. It looked like it’d been vacant for a while now. That wasn’t right.
Father dragged you into the house and pushed you onto the couch. Words came spilling from his mouth, but you heard nothing. Not a single word.
The world kept ringing.
Mother sat next to Father. She was crying, ugly tears streaming down her face.
You’ve lost her.
The ringing stopped.
“It’s over,” Father said.
“May God lead you down the right path.”
✩ ·┆ masterlist
notes—
sorry this isn’t as sad as it was suppose to be, im just incredibly stressed about college decisions atm 😕
kaeya with prompts “stop moving, i'm almost done!” + “don't smile at me like that!”? maybe we're doing his makeup or something I'm a sucker for that
do your best to make me hate him too pls (I have faith that you will succeed, as always)
「 make-up 」
⤷ info: kaeya x gn!reader || fluff || wc: 450
⤷ warnings: kaeya teases reader, who is sitting on his lap
⤷ extra: HI HI IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG
“Stop moving, I’m almost done!” you huffed, the eyeliner pencil in your hand trembling slightly as Kaeya shifted beneath you.
He rested one arm lazily on the back of the chair, the other settling comfortably on your waist. His signature smirk tugged at his lips, and the glint in his eye betrayed his mischief. “I can’t help it when you’re sitting on my lap, darling. It’s hard to focus on anything else.”
You gave him a pointed look, leaning in closer to steady your hand. “Kaeya, if you don’t stay still, this will end in disaster, and I’m not fixing it.”
“Disaster?” he echoed, feigning offense. “You wound me. I trust your skills implicitly.”
Your sigh was sharp but fond, the warmth of his breath brushing your neck making it harder to concentrate. You steadied the pencil once more, your knees bracketing his hips as you tried to ignore the soft chuckle rumbling in his chest.
That chuckle turned into a full laugh when he caught sight of your determined expression. He grinned up at you, his single visible eye full of mirth.
And then, he smiled. That slow, lazy smile—the one that made your pulse quicken and your thoughts stutter.
“Don’t smile at me like that!” you snapped, your voice catching slightly as you pulled back to glare at him.
“Like what?” he asked, tilting his head, the very picture of innocence. Except for the hand on your waist, which tightened ever so slightly, pulling you an inch closer.
“Like you’re up to something,” you muttered, your cheeks warming. “And stop moving. I mean it this time.”
Kaeya sighed dramatically, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Fine, fine. I’m at your mercy.” He glanced up at you through his lashes. “Though, I must say, you look cute when you’re flustered.”
“Kaeya!”
He laughed again, the deep, velvety sound reverberating through you. But, to your surprise, he actually stayed still this time, letting you finish your work without further interruptions.
When you leaned back to inspect your handiwork, Kaeya shifted to catch a glimpse in the mirror. “Impressive,” he mused, dragging a finger along the edge of the eyeliner. “But do I look this good because of you, or do I naturally radiate charm?”
You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “You’re lucky I like you.”
He grinned, his hands sliding to your waist as he held you firmly in place. “Lucky, am I? No, my dear, I’d say I’m blessed.”
Before you could protest, he leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. The smirk that followed was insufferable, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mind—not when it was Kaeya.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
@amalythea 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.
Characters: Xiangling, Thoma, Heizou, Al Haitham, Scaramouche/Wanderer
Word Count: 570
Reading under the cut
Notes: finals season & sem's gonna end soon (finally) but I've been inactive for so long I had to post something & luckily writer's block isn't here :D For half of these hcs, I though of more games they could be convinced to get into but I tried to make this one based on genres they would likely try w/o much prompting. Perhaps in the future I'll post about gaming together ;)
Xiangling
Would definitely play cooking sims. Pretty obvious go-to choice for her.
Besides cooking sims, she'll gravitate towards games with social and competitive elements.
If there are achievements to collect, sign her up.
Will be seriously working in completing mastery in all dishes in the game and 10/10 take ideas after realizing how good they can be for drawing inspiration from.
Won't get to taste-test the dishes but that's what makes it all the more worth of a challenge for her to replicate them in real-time.
Introduce her to fantasy based games and their culinary world and the motivation only multiplies.
Thoma
Cooking sim player #2.
Loves social and cozy games too.
Not quite competitive, but would definitely love tinkering around with things, making him excited a good doze with designing/customizing options.
Would gravitate towards games centering around communities (lowkey likes sharing and the sense of belonging in playing together).
Overall very cozy and casual gamer.
Thoma would also be interested in trying some RPGs at the side since the idea of stories of people and getting a chance to put himself in their shoes could appeal to him.
Golden retriever gamer basically.
Heizou
Mystery, Survival, Strategy. The big 3 summed up for Heizou.
Usually goes for heavily story-driven games.
Locks in hardcore into the game and is there full on calculating and analyzing. Everything.
Would always end up figuring out everything before getting to designated twists or climaxes.
And comments later about his inputs nonchalantly, even chuckling at the supposed nerve-wracking parts.
But don't forget how focused he was on the game at the start. It took him some real work to solve it all so he can sit chilling about it later.
Al Haitham
Another strategy nerd.
Challenges and puzzles drive him to try gaming.
The type that may have unironically checked out games with 'educational' tags on it.
Into story-rich games too (give him something to immerse into and think about) and might even try and like visual novels.
Will consider stepping out of his usual strategic genre and trying those with discovery/explorative themes.
He'll search up and read reviews and criticism on games that are generally not so strategy centered.
He plays survival and horror games with the most poker-faced expression ever.
Also dominates any leaderboards present and appears extremely uncaring about it (watch him use the fact against any gaming related argument against Kaveh though).
Has played dozens of hidden object and pattern based games in the past.
Scaramouche/Wanderer
Aggressive and destructive noises exploding from the screen paired with rapid clicking; a very common occurrence.
Commits like a hundred war crimes as he plays.
Loves action games and social games, not because he likes interacting with people and having a good time, but because he needs community elements in games to increase his expansive hobby of crushing people under him.
Heavily invested with the leaderboard, but will roll his eyes and scoff once he's at the top, emphasizing how much of a trivial thing it is to him.
Will use his ranking as a card in his daily conversations with people online to piss them along with his dripping sarcasm and audacity.
Might be secretly into immersive games with fantasy and story elements with calmer and imaginative themes (the child in him craves it okay) but shush, he's not talking about it.
summary : With winter comes mischief, and when the day starts with snow, a snowball fight is bound to happen
contains : just wintery shenanigans hehe ; multi characters! ; implied relationship/friendship ; fluff ; gn!reader, this drabble is written in second person
word count : 317
A soft blanket of white covered the city before you. If not for the biting cold that gnawed at your cheeks and nose, you might have wondered if it was only a dream. The falling flakes melt over your warm face and cling to your clothes in a momentary hug, then fade away into droplets, like a fleeting vision; a kiss of winter...
Amidst the snowy world, you hear people shuffling through the snow just as you were. The city bustled as usual with everyone going about their day, but you pause. To your eyes, one figure stands out amongst the hustle, and you recognise them immediately with an involuntary smile.
Your feet move, boots crushing the fallen snow that covered your path.
"Aren't you cold?" Is your first greeting; scolding, yet softened by the warmth in your tone. They were always one to brush off that same chill that crept up your fingers numbingly. Perhaps the cold didn't bother them, or perhaps they simply forgot to grab a warmer jacket.
They open their mouth and you know it's to brush off your concern; you don't let them speak.
It's a quick movement— your hand moves to brush the snow gathered over your jacketed shoulder, the flaky white dusting onto them in frozen confetti.
You hear a huff and their breath condenses into a soft cloud before it disappears. What were they feeling: amusement at your audacity? Exasperation at your exuberant mischief? Or perhaps both?
Then— swifter than you were— they cup some of the innocent slow off the ground, and have their vengeance; and you— you receive a face full of a snowball that slides over your skin, your body warmth melting it to droplets. Your face glistens with your unceremonious defeat.
"Hey—!" You exclaim, also bending to grab a fistful of snow, and you did not intend to live this down silently. "You started this!”
omg i love this new event and ive been scrolling thru your acc since i read that one kazuha fic!! if possible, may i pls request 46. “i can't help but wonder if you ever truly loved me.” with kazuha since i need some angsty angst and i adore the way you write him! tysm, and feel free to ignore this request ir you're busy! <333 THANK YOU FOR FEEDING US!
⤷ warnings: break up, heartbreak, angst. i cried when writing this. reader is tired, alone and upset guys let's give them a break
⤷ extra: hi!! i'm honored omg thank you!! also i made up the flower (hoping there wasnt one called flame lotus in genshin already)
The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky painted in deep hues of indigo and violet. The quiet hum of cicadas filled the air, their droning chorus a poor substitute for the voice you had longed to hear. The teapot on the stove had gone cold hours ago, its contents untouched as you sat at the table, staring blankly at the faintly glowing lantern.
Another evening alone. Another night without him.
You tried not to let it weigh on you, tried to understand. Kazuha was a free spirit, a wanderer by nature. You had known this when you first fell for him, when his poems were your only company for weeks at a time. But something in your chest had begun to ache in ways you hadn’t expected, hollow and gnawing, growing with each passing day.
The door creaked open, and his familiar silhouette appeared, framed by the dim light of the moon. He stepped inside quietly, as if afraid to disturb the peace. His soft smile reached you first, a flicker of warmth that you would have once found comforting. Now, it only deepened the bitter weight in your chest.
“Did I keep you waiting?” he asked, his voice as calm as the ocean breeze. He shed his coat, hanging it neatly by the door, and turned to you with those gentle eyes of his.
You shook your head, though the words you wanted to say burned on your tongue.
He moved closer, setting his travel-worn bag by the wall. “I found something today that reminded me of you,” he said, withdrawing a delicate flower from his pocket. The petals were a vibrant red, trembling slightly in his hands. “It’s called a flame lotus. The vendor said it thrives in solitude but burns brighter when it’s nurtured.”
You stared at the flower, at the care he took in holding it, and something inside you snapped.
“Kazuha,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. “Do I mean anything to you?”
He blinked, startled, the flower dipping slightly in his grasp. “What kind of question is that?”
“I can’t help but wonder,” you continued, the words tumbling out before you could stop them, “if you ever truly loved me.”
The air grew heavy, the cicadas outside suddenly silent. Kazuha’s eyes widened briefly before narrowing with something that might have been hurt or disbelief. He set the flower down carefully, too carefully, as though it might shatter under his touch.
“Why would you think that?” he asked softly, but his voice carried the weight of a thousand storms.
You stood, your chair scraping against the floor, and faced him fully. “Because I feel like I’m always waiting, always hoping you’ll come back, but when you do, it’s like I’m just another stop on your journey. I’ve tried to convince myself that I’m enough, that I can handle the loneliness, but…” Your voice cracked, and you clenched your fists. “But I can’t anymore.”
His gaze dropped, his silence cutting deeper than any argument could. You wanted him to fight, to deny it, to promise you that he loved you, that he needed you. Instead, he simply stood there, the distance between you growing insurmountable.
“I never meant for you to feel this way,” he murmured, his tone laced with regret. “I thought... I thought you understood.”
You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. “I thought I did too. But understanding doesn’t make it hurt any less.”
Kazuha opened his mouth, then closed it again, his expression unreadable. The poet, the wanderer, the man who always had a verse ready for every occasion, now had nothing to say.
The silence stretched, oppressive and cold. Finally, you turned away, unable to bear the sight of him any longer. “Maybe it’s better if you go. You’re good at that, aren’t you?”
His sharp intake of breath was the only indication that your words had hit their mark. He didn’t move, not at first, but when you risked a glance over your shoulder, he was already reaching for his coat.
He paused by the door, the flower still sitting untouched on the table between you. “I do love you,” he said quietly, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. “In my own way.”
And then he was gone, the sound of his footsteps fading into the night. The flame lotus sat there, its vibrant red mocking the emptiness in your chest.
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@amalythea 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.
