âââàœ»àœŽÛȘÛȘ⥠rue / red (thoma's bf!) | 8teen | enfp | libra | carrd (coming soon) | genshin impact writer
hi! im rue. i write for genshin impact. nice to meet you!
no schedule but i try to update as often as i can
inclined to smau-ify anything
current project : " my savior! " - thoma x kamisato!reader smau
lowercase intentional
He was someone who you had always known. He was your older brotherâs best friend, always hanging around your house. But he was kind, reliable.
You kept your secret pining over sweet, handsome Tohma a secret ever since your brother first brought him home. You were sure that he would never see you as anything but his best friendâs little sister.
But still, he was the first person you thought to call. Your brother himself was out of the question, you knew he would just tease you and make you feel even worse than you already did. It was a little past 3 in the morning when you called him, his raspy, drowsy voice immediately picking up with a soft call of your name.
âEverythinâ alright, darlinâ?â he asks, making the floodgates open. You try to get out what the problem was but all you could do was mumble his name and string together some semblance of needing help. You heard a sharp rustle of movement over the line before he spoke again, sounding much more alert, âTell me where you are now, sweetheart, Iâll come get you.â
You take a breath and quickly relay your location before you both hang up so he can drive.
By the time he shows up, youâre sitting on the curb, hands stuffed between your thighs as you shiver from the cold air. When he gets out of the car, his hair is messy and pushed back, like he has run his fingers through it over and over again.
He wears a pair of loose gray sweatpants and you want to laugh at the sight of his t-shirt on inside out, clearly thrown on without a secondâs hesitation. He rushes over to you, crouching beside you, hand on your back.
âHey, sweetheart,â he pants, âAre you alright? Are you hurt?â
Like the sweetheart that he is, Kazuha would never allow you to lift a finger if you're sick. He hovers over you constantly throughout the day, checking in on your fever or bringing you water and soup. He gently pushes your hand away when you try to feed yourself, bringing up a spoonful of broth to your lips with a smile and kiss to your forehead when you oblige.
He runs around the house like a dutiful nurse and pops in and out of the room with a thumbs up and occasional peck despite your protests.
He doesn't mind it, he says- a firm believer that with enough love and effort, you'll feel better in no time.
Such a good caretaker he is. It's a shame that his own care results in him coughing his lungs out the next week; the tables are turned and he is the one stuck bedridden and being pampered all day.
Oh well, he doesn't really mind since it's you who's taking care of him this time.
Xiao has absolutely no clue on how to take care of a human.
He means well when he drops the soaking wet towel on your face- how would he know? Adepti don't get sick. It's not his fault either when the tea he gives you is too hot that you nearly drop it after a careful sip.
It's hopeless for a while. Seeing you so weak is no good for his cold heart. So he begrudgingly resigns to turning toward the innkeeper for help.
He gets the hang of it eventually- once Verr Goldet berates him for a few minutes.
Now, before dropping the towel on your face, he wrings out the water and gently places it on your scorching forehead. He wipes you down and holds your hand with a touch so unlike him.
Dutifully, he watches over you as you rest, confident in the fact that if he can't care for you when you're sick, he can at least make sure no external threat could sink its claws into you.
You think the Wanderer would take care of you like some mother hen? You honestly think he'd be fussing over a pathetic, frail human like a-- hey, why are you up? Can't you see you're about to collapse?
He'll show up to your house, about to burst through the door when you open the door looking like death incarnate.
Ignoring your feeble insults, the Wanderer welcomes himself into your home with a half-hearted scoff.
"It's disgusting in here, no wonder you're sick." He says, rolling his eyes at the two (2) dirty dishes in the sink.
The attitude on him is unbearable, but somehow you find yourself tucked in bed with a bowl of warm Shimi Chazuke in your lap.
If you try to get up for any reason, he's hissing at you to go back to sleep.
His sour face is exhausting on it's own and combined with the drowsiness that came with you cold, you were knocked out for half the day.
It's a good thing though. The Wanderer doesn't need to hide the concerned look on his face when you're asleep.
also ummm sorry for being a bit inactive :((( my studies are kicking my ass again LOL but i should have a fic coming out soon!!!!! yay!!!!!
(ITS THOMA) (OF COURSE ITS THOMA)
hi!!! just wanted to drop in and say i sososo enjoyed reading your alhaitham fic! the emotion i felt from that thing?? WHEW! i really like the way you write, so im excited to see whatever else you have in store!! đ«¶âșïž
THIS IS SO SWEET????? thank you so much for the kind message!!! i was worried about some parts of it but to see that people actually like it :((( it makes me so happy >w<
i'll be sure to keep up the hard work!! thank you so much again i feel so motivated <33
Today has just not been your day. It's late, you have piles of work to do, and your head is killing you. Your mind is fuzzy with all the thoughts racing inside. Everything is incredibly annoying and you have little to no patience left for anything. "Finally home" you think as you approach your doorstep, unlocking the door and heading inside. Your boyfriend is sitting on the couch and you head straight for him plopping yourself on top of him, laying your head on his lap...
Tartaglia
He will coo and coddle you in a teasing manner but when u respond with nothing but a light groan his mood changes. What's wrong? Did someone hurt you? Who does he need to hurt? He's not used to comforting people, his mind is racing trying to figure out what to do. But it all comes to a halt when he hears a little sniffle from below him.
You turn over so you're now facing up towards him. Tears welling up from your eyes, and his heart breaks. In a swift motion he picks you up and lays you down on top of him, pulling you to his chest. Tartaglia is no good with words, so instead he speaks in actions. He loves you so much, he would do anything for you to smile. It hurts him so much to see his beloved so upset. So he holds you. He holds you in hope that you understand what he wants so badly to say but simply cannot articulate.
Laying in his arms you feel yourself start to relax. He's so warm, and his heart beat is so soothing. Slowly all the worries of the day fade and all you're left with is contentment. Although the tears do not let up, they are not coming out for the same reason. They're from relief. Relieved that you are back in your boyfriends arms. The lump in your throat is finally gone and you're able to speak. "Thank you Ajax." And you feel the arms around you hug tighter.
Wanderer
He has no idea how to react. But his automatic response is to make a snarky comment. "Aww is someone in a bad mood?" He waits for a quick comeback, but that never comes. You just silently lay there, facing away from him. "What gives?" He turns you so he can see your face and he freezes. You were crying, or almost crying, you were trying your best to hold it in. But as soon as your gazes met you broke down.
The wanderer has a whirlwind of emotions flood over him. It has been a long time since he last cared about someone else's feelings. It's a foreign feeling and he doesn't like it. How can he make you happy? Make you smile? Stop this horrible dread he feels seeing you in such a state. So he pulls you close, your head now laying on his shoulder as his arms are wrapped around you, chest to chest.
Intimacy is still a bit awkward for him but he continues to hold you nonetheless. The pressure against your chest and back is comforting, and your tears start to let up. You're finally home, finally in your boyfriends arms. The two of you sit in comfortable silence before he speaks up "I don't like it when you cry." A simple sentence to reassure you that he does, deeply love you.
Thoma
He'll immediately ask if you're okay, if you're hurt? Sick? You attempt to tell him about the very long day you've had but between the whines and sniffles you aren't really able to get it out. "It's okay, we can talk about it later. For now, stay right here." He get's up from his spot, laying you down on the couch. A little whine escaping you as he leaves.
He's in the kitchen for awhile and right as you were getting impatient he came back in. He had prepared you a bowl of your favorite soup! He sets it in front of you, sitting next to you on the couch. You quickly begin to eat it. It's so warm and is made just the way you like it. You can tell that thought went into making this dish. Thoma always remembers even the littlest details. You can feel the tears going away, his hand on your back, gently rubbing up and down.
"How does a hot bath sound, hm?" He gets up, holding your hand, leading you to the bathtub. He prepares the bath for you. It's so soothing and all the tension you had been holding was released. When you get out he dries your hair, brushing it gently, making sure not to hurt you. He shows his love through actions, and all he wishes is that you know how much he cares, and how much he wants you to feel better. You turn around and pull him into an embrace "I love you Thoma." Relieved to know that you understand, he hugs back.
sfw. gn!reader. contains wholesome fluff. comfort fic bc we all need it. established relationship. reader and wanderer are soulmates <3
note: i miss posting little stuff like this every now and then, and since i am in need of comfort, hereâs another wanderer comfort fic :>,, wanderer is also referred as kunikuzushi in this^^
listen to unconditionally by katy perry while reading
âĄ: @kamikoii ilyyyy
âKuni!â
The young wandererâs eyes halted from his steps. Feeling the fresh breeze of spring, the blossoming flowers, and the grass swaying back and forth. Even the soft radiance of the sun is similar to his beloved. And for the first time, Kunikuzushiâs heart leaped.
His gaze softens.
âY/NâŠâ Tears were brought upon calling your name.
Welcoming him in a warm embrace, finding your hands clinging into him â afraid to let go. Burying against his neck, the familiar earthy and lavender scent calms your beating heart. Your words were muffled, but itâs as clear as day for him. âYouâre home.â
He didnât mind that his hat had fallen on the ground. What matters most for him is you.
In return, Kunikuzushi embraced you closer to him. His body grew relaxed the moment you returned in his arms. Oh how he missed you⊠so much.
Smiling softly when you meet his fond gaze on yours, he gently wiped away the tears.
ââŠYou found me.â Laughter resembled sweet melodies, and it sounded sweetly for him. â I canât believe you found me again.â
âI hadâŠâ he confessed, making his cheeks flushed in pink. âA little help.â
âMy heart guided me to you.â
The gentle chimes of his heart made your gaze on the ornament where his heartâs supposed to be. An anemo vision. His anemo vision chimes and glows brightly within your presence. Your feathery touch made his heart leap again. Joyous.
Your smile shines brighter, and he wishes for it to stay that way.
your first argument with al haitham is one you are sure youâll never forget. not because of his piercing words and the cold way he stares back at you, but because of his desperate reassurance. the soft way he held you as apologies were uttered, and the gentle way he cared for every tear you shed.
a/n: waah this is my first fic on this account !! cheers ^^
w/c: ~1.5k
warnings: not proof read (im lazy my bad) mentions of arguments, insecurities. hurt/comfort
al haitham has been in maybe, one relationship before this one, you gather. thereâs a certain coarseness to the way he approaches love and being in love with you that bleeds with lack of experience. it is not a slight against him, in fact, youâd consider it the furthest from that. you are honored to have been so cherished by someone who claims to not have time for trivial things. if al haitham is good at one thing, beyond mathematics or research or memorization, it is making you feel like you are not and will never be âtrivialâ to him. he remembers every date, he recalls every small detail, and he does everything he can, even in his busy schedule to make time for you. because you are the one he chose, and you are beyond his preconceptions about the usefulness and reason for âfalling in love,â or other trifling activities.
so, when he calls you just that -- useless and pointless and trivial, it stings. and it stings for more than an hour, after the silence has settled in your shared living space and dinner has gone cold. it stings every time he looks at you, unable to control his cold and calculating frustration. even by the time said frustration is no longer directed at you but at himself for getting caught up -- for the escalation to petty insults rather than progress towards a natural solution. even as you both stand up and say youâre sorry for hurting each other and promise to listen and care. you are still left stinging. you ache all over, even as you lie in bed with him, his warm arms pulling your form close as you both whisper declarations of retreat, compromise, and love. you close your eyes and take in his scent, woody, almost a bit musky and just a twinge reminiscent of a well kept library. you would find solace here, but you cannot help but ache. your eyes sting with salt and self-admonishment as you sleep, feeling as though the two of you are left further apart than you were before.
itâs been several days now. the sounds of the bustling streets and the near silence of the akademiaâs halls do nothing to comfort your still stirring heart. you see al haitham every day, you tell him you love him every day (because you do, and youâll be damned before the aftermath of a finished argument tells you that you do not). he echoes the same, but still you think
trivial? were you nothing but pointless and foolish? did your beloved boyfriend, in times of distress, think of you as the very things he swore not to make you feel you were? it hurts to feel distant from him, but youâre sure he hasnât noticed. in fact, you think itâs better that he hasnât noticed. heâs a busy, busy man. and, really, he shouldn't be worried about something as frivolous as the way you feel about a pain thatâs passed silently for days. youâll get over it, because youâve already talked and you love him and that should be enough.
but you forget, that al haitham, while not a fool, is foolishly in love with you. he is a man that gets what he needs and what he wants and when there are obstacles in his path he devises clear plans to avoid them. the only thing he would readily admit to making mistakes over is you. you and your smile that lights up his entire world, you and the way you care for him and challenge his mind in the most electrifying way. you who holds him as he sinks into the depths of his mind, and you who promises him eternity, irrational as that may be. so when you distance yourself, drowning in your own hurt, al haitham is planning. your wounds are like aching scars on his back. prickling with pain and a reminder of his failing, not to himself, but his failing to provide you with the world as you deserve. he sits in his office, stiff and cautious. what on earth could it be that has sent you away from him? what sort of thorns have coated your heart and how should he cut through them to get to you?Â
you donât think much of it, when youâre called into al haithamâs office today. you expect nothing more than an update about his findings. youâll walk in, say hello, chat for a time until you realize youâve veered off course and then youâll depart with timid âi love youâs and youâll stare into the silence as you hope for the short moment to lift your heart the way it had before it was wounded. you do not expect to see him staring anxiously at the door as you enter. you do not expect him to run a hand through his pretty gray hair and quietly ask you a question.
âcould you lock the door?â you do, but youâre holding your breath. dread floods your veins and you cannot help but feel intimidated as he stands and approaches you. in an attempt to flee from your racing mind and heart, you change the subject.
âhi, dear. did you need something? i should have given you the report fromââ youâre silenced by the worried look on his face. itâs a foreign expression, one where his shining, always focused eyes dart around you with a mixture of something like fear and hurt, and one where his built arms hang awkwardly at his sides as he figures out what to say first.
âthereâs something wrong,â he starts. your breath hitches and youâre forced to break eye contact. al haitham frowns. âplease donât do that. please look at me.â the plea hurts your chest, but you canât bring yourself to do just that. you try to wave it off.
âthereâs nothingââ but the shake in your voice betrays you. he waits for you to open up. for you to take the first step, because your comfort is his priority, but you can tell with the tension in the air that he will cut through if you do not. al haitham gets what he needs, and what he needs more than life is your happiness. youâre sure of that now, as you look back at his expression, endlessly full of concern for you. you canât bring yourself to lie anymore. âokay, maybe there is something.â
âmay i inquire?â he says it so timidly youâd think heâs another person. you canât stop yourself from sighing.Â
âi just⊠itâs stupid. i donât think itâs worth making a big deal. iâll be over it soon.â the deadpan look on his face says otherwise.
âyou have been⊠apart from your usual self. for longer than three nights. iâm worried about you.â al haithamâs admission is shaking, but resolute. his soothing voice quakes just the slightest bit, but he refuses to back down. you cave at his look, just as you always do.
âiâm just⊠still hurt. over what you said, when we argued? i didnât want you to feel bad since we already moved on from the problem but i keep thinking about it and hearing it in my head. you called me trivial.â al haitham pauses, as if recounting the event. you continue. âi know you probably didnât mean it, but i canât help but think that maybeâŠâ
âstop,â he says with a gentleness reserved only for you. he places his hands gently on your shoulders while silently asking for permission in his gaze to pull you close. you nod, and suddenly his hand is patting the back of your head softly, as if youâre the most cherished being in the universe itself.
âiâm sorry. iâm so sorry.â you feel your eyes welling up with tears as he holds you close and admits fault. he pulls away slightly, but only to dry your tears with his thumb.
âyou are everything to me. and it was only foolish of me to have allowed things to progress to this point. i would move mountains and slay the worst of foes just to see you happy. i have taken away part of your smile, even for a second. and for that i am so sorry.â
there is a tenderness in his eyes. you couldnât imagine a more beautiful expression if you tried, and it is then that you realize he is not used to wearing this expression. he is clumsy in the way he squeezes you, and although he is intelligent, he is also inept in maintaining his usual aloofness as he reassures you that you will never be a waste of his time. it is then too, that you notice the fear squandering his composure as he promises to love you for what may be the millionth time.
you relax and while you cry in his arms, you allow al haithamâs affirming word into your heart, never to be shaken again.
"babe, im toxic during comp games to everyone except  â§youâ§â
synposis: kuniâs just a little mad because childe sucks at competitive video games and he just needs a quick breather âĄ
warnings: swearing, but itâs only in the beginning bc kuni is tilted af lmao, childeâs name name
a/n: god i love gamer kuni. heâs just an all round lil shit, but is just a big softie for his special person. streamer kuni next? this could have been smut so fast omfg ///
âHow are you this fucking bad?â
âHoly fuck, he was STANDING RIGHT THERE-â
âAjax, I mean this with every inch, ounce, and molecule in my body. You are god awful-â
Your boyfriendâs rage broke the silence in your shared apartment. Moments like these are frequent; when you were busy scrolling on your phone and snuggling on his cat themed bean bag near him and his PC, Kunikuzushi was frequently slamming his hand on the table and mashing his keyboard because Ajax died again-
â-actually good at this game. Unlike you, I donât play characters in competitive I know Iâm shit at-â
In the corner of your eye, you notice his hand slip from the table, fumbling in the air as if he was looking for something. His hand clumsily lands on your head and you blinked, tilting your head at him, wordlessly asking, âdo you need something?â. Kunikuzushi doesnât pay you mind, just ruffling your hair little too roughly for your liking.
You grumbled at the fact he was messing up your hair, but you continued to scroll anyways. He notes your sound of displeasure and lifts his hand off your head, but his hand continues to hover. The gremlin next to you in his chair with his cat ears headset finally turns his head to face you. He rests his chin on his palm as he gives a loud, exhale. He squints as he gives you a pointed look. His other hand travels to his head, running his hand through his bangs, ruffling up his own hair. Your boyfriend looks disheveled and a little pissed, but boy, he always looked cute. Especially when the cat ears are lit up blue-
âI thought you said Ajax was good at this game.â Kunikuzushi says plainly, his right brow quirked up. âIâm pretty sure my mom is better at this gameâŠâ
âWell, he looked like he was pulling his weight when he was showing off to me the other day.â You mutter, sitting up in the bean bag. The fake leather fabric makes the iconic fart-like noise and your boyfriend grimaces when everyone in his call starts howling, âyo, did Scara just rip hella ass-â. He quickly slams his finger on the âmuteâ and âdeafenâ keys.
He purses his lips and gives a small sigh, but his eyes soften at you. His hand mindlessly wanders back onto the top of your head. His shoulders slacken as the seconds pass, tension evaporating the longer his fingers dance and fiddle with your hair.
âDonât you want to play?â You ask softly, my eyes drifting to the profile pictures of his friends sitting in the gameâs lobby. You lean into his touch a little more. Normally, youâre also seated a few feet away from Kunikuzushi, playing whatever game had your attention for the night. But tonight, you felt like just chilling by his side. ââŠor are you getting too tilted for tonight?â You ask with a small grin.
He hums, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. âOh, Iâm absolutely seething right now. I just need a breather, so let me have my moment with you.â He pauses and gives you a haughty look. âSo, oblige me.â
You crinkle your nose. Some hair fell on your face from his stress relieving tousling, but he quickly moves it away from your face. âHonestly, Kuni? Youâre so toxic while you play.â You laugh and gaze at him. âIâve honestly never seen you like that. Itâs kinda funny, but Iâm glad you donât talk to me like that when we play together.â
He smirks a little and presses back into his seat, clasping his hands together, finally ending his head scratches and petting. âWell, Iâm definitely not the nicest person, but I donât want to rude to you. Youâre special.â Before you could awe at his cute words, he immediately ruins the moment. âYouâre not as good as me, but youâre miles better than Ajax,â he explains as a mischievous glint sparkles in his eye, ââŠso, I hide my toxicity from you and let it out on him.â
You roll yours eyes and sink back into the bean bag, but the corners of your mouth curl up anyways. âLittle shitâ, you thought to yourself.
He pouts a little when he notices youâre out of reach, but he takes that as a sign to end his break. Kuni straightens up in his seat and lets out a quiet huff, unmuting and undeafening his audio. Immediately, the muffled sounds of all of your mutual friends echo through his headset and Kuni audibly groans and tells everyone to shut up and start the queue. The light atmosphere the two of you built instantly dissipated, but that had little affect on the small smile on your face and Kuniâs temporarily relaxed posture.
Kuni tilts his head down at you once last time as the loading screen popped up.
Once your eyes meet, he quickly waves âhiâ and mouths an âI love youâ .
Ëâ· ÍÍÍÍâłâ„ Summary: itâs late at night, and you find yourself deep in school work. Luckily, your best friend offers to keep you company, but is he really just a friend?
Ëâ· ÍÍÍÍâłâ„ Cw: friends to lovers, confessions, college au.
Ëâ· ÍÍÍÍâłâ„ Authorâs note: huge thanks to my dearest friend @bunny-rambles for reading this beforehand. Iâm so, so glad you liked the little details !
reblogs and comments help more than likes !
ËËË ê° Kaedehara Kazuha
A call of your name awakens you for the thousandth time tonight.
With eyes droopy, and the shadow of a yawn on your lips, you sit a little straighter.
He always makes your heartbeat quicken, after all.
Kazuha. Your best friend, everyoneâs favorite boy in campus and the one youâve fallen for.
âExhausting yourself like that is no good, hummingbird.â
As if that damned childhood nickname wasnât enough, his hands move to your shoulders, making you start.
You clear your throat. Then, slumping over your desk, you mumble:
âI have to finish this tonight, Kazuha. The due dateâs tomorrow.â
Yet your words seem to contradict your actions, for your lashes unavoidably flutter closed.
Momentarily, the words in front of you disappear, replaced by warm sunsets behind your eyelids and the scent of coffee.
Kazuha chuckles, one of his hands moving to rest atop your troubled head.
âHere, drink this.â He murmurs, pushing a just made cup of coffee in front of you.
Itâs your favorite.
With your cheek smushed against your crossed arms, you look up at him.
And you swear Kazuhaâs smile alone is brighter than the thousands of glittery pinpricks visible through the window. His eyes are the sunset youâd like to walk into, and his hair reminds you of the moonlight under which you wish you could kiss him.
You love Kazuha. You want him. Not just as a friend.
Your mouth opens to thank him.
They say, there are occasions in which planets align to tie fated lovers by the threads of time that constellates every image in the firmament. The next statement to leave your lips would present a perfect example of it.
âI love you.â Spells itself in your own voice before you can process what you are saying. Then, a gasp leaves your lips, hands flailing to cover your face.
âW-wait no, thatâs notâŠâ his hand cupping your cheek makes all coherent sound die in your throat.
âThatâs not what you meant?â He teases, finger pads smoothing over your cheekbones. âI would be saddened if that was the case, dove.â He whispers, platinum starlit strands tickling your forehead.
His breath fans your already heated face, those lips of his magnetizing, tempting.
You canât hold back. And neither can he.
Your wish of kissing him in the moonlight becomes true tonight.
The coffee goes cold.
ËËË ê° Xiao
Itâs already pitch dark when you hear him arrive.
As always, you run to the front door to open even before heâs had time to pull his motorcycle helmet off.
âXiao!â you exclaim, somehwere between excitement and surprise. âYou actually came!â Your words muffle against his shoulder, where your face has decided to nuzzle into.
You fail to notice it, but his cheeks are the same pink of the cherry blossoms you liked to use to make flower crowns for him.
âOf course I did. I already told you, didnât I? That if you need anything, call. Besides, itâs not the first time weâve hung out at 3 am.â He huffs, golden eyes averted to the side.
âYeah but we meet up to game or watch movies, not because of some lame essay.â You whine.
Xiao exhales, exasperation overpowered by his growing smile.
âCome on, letâs go inside before you catch a cold.â He urges, hand hovering over the small of your back, not quite daring to touch you.
Yet that little gesture alone is enough for the chill of the night to be forgotten, knees going weak, heart wildly spreading untamed fiery butterflies through your bloodstream.
â[Y/n], come on, focus.â Your friend urges yet again. Your gaze is lost in the teal colored ink of the swirling pattern tattooed on Xiaoâs right arm. Since he got it when you two had barely graduated high school, youâve always seemed entranced by it.
âIncomprehensible.â Is what he used to say, every time your fingertips ghosted over the intricate lines. But the carmine that painted on his cheeks confirmed his true feelings.
He really liked it, he likes it, your touch.
He likes you.
âBut Iâm tiredâŠâ you complain, absentmindedly, pads caressing his arm. Gosh, Xiao hopes you donât notice the shivers and goosebumps you cause on him.
Playfully, the boy softly bonks you on the head with the stack of papers you have to memorize.
âYou should sleep, then.â He points out. âIâve told you you shouldnât stay up so late.â
âSays you!â You smirk, squeezing his arm, gaze momentarily lost in his molten honey eyes. âBesides, I like you.â
A gasp leaves your mouth at the same moment scarlet creeps up Xiaoâs neck, expanding through his cheeks to the tip of his pierced ears.
âS-sorry! I mean, I like this, hanging out with you, at night. Because itâs with you, so itâs fun and I like yo- it.â You bring a hand to your forehead. âActually, Iâm making it worse⊠What I mean to say i-â
Anything else you might have wanted to add goes unsaid.
No more words are needed anyway, not when Xiaoâs lips smash against your own, making obvious any feeling concealed until now.
His hands find your hips, laying you down on the couch, as yours lose in the dark silky strands of his jade colored hair.
In the dim lighting, both his eyes and tattoo seem to glow, akin to fireflies headed only to you.
Itâs dawn when your alarm clock goes off. As always, you hit snooze. But this time, you get to curl up in the embrace of your boyfriend for five more minutes.
ËËË ê° Scaramouche
âWrong again.â Scaramouche sighs, for the nth time today. Why did he even decide to sign up to help you study will probably remain a mystery to him.
Well, not exactly a mystery, given he knows what he feels for you is past platonic at this point. But is he going to admit that to himself, let alone, to you?
Not if he has a say in the matter.
âOhâŠâ you mutter, gaze cast downwards, a pout Scaramouche shouldnât be thinking of kissing off right now on your lips.
In an attempt to feign annoyance, Scaramouche huffs, taking the notebook from you to show you the right way to solve the exercise.
You try to concentrate on the homework, but, almost hypnotically, your eyes are drawn to your friendâs hands. The way his tendons and veins protrude every time his grip on the pen tightens; the apparent softness of their pristine skin; the pretty contrast of his black nail polish against the pallor of his complexion; the coolness of the silver rings he wears against your skinâŠ
Wait. You shouldnât be able to feel that.
His voice breaks anything resembling your possible line of thought.
His âWhat are you doing?â falls over you like a freezing rain in the dead of night.
Your eyes widen when you catch sight of your hand on top of Scaramoucheâs free one, idly playing with his rings.
In your rush retracting it, you fail to notice the boyâs face lighting up in the same shade as his signature red eyeliner.
âI-I⊠Sorry.â You manage to squeak, your own face burning up, heartbeat loud in your ears.
âYou⊠you didnât listen to anything I said at all, did you?â He asks, eyes of midnight lit blooms averted to the side.
You shake your head, fiddling with your fingers over your lap. Gods, you wish the earth would swallow you right now.
He sighs, then:
âYou are lucky I love you.â
Now itâs Scaramoucheâs turn to wish he could be swallowed by the ground.
Wide eyed gazes cross in the room, both your heartbeats at a standstill, waiting for the tidal wave to either pass or break furiously.
âYou-â âI-â You both start at the same time.
He frowns. You have to contain the grin lighting up your face in technicolor.
âYeah, I like you, okay?â Scaramouche finally grumbles, dusk hyacinth gaze shadowed by the indigo stardust of his hair.
âWhat was that, Kuni?â You tease, all efforts to hide your smile flying out the window. âI donât think I heard you.â You relish in the masterpiece in crimson that is his face, the haughty and proud Scaramouche at a loss for words.
âYou⊠Get the next question right and maybe Iâll repeat it. Dummy.â He murmurs, his own lips curling to match the smiling moon in the starry sky.
ËËË ê° Albedo
Maybe, texting your friend (who you are very much in love with) begging him to keep you company tonight is proving to be completely and utterly unproductive. Whatever concentration you might have achieved is akin to snow illuminated in gilded rays, helplessly melting away every time your eyes land on his figure.
Calm, cool and collected, the picture perfect image of a golden prince. Albedoâs sunlit frozen lake eyes scan his own research papers, expression apparently phlegmatic and unaware of your shameless staring.
Yet, behind the beautiful portrait he exposes, mischief abounds, especially when it comes to you.
âAre you sure youâre working on your essay?â He asks, without tearing his gaze away from his work.
At his question, you start, the remains of the soda you were drinking almost spilling all over your laptop.
âO-of course I am!â You laugh nervously, trying to make sense of the last sentence you wrote. To no avail, for your eyes have decided to be ruled over by your heart tonight, unavoidably getting lost in the man sitting across from you.
âIs that so?â Albedo teases, leaning forward, chin resting in one of his hands. âBecause Iâd dare say,â he continues, teal gaze lighting up, lips curved in an all too knowing smirk. âSomething else is getting your attention tonight.â
A few instants pass, with the world at a standstill, not even the exhales of your breath interrupting the enchanted tension of this moment.
âN-no, what?â You try for a laugh once again. âI-Iâm totally focused on this essay. Yes, what else could beâŠâ
You trail off, any remotely coherent utterances dying in your lips when Albedoâs knuckle wipes away from them stray droplets of your drink.
âYou were saying?â He has the nerve to ask, sitting now beside you, head titled to the side, locks of blonde hair you wish to mess up as you kiss him breathless slightly falling in front of that devilishly pretty face of his.
âY-you, I⊠You- You keep distracting me!â You sputter, finally, cheeks ablaze, breath labored when you try to down more of your energy drink down.
A hand resting atop the can youâre holding ceases your movements.
And when you look at him, Albedoâs eyes resemble northern lights in a not yet sunlit dawn, surrounded by the icy halo of his sky blue irises.
âThen, the feelingâs mutual.â He whispers, in the breathless millimeters separating you two. âMay I?â Is the question your lips answer with a âyesâ when they meet his halfway.
Perhaps tonight wasnât a waste at all, you would think to yourself, hours later, as you delicately caress Albedoâs jawline before falling into dreamy slumber by his side.
your first argument with al haitham is one you are sure youâll never forget. not because of his piercing words and the cold way he stares back at you, but because of his desperate reassurance. the soft way he held you as apologies were uttered, and the gentle way he cared for every tear you shed.
a/n: waah this is my first fic on this account !! cheers ^^
w/c: ~1.5k
warnings: not proof read (im lazy my bad) mentions of arguments, insecurities. hurt/comfort
al haitham has been in maybe, one relationship before this one, you gather. thereâs a certain coarseness to the way he approaches love and being in love with you that bleeds with lack of experience. it is not a slight against him, in fact, youâd consider it the furthest from that. you are honored to have been so cherished by someone who claims to not have time for trivial things. if al haitham is good at one thing, beyond mathematics or research or memorization, it is making you feel like you are not and will never be âtrivialâ to him. he remembers every date, he recalls every small detail, and he does everything he can, even in his busy schedule to make time for you. because you are the one he chose, and you are beyond his preconceptions about the usefulness and reason for âfalling in love,â or other trifling activities.
so, when he calls you just that -- useless and pointless and trivial, it stings. and it stings for more than an hour, after the silence has settled in your shared living space and dinner has gone cold. it stings every time he looks at you, unable to control his cold and calculating frustration. even by the time said frustration is no longer directed at you but at himself for getting caught up -- for the escalation to petty insults rather than progress towards a natural solution. even as you both stand up and say youâre sorry for hurting each other and promise to listen and care. you are still left stinging. you ache all over, even as you lie in bed with him, his warm arms pulling your form close as you both whisper declarations of retreat, compromise, and love. you close your eyes and take in his scent, woody, almost a bit musky and just a twinge reminiscent of a well kept library. you would find solace here, but you cannot help but ache. your eyes sting with salt and self-admonishment as you sleep, feeling as though the two of you are left further apart than you were before.
itâs been several days now. the sounds of the bustling streets and the near silence of the akademiaâs halls do nothing to comfort your still stirring heart. you see al haitham every day, you tell him you love him every day (because you do, and youâll be damned before the aftermath of a finished argument tells you that you do not). he echoes the same, but still you think
trivial? were you nothing but pointless and foolish? did your beloved boyfriend, in times of distress, think of you as the very things he swore not to make you feel you were? it hurts to feel distant from him, but youâre sure he hasnât noticed. in fact, you think itâs better that he hasnât noticed. heâs a busy, busy man. and, really, he shouldn't be worried about something as frivolous as the way you feel about a pain thatâs passed silently for days. youâll get over it, because youâve already talked and you love him and that should be enough.
but you forget, that al haitham, while not a fool, is foolishly in love with you. he is a man that gets what he needs and what he wants and when there are obstacles in his path he devises clear plans to avoid them. the only thing he would readily admit to making mistakes over is you. you and your smile that lights up his entire world, you and the way you care for him and challenge his mind in the most electrifying way. you who holds him as he sinks into the depths of his mind, and you who promises him eternity, irrational as that may be. so when you distance yourself, drowning in your own hurt, al haitham is planning. your wounds are like aching scars on his back. prickling with pain and a reminder of his failing, not to himself, but his failing to provide you with the world as you deserve. he sits in his office, stiff and cautious. what on earth could it be that has sent you away from him? what sort of thorns have coated your heart and how should he cut through them to get to you?Â
you donât think much of it, when youâre called into al haithamâs office today. you expect nothing more than an update about his findings. youâll walk in, say hello, chat for a time until you realize youâve veered off course and then youâll depart with timid âi love youâs and youâll stare into the silence as you hope for the short moment to lift your heart the way it had before it was wounded. you do not expect to see him staring anxiously at the door as you enter. you do not expect him to run a hand through his pretty gray hair and quietly ask you a question.
âcould you lock the door?â you do, but youâre holding your breath. dread floods your veins and you cannot help but feel intimidated as he stands and approaches you. in an attempt to flee from your racing mind and heart, you change the subject.
âhi, dear. did you need something? i should have given you the report fromââ youâre silenced by the worried look on his face. itâs a foreign expression, one where his shining, always focused eyes dart around you with a mixture of something like fear and hurt, and one where his built arms hang awkwardly at his sides as he figures out what to say first.
âthereâs something wrong,â he starts. your breath hitches and youâre forced to break eye contact. al haitham frowns. âplease donât do that. please look at me.â the plea hurts your chest, but you canât bring yourself to do just that. you try to wave it off.
âthereâs nothingââ but the shake in your voice betrays you. he waits for you to open up. for you to take the first step, because your comfort is his priority, but you can tell with the tension in the air that he will cut through if you do not. al haitham gets what he needs, and what he needs more than life is your happiness. youâre sure of that now, as you look back at his expression, endlessly full of concern for you. you canât bring yourself to lie anymore. âokay, maybe there is something.â
âmay i inquire?â he says it so timidly youâd think heâs another person. you canât stop yourself from sighing.Â
âi just⊠itâs stupid. i donât think itâs worth making a big deal. iâll be over it soon.â the deadpan look on his face says otherwise.
âyou have been⊠apart from your usual self. for longer than three nights. iâm worried about you.â al haithamâs admission is shaking, but resolute. his soothing voice quakes just the slightest bit, but he refuses to back down. you cave at his look, just as you always do.
âiâm just⊠still hurt. over what you said, when we argued? i didnât want you to feel bad since we already moved on from the problem but i keep thinking about it and hearing it in my head. you called me trivial.â al haitham pauses, as if recounting the event. you continue. âi know you probably didnât mean it, but i canât help but think that maybeâŠâ
âstop,â he says with a gentleness reserved only for you. he places his hands gently on your shoulders while silently asking for permission in his gaze to pull you close. you nod, and suddenly his hand is patting the back of your head softly, as if youâre the most cherished being in the universe itself.
âiâm sorry. iâm so sorry.â you feel your eyes welling up with tears as he holds you close and admits fault. he pulls away slightly, but only to dry your tears with his thumb.
âyou are everything to me. and it was only foolish of me to have allowed things to progress to this point. i would move mountains and slay the worst of foes just to see you happy. i have taken away part of your smile, even for a second. and for that i am so sorry.â
there is a tenderness in his eyes. you couldnât imagine a more beautiful expression if you tried, and it is then that you realize he is not used to wearing this expression. he is clumsy in the way he squeezes you, and although he is intelligent, he is also inept in maintaining his usual aloofness as he reassures you that you will never be a waste of his time. it is then too, that you notice the fear squandering his composure as he promises to love you for what may be the millionth time.
you relax and while you cry in his arms, you allow al haithamâs affirming word into your heart, never to be shaken again.
