the arrangement - gojo satoru was a notorious man across the land. he was the strongest soldier the north had ever produced, the most brilliant of minds, and somebody who slept his way through the noble ranks. his parents set him up in a marriage agreement with you, hoping that a tie with a ring would help save his marriage. you know gojo never wanted this, and you try to act as if that was normal. but soon, without you or even him realizing it, he comes to the conclusion that while he never wanted this marriage - he’s beginning to want you. (18+)
the arrangement, act two - life was going well. better than you could have ever imagined. the whirlwind marriage between you and gojo satoru that started as an arrangement blossomed into something sweeter and more tender after you both fell in love. but that storybook life you've been living soon shatters when you're told that a bitter king wants you two to separate so gojo could marry his daughter. either that, or he promises a war to follow. you live between selfishness and sacrifice as the fate of the kingdoms rests in your, and your husband's hands.
drabbles: (act one)
gojo never wanted to marry
gojo finds out you weren't supposed to marry him
watching him train
the moments after you two got married
he sees you not wearing your ring
he interrupts you while you're baking
he leaves and you think he won't be coming back
lovey gojo
when you two first met
he's huge
what he thinks
another moment from your teens
a little inexperienced (and that's ok!)
gojo is hyper-masculine
you see him with another girl
what happens after you see him with another girl
gojo introduces you to shoko
what happens when gojo's forced to put up with your family
jealous reader (petty gojo)
your birthday
arguing with him
drabbles (act two)
the news
arranged marriage!gojo tag (everything to do with him)
The updated master list of one of the best written gojo’s I’ve personally seen. Nezu truly understands the assignment 😭 I loved every Drabble and really tried my best to savour every word. Finding Nezu’s work is truly akin to striking gold🥹🫶
Summary: For two people that love to read, words seem like a complex.
Word Count: 13k (yeah… this is slow burn, might want to get a drink and snack)
Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Slow Burn, Smut(r18+), NSFW, MDNI, Fluff, Angst kind heavy?, Modern AU, Omegaverse AU, A/B/O relationships, slow fic, marriage, arranged pairing, dubcon, themes about not liking yourself, TW: gender dysphoria (you don’t like your secondary gender), TW: Very vague and brief mentions to possible past domestic trauma, Jealous!alhaitham, slight yandere!alhaitham, mutual pining, miscommunication, breeding, biting, ruts, Alpha!alhaitham, Beta!reader. You agreed to the pairing due to tax benefits. A lot of references to literature.
Authors note: This is my first attempt at slow burn and yeah… I got carried away. I want to explore how slow alhaitham would open up and how love can come from the mind instead of the heart. Enjoy.
gn reader. sfw / fluff. alhaitham writes you a note in the morning. domestic scenario. you stayed over. he’s very in love and i hope that translates. ₊ 𓂃 masterlist.
It was quite often that ALHAITHAM found himself waking up before you in the morning, his natural body clock seemingly working against him when it came to allowing him a later lie in.
Though for some reason, he doesn’t seem to mind all that much as he rests on his pillows— flicking quietly through the pages of his book as you still rest peacefully to his side, breathing gently. Despite the way he’s been enjoying the words on the pages in front of him, he can’t help but find his concentration wavering— instead casting glances towards you, curious yet admiring looks that have him reading the same sentence a few too many times for him to have even taken any of it in.
Until eventually, he relents, and Alhaitham finally opts to bookmark his chapter before gently turning himself to face you, propping himself up on his side as he ensures not to disturb you with his movement.
You seem to be quite comfortable as you rest with your cheek pressed against your pillow, your lips are parted and your lashes seem to flutter cutely with your every breath. Like you’re looking around in a dream, he feels like he’s in one right now.
Part of him wants to reach out to brush his fingertips along your cheeks, to press a kiss into your hairline or smear one against your temple. Maybe even to pull you closer despite his looming responsibilities, he even gets as far as to let his fingertips outstretch. But then he watches the way your brows furrow adorably and he can’t help but let them rest there.
So alternatively, as to ensure he doesn’t wake you, Alhaitham opts to allow himself another few moments by your side instead, to admire you, even if only just like this. To let his viridescent gaze flicker across your features as he memorises your soft skin.
Until the moments turn into minutes and it takes much of Alhaitham’s strong will to push himself away from you, closer to the edge of the bed rather than closer to you like he wishes to. Though it’s not without a few more lingering looks over his shoulder as he stretches out the fatigue from his muscles, he wonders what you’re dreaming of.
His morning routine consists of much of the same as always,
Alhaitham gets himself dressed to go to the Akademiya quite quickly after his shower, only opting to satiate himself with a coffee in the morning. But for some reason, he seems to find himself looming in the doorway to his bedroom more times than usual, finding excuses to enter under the guise of looking for something misplaced. Really, he’s checking to see if you’re awake yet; if you need anything, if you’re waiting to pull him back to bed with you for a few extra moments.
Maybe if you were to catch him right now, he’d let you.
But instead, you’re still sleeping gently, And Alhaitham thinks you look quite pretty like this; your features are more relaxed than the adorable smiles and teasing glances he’s used to. Theyre pressing into the fabric of his pillow case and he finds himself hoping they’re soft enough for you, he likes the way they’re beginning to smell like your shampoo.
He even found himself tucking in the comforter over you, to ensure you’ll still be warm in his absence— though it may translate as no more than an excuse for him to spend a little more time by your side. Its further emphasised by the way he finds himself resting there, transfixed on the gentle rise and fall of your chest and your steady breaths.
It’s not like him to get like this, he’s sure Kaveh would have a lot to say if he seen him being so soft, though he doubts he’d believe it in the first place. It’s true, the feeling was something he was unfamiliar with, but he didn’t hate it nor find it much of a hassle. Well, maybe only when it would affect his focus, you seemed to have a funny way of ending up on his mind no matter what he was doing.
He often finds himself wondering if you’re content with the relationship he’s able to give you. Despite his confidence in his intellect, it was far more difficult to feel as reassured about his romantic compatibility. He was never one for the grand gestures or public displays of affection, and he hopes that you don’t feel that to be a sacrifice of the finer things in life.
Alhaitham may not be the type to kiss you in a crowd of people, but he was the type to find you in one.
But because he does love you, and he wants to try, he finds himself sorting through the endless piles of books and documents in his home for a stray piece of paper as he grabs his pen. And he lets it rest on the table infront of him as his eyes narrow down at it.
He was never good at this, with his words— though he finds himself writing a little more than a regular letter for anyone else would normally entail. There was a lot he could say, to compliment about you or tease at because he liked the way it made you smile. He wishes he could weave his love for you beneath every stroke of ink. But for now, he hopes this’ll translate in the same way.
Alhaitham keeps his footsteps light as he returns to your bedside to slide the folded piece of paper onto the table at your side. And he’ll offer you one last lingering look before he goes, something inside of him silently hoping that you’ll wake up in time for him to kiss you goodbye, but even when that’s not the case,
Loving you feels like enough anyway.
You wake up not long after he leaves, but it’s still late enough for his usual lingering body heat to have dissipated almost completely from his previous space in the mattress. The realisation makes you huff as you stretch, a small, drowsy sound slipping from beneath your lips as you do.
You shift to your side as you feel the previously tucked blankets around you pull from beneath your body, and it makes you smile to yourself when you realise Alhaitham must’ve done it before he left. You go back to pushing yourself a little closer to the edge of the bed to feel around for his clock with your next thought, making a curious sound when you find it, though not as you’re sure it was left previously.
It seems to have been pushed closer to your sleeping figure, like he’d known you’d reach for it first. But it’s also accompanied by a small note that finds its way into your hands before that when you pull yourself back.
Your eyes linger on the small piece of paper as you open it, your fingers tracing across the familiar cursive and you feel something begin to squeeze in your chest as you read.
“ You seemed to be sleeping quite soundly so I opted to let you rest. Should you require me however, you need only call. Don’t forget to enjoy a meal and factor the ongoing celebrations from the Sabzeruz Festival into your route home this morning, though i’m quite confident in your abilities, I would hate for you to run into any trouble while i’m gone.
Speaking of which, should you have some free time this evening, we could enjoy it together. I’ll be sure to leave some time aside in my schedule.
I’ll admit i’ve been awake for quite some time already. Yet, I find myself feeling fine despite that.
pairing: wolf!toji fushiguro x reader
summary: wolfhybrid!toji, grumpy x sunshine again, animalistic behavior, bickering
rheya’s note: man i couldn’t stop thinking about guard dog toji so it turned into a hybrid au! i can’t see him as anything but a wolf/dog tbh. anyways i will def be writing more for this au hehe <33
you’ve been hearing noises.
it sounds strange, but you’re sure that there is something lurking in the normally deserted alleyway next to your apartment. at first you brushed it off as people traveling through, but now you've noticed the sounds are constant—every night.
you’re eating dinner when you hear the sounds of scuffling, followed by the yowl of a cat and realize you’re probably dealing with a stray looking for food.
so after you finish your meal, you put a bit of leftover fish in an old plate you seldom use, and take it outside. when you peer into the dark alley you don’t see any cat—it’s empty and quiet. you do notice a few scrapes on the walls and a couple of trash bins overturned, which means there definitely was some animal here.
maybe it’ll come back, you think as you bend down and place the plate on the pavement. with one last backward glance at the deserted alleyway, you head inside and go to bed.
a fond smile stretches across your face when you notice the empty plate as you’re leaving for work the next morning.
it becomes a daily routine after that. every night before you go to bed you go out and leave a little plate of fish for the poor cat. and every morning you’re met with a licked clean plate.
even though you never do see the cat, you do feel a strange combination of accomplishment and affection for the poor thing. and your little routine runs smoothly for a couple weeks—you have no complaints.
and then one night, when you’re going to drop off your little ration of the day, you see him. despite being hunched in a corner, he looms infinitely large—heavy shoulders and muscles straining as they fill with tension at your presence. his eyes are strangely bright, crystalline jade narrowed into slits as they appraise you, teeth bared in feral anger. they snap and snarl at you in warning, and you freeze almost immediately.
he’s terrifying—in a strangely gorgeous way.
dark furry ears are pointed up straight, twitching with the sound of your movements, and a warning growl bounces over the walls.
you raise your hands, ignoring the tremble, the instinct to run. “i just…” you keep your voice low, choosing to lightly shake the little plate you have in your hand. green eyes dart over—another snarl, a flick of a tail.
you slowly crouch and place the plate onto the ground, before backing away—you’re not trying to get attacked by a clearly feral hybrid.
he snarls and growls until you are well out of sight.
when you’re back in the safety of your apartment you almost laugh, heart pounding with disbelief. you thought you’d been feeding a stray cat—but no, it’s a hybrid. a big one, predatory in all aspects. you couldn’t see much in the dark lighting of the alley but the ears looked distinctly canine—with the addition of the teeth, claws, and tail, you’re almost sure he is some kind of dog or wolf or whatever.
dangerous for sure.
sensibly, you should probably stop feeding him so he doesn’t stick around. but stupidly, you can’t help it.
the next night you leave another plate. he’s not there this time, but you leave it just in case he’s lurking.
the following night his green eyes remain narrowed on your figure as you return—still snarling as he watches you.
you’re not fazed.
(tell that to your racing heart.)
over the course of the next few weeks, you repeat this process, not really sure what you’re expecting. you suppose you should be grateful that he doesn’t growl as much anymore, seemingly becoming accustomed to your routine presence. it becomes clockwork, so much so that you can always expect him to be sitting in the alley, ears flicking at the sounds of your footsteps.
the plate has now been saved for his little nightly meals, something you don’t necessarily mind. you notice that he is always clad in the same tattered clothing, a dark shirt that is far too loose even on his large body—it is littered with dirt and holes and you wish it was easier to offer some more comfortable items to him.
but you’ve only just gotten him to stop viewing you as a threat; you’ll take it slow.
you don’t notice that he gradually waits closer and closer to where he knows you leave the plate, the distance diminishing in a display of semi trust.
you think that this is all you’ll really get from him. which is fine—you’d rather he remain silent and alive than dead from starvation in your alleyway.
he surprises you one night.
“no more fish.”
you pause in your tracks, a few measly centimeters away from putting the plate on the ground. your eyes dart upward to see him already staring at you, jade slits narrowed. his tail flicks lazily in the shadows. your voice is breathless when you ask, “w-what?”
“fish,” he repeats. “no more of it.”
his voice is a low rumble, deep in richness and timbre despite its evidence of not being used in a while. you glance down at the plate in confusion—he had eaten it all for these few weeks?
he reaches for the plate, digging into the fish with practiced ease. you watch his canines dig into the flesh and tear away like it’s mere paper.
(should you be scared that the fish could also be your throat?)
“you uh—” you clear you throat, staring at him. “you don’t like fish?”
“i can survive off it,” he spits out in between bites—his pupils find yours. “but it’s not great.”
you don’t know why you’re so eager to make him happy. “then what would you like to eat?”
he quirks a brow at the enthusiasm, but answers gruffly. “meat. real meat.” he pauses to run his tongue over his lips, satiated—you can see a scar cutting over them. “like lamb. or beef. i don’t care really.”
“i can do that!” you’re seriously embarrassed at how keen you are, but the progress you’re making excites you. “i should’ve considered what you’d naturally like to eat. you’re a…?”
“wolf,” he grunts, still focused on his meal.
“right.” you nod, grateful to have confirmed the species. “makes sense you’d prefer real meat.”
he doesn’t answer. you don’t mind.
“then i’ll get you something different tomorrow.” you turn to leave. once again he doesn’t answer, but you can feel his eyes boring holes into your back.
you don’t tell the wolf hybrid that you stayed up researching his species just to figure out what he’d like. you just place the plate down the next night, hoping that it is enough to make him feel a little more comfortable with you.
(you’re sure he could kill you with just one bite, but you try not to think about that.)
the wolf watches you present the plate of lamb meat, some pieces cooked and some raw—his tail slowly thumps against the ground.
“i um…know that wolves like deer and stuff, but getting deer meat nearby is a little difficult. i can probably go find some places over the weekend,” you say hesitantly, watching his expression. he reaches a large palm out, claws tugging the plate closer, and digs in. you’re not sure about the taste, but you can see the rise in enthusiasm as he gobbles the meat down—a smile twitches at your lips.
“it’s fine,” he mumbles in return. “deer’s expensive. i like lamb and chicken. beef too.”
you nod, surprised at the consideration for the money you’re spending.
“do…do you prefer it raw or cooked?” you wait for him to click his tongue or indicate he’s getting annoyed by your presence, but he’s feeling forthcoming tonight.
“either’s fine.” he licks up the pinkish liquid that has dripped down his chin while biting into the raw pieces. “i’m used to raw meat.”
you nod, slowly taking a seat on the pavement. his eyes flicker up to watch what you’re doing, but he doesn’t protest. he just picks up another piece of lamb and takes a bite.
“you cook this?” he grunts, waving one of the cooked pieces. you grimace, nodding sheepishly.
“yeah. i wasn't sure if you'd like raw meat or cooked so i brought both. i can just bring raw pieces from now on.”
he peers at the cooked meat in between his claws, before shaking his head gruffly. “it’s pretty good.”
“the cooked meat?” you ask in surprise. he nods.
“yeah. tastes good.”
you can’t help the grin that stretches across your face.
“the fuck are you smilin’ about?” he narrows his eyes at you, ears pointing upright. you drop the smile hastily, shaking your head with a start.
“nothing!”
he snorts, continuing to eat. you watch him do so, strangely content. he doesn’t comment on how you’re seemingly inspecting him, eyes unblinking. he keeps his mouth shut because the taste of meat is heavy on his tongue, and at this point you’re a godsend to an animal like him.
so if you want to observe him like he’s in a fucking zoo, he’s fine with that.
you do have horrible survival instincts though. he wonders why on earth you seem so comfortable around a predator like him, especially a species that is so known to be violent. you’re just sitting there, a mere five feet away, watching him tear into raw meat with stars in your eyes.
(he could tear you apart in a second if he wanted to.)
he doesn’t leave a morsel on the plate, and you give him that same silly smile again.
“i have a little bit more cooked lamb leftover if you want?” you question him, and his eyes lazily roam over you. he thinks about telling you that he could devour meat for much longer if the supply was endless, but instead he huffs.
“did you eat?”
you blink. “me?”
“yeah you,” he replies harshly, rolling his eyes. “did you eat?”
you awkwardly scratch at your arm. “not yet. i was gonna eat some instant noodles later.”
“why the fuck are you worried about a stray like me then?” he snarls, crossing his arms—you’re so fucking naive. “go eat the cooked lamb and worry about yourself, for fuck’s sake.”
while his harsh tone would’ve definitely scared you on day one, this time, you feel more ticked off than afraid.
“i’m a grown ass adult. don’t tell me what to do. if i wanna worry about the noisy stray in my alleyway, i’ll do that,” you shoot back indignantly, mirroring his crossed arms.
the wolf’s demeanor changes, hackles rising. his ears go erect, straight and tense with frustration. he bares his teeth at you, a warning growl coming through them. “lot of talk for someone so damn tiny,” he barks. “don’t you have any self preservation instincts? i could just fucking eat you instead.”
you go a little slack jawed at that, a flicker of hesitation, but then you retort. “maybe, but i bet humans don’t taste as good as lamb or deer!”
“i’ll make do,” he growls back, canines pulling into an evil smirk.
your bravado dies down, and then he has to deal with the disturbingly wounded pout on your face. you don’t say anything more and he sighs heavily.
“i’ll eat more if you eat,” he grunts, glaring at the pavement. even then, he can feel the way you perk up.
“i’ll be right back!” you grab his plate and hurry into your apartment, eager, and all he can do is sigh, wondering what on earth he’s doing interacting with a fragile little human like you.
you come back with more cooked lamb in his designated plate, placing it in front of him before taking a seat on the floor again. he watches you stab at the pieces with a fork and chew on them, so dainty compared to the way his canines dig into his own share.
he can feel the curiosity thrumming through your veins, no doubt burning with questions—the need to talk to him. but you stay quiet as you eat, the sounds of chewing echoing through the alley. he concedes.
“you make it a habit to feed strays?” he mutters. you look up, once again sporting that silly look of surprise at his attention, but you recover quickly.
“no not really. you were just…really loud.” you sheepishly grin when he pins you with a glare, raising your hands innocently. “i just heard a lot of rattling around out here. i thought you were a stray cat.”
he takes offense to that.
“i ain’t no damn cat,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes as he bites into the flesh of another piece. your grin widens.
“clearly.”
the rest of the short meal passes in silence. he finishes up before you do, and for the first time you see him stand to his full height—he’s tall and hulking.
“well,” he grunts, shoving his clawed hands into his dirty pockets. “y’should go inside and finish that.”
he nods at your bowl before turning away. you briefly wonder where he sleeps; perhaps the park nearby so that he can rest on soft grass rather than cold stone. the thought makes you pity him more than you did.
his retreating form suddenly pauses, and he turns to stare over his shoulder—his jade eyes glow in the darkness. “see y’tomorrow.”
a wide smile stretches across your face, and you wave back, giddy. “sure! see you tomorrow…” your voice trails off at the end. the wolf rolls his eyes heavily, before turning around and continuing his walk.
“toji.” he finishes for you, voice low and yet still clear.
you bite back a laugh of disbelief. “toji,” you repeat, and it rolls off your tongue like butter. his ears twitch at the sound, surprisingly pleasant, and he grumbles in return, vanishing into the night.
"Come here," Toji says, at the sight of the involuntary pout that works wonders to express your internal, dispirited mood. His attention is divided very unevenly between you and the movie playing on the TV, you holding the greater part of his focus. He's watching you for his own peace of mind, hoping that every time you take a break from the movie, to check your phone, you'll spare him a look. You've been quieter than he knows you to be, and you're not sitting even remotely close to him. He's on one side of the couch and you're on the other side.
A few seconds pass since Toji spoke up, and he wonders if you even heard him in the first place, because you didn't respond. He passes on repeating himself when you shift your eyes from the TV to meet his gaze, and though your gloominess isn't because of him, you can't offer him any sort of indication that you're good.
"Sorry, i'm not in the mood to take my clothes off, Toji," you say, your voice a gentle, pitiful excuse for sound. If your voice could be seen, it would be similar to the tragic way that grass blades slowly try to stand up, after being stepped on. If the sound of your voice could be felt, it would be the void-like, almost nauseating feeling in your stomach, that comes with ignored hunger. You sound detached from the bright person Toji knows, and clearly, you're not okay.
"I'm not asking you to undress yourself. I want you to come to me," Toji responds. "You're sitting so far over there, away from me, like I did something to you. For being the most reasonable person I know, this isn't fair, at all." His eyes stay on you as he awaits your response, but he is only met with the sight of you looking down at your hands.
"Be fair. You didn't help me get better at communicating, just to turn the tables on me like this." His tone is sharper, out of urgency. He wants to know what he can do for you, but it's hard to do that when you're there, yet, not there. "Just... come here, ma," Toji tries again, his voice a little softer and understanding. "Please. Let's talk about anything." He pats his thigh, directing you to one of the reserved spots he holds for intimate conversations with you.
You know Toji's stubbornness will not leave you alone. It's impossible to hide anything from him once he's onto you, so you stop prolonging the inevitable and silently do as he says.
You turn off the TV, before walking over to him and settling on his lap. You sit there, with a racing heart, because Toji's attention feels like a spotlight on you. His hands interlock at the small of your back and rest there, as he waits for you to say something. Silence invades the moment while you figure out where to start.
"What's wrong?" He asks, when there is no attempt to speak made by you. Immediately, your throat begins to ache, and your eyes start to sting. It's a question known for breaking people, and you're on the brink of becoming another victim. You think you can widen your eyes to keep them dry or blink away the tears, but the outcome doesn't favor you. Toji's hands shift so that they're splayed out on your lower back. They move up and down in soothing motions, as if he's trying to coax your strong emotions out with the comforting gesture. Like a gloomy sky finally giving in to rain, you cave in to vulnerability.
"Baby?" Toji calls, watching as sadness takes over your features. He sighs as he pulls your twinkly-eyed self into his tight embrace. He hates when you cry. The sound and the sight is the equivalent of pouring acid on his heart. It's torture for him to see that his baby, his sweetheart, his love, has been reduced to streams of tears, but he knows that getting it all out is for your own good. This is the 'alcohol in the wound' part of the process. You don't want to do it, but you'll feel better, afterwards. Just like a real physical wound, Toji will make you get it done. Scream if you must, curl into him like you are trying to go through him, he's not going to abandon you.
"Just breathe, sweet girl," he instructs, when he hears the heart wrenching sound of your stuttered breaths. "Breathe. Give me a good one," he says, rubbing your upper back. You inhale, the act still heavily stuttered, before you exhale. "Good. Again." You repeat the process and get the same trembling breath as a result.
"Fuck," you choke out. Your head feels like it's pulsing, your abdomen burns, your chest feels heavy, as if you have chains tightly wrapped around your torso, and your throat aches. It's all so overwhelming, you feel like there's a disastrous storm ruining you from within.
"Sweetheart, please breathe. You're gonna turn blue any minute now." Toji can't hold you any tighter without crushing you, but he wants to, so badly. This is the lowest he's ever seen you and it's killing him. He has never made you this upset. It's hell to even imagine what you must have endured to get to this point.
"You're safe. I have you," he says, bringing a hand up to cradle the back of your head. "I'm here, baby."
Toji's shoulder is damp from your waterfalls of tears and he can feel an excessive amount of heat radiating from your trembling body. Your crying ceases and all that can be heard are sharp, short inhales and puffs of air, as you try to regulate your breathing. Toji continues running his hands over your back, soothing the tired, tense muscles of your shoulder blades.
"We are gonna have to talk about this later, doll. I know that might not sound like the most fun thing to do, but it'll make you feel better. I want you to feel better."
Toji is mindful of your silence. He knows your voice isn't in the best condition to speak after your surge of emotions, and you're probably exhausted, but this isn't a dead end for him. He'll figure out your needs, and he'll take care of you. Anything to bring your happy, smiling face, back.
Toji allows you to pull away from his shoulder, and instantly takes in the sight of your pretty, ruined face. You don't look at him, and he assumes that your appearance is to blame. Your eyes, they're red and puffy, glimmering in the light with your now contained feelings, and you're still sniffing like you need to blow your nose. It's terrible to see you this way, but he would withstand much more than this, if you needed it.
"How does a bath sound, for now? A bath and then some food? You hungry, mama?" He asks, his expression involuntarily soft, as he runs the pads of his thumbs beneath your eyes, attempting to clean you up a little.
"No," you say, quietly, with the fragility that remains of your voice.
"I'm gonna pick up some food while you relax." Toji almost laughs at the subtle roll of your eyes. "That's my bad. I shouldn't have asked in the first place. You need to eat something."
He doesn't want to put you through any more stress, but when he needs to take care of you, during times like this, he knows what you need more than you do. Your reasoning is clouded by your emotions, and you'll let go of yourself, because your thoughts rewind over and over to what's plaguing your mind. Toji knows you'll be glad he did this for you when you feel better.
"Let's get that bath ready," he says, securing your legs around his waist, before he stands up from the couch. Your face is buried in the crook of his neck, and you breathe in his scent, until you reach the bathroom.
Toji flicks the light on and sets you down on the counter. A chaste kiss is pressed to your tearstained cheek, before he lets you go so he can prepare your bath. You turn your head to look at yourself in the mirror and hate the messy sight before you—the product of your meltdown. You turn on the cold water and splash some on your face, hoping to decrease the puffiness of your eyes, even just a little bit, while Toji is busy. You dry your face afterwards and check your appearance in the mirror, again, to clean up any remaining gunk in your eyes.
When you finish, you turn back, just in time to watch Toji rise from his knelt position by the bathtub. He makes his way back to you and stands between your legs, offering you a contemplative look, and a "hm" to go along with it. No words are exchanged when his hand reaches out to gently cup your jaw, allowing him to turn your head in any way he wants. He leans forward to examine you more closely, to check if anything is "broken". He can see you pressing your lips together, trying not to laugh, as he continues to snoop around.
"Oh," he says, like he found a cable that has simply been disconnected. He turns your head a little, and keeps inspecting the problematic area, building up the suspense for you. You couldn't say it, but him finding something scared you a little, considering you had just looked at your reflection and didn't see anything.
"Don't move, doll. I'll get it." His hand rests on your shoulder, the other on your thigh, as he leans in closer and closer, until his body heat coils around you. He presses a kiss to the side of your neck. It's featherlight, almost like a gentle breeze. Another one lands on the same area, then another, and another, until he hears your little laugh, a sound that brought both of you mutual relief. Your relief came from understanding that Toji didn't actually find anything off, while Toji's came from the miracle of him being able to make you laugh, after what went down not that long ago.
"Two seconds, ma," he says, beneath your ear. He pulls away from you and goes back to the now foam covered, sweet smelling bathtub. He leans down to turn the faucet off, and returns to you, afterwards.
"It's all ready for you," he says. A smile curls on his lips when you raise your arms, signaling for him to pull your shirt off. "You wanna keep your bra and underwear on?" He asks, as he pulls the hem of your shirt up. You nod, just before the material goes over your head. He sets it aside and helps you down, off the counter, so you can take your sweatpants off. You pull your phone out of your pocket and set it on the counter. Your fingers hook into the waistband of your sweatpants and tug downwards, until they just slide down your legs and allow you to step out of them.
Toji watches you carefully step over the edge of the tub, one foot sinking through the foam and into the warm water, followed by your other foot. You crouch down, slowly, until you are able to sit down and eventually lay back. You close your eyes once you're in a comfortable position and just let the warm water and the pretty smell work its magic on you.
Toji kneels beside you, and observes you in a more serious manner than before. His gaze lingers on those tired eyes of yours, for longer than any of your other facial features. Your eyelids are still swollen and the bags beneath your eyes are prominent. The longer he stares, the more he thinks back to how you were so distressed, to the point where you forgot how to breathe for a few seconds. It scared him. He didn't get a single word about what was wrong, from you. You couldn't say anything other than that single curse, but even then, you sounded like you were being strangled by your own emotions.
Toji knows this is only a temporary fix— this calm sight of you resting in a bubble bath. Your feelings won't be swept under the rug, because he knows that if it were him going through this exact situation, you wouldn't just give him a hug and call it a day. No, when you take care of his mind and heart, you hold him in your arms and don't let go until he's the one trying to cage himself in your embrace when your arms loosen around him. You keep your voice at an intimate volume as you tell him about your day, because sometimes he isn't immediately ready to talk about what is bothering him, but he still wants to hear you. You cook for him, you give his tired body massages, you shower him with love and affection, and when he's finally ready to tell you what's going on, you listen closely to everything he has to say and you offer him your utmost support. You love and protect him to no end, and he has become shamelessly clingy towards you, because of it.
He wants you to feel as loved as he does. He wants you to know what it's like to experience the same level of care you give him. He may not be able to replicate it to a T, but he's willing to try for you.
"Hey," Toji calls, tenderly running the knuckle of his index finger back and forth, over your cheek. You hum, and blink open your eyes, giving him your attention. "I'm gonna go get us some food. Stay on the phone with me and keep me company until I get back, yeah?"
You nod. "Yeah, okay. Can you bring me my phone, please?"
Toji gets back on his feet and takes one large step towards the counter, retrieving your phone, before taking that same step back to leave it next to you, on the edge of the bathtub.
"Be right back, doll. Pick up the phone as soon as I call, okay?"
"Okay."
His hands grip the edge of the bathtub, to prevent him from falling in, as he leans in to peck your cheek once more. His weight shifts onto one arm so he can bring a hand to your face and rub the kiss into your skin with his thumb.
"Love you, ma."
"Love you, too."
With that, Toji stands up straight and heads towards the door. He takes one last look at your pretty face, before exiting the bathroom and closing the door behind him. He grabs his phone from the couch, his keys from the hook on the wall, and messily slides his shoes on, not bothering to put them on correctly, since he won't be getting out of the car, anyways. He secures the inside of the house, before heading out, and once he's outside, he finds his house key and locks the door. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and makes haste of clicking the phone icon, and then your contact, as he keeps walking to the car. His phone is now against his ear, and he listens as the line rings once... twice...
SYNOPSIS: the stars in space must grow weary of their long orbits after a while. they too deserve to rest. a shooting star has regained its tail, ready to soar across the galaxy once more.
TAGS: fluff, minor spoilers of Kaveh’s backstory, the sillies getting a well-deserved break, 4.6k wc
NOTES: I was watching honkai impact’s “graduation trip” animation and sobbing the whole time as I wrote this their cover of canon in d just hits differently
Sitting upon the outskirts of Sumeru City is a small rented house where the breeze is warm and the sunlight is golden. A small garden grows off to the side and receives plenty of love, apparent from the abundance of vegetables and the fragrant blossoms. Traces of Dendro elemental energy used to help the plants grow are visible with elemental sight. Small trinkets are scattered here and there, bearing traces of their owners' personalities. A wind chime hanging off the roof awning that is styled after the night sky. Comets and crescent moons are strung together, tinkling pleasantly in the mid-afternoon breeze. A collection of Aranara statues sit by the front porch, clearly carved from different people from the varying differences in skill. The smell of freshly-brewed coffee and Padisarah Pudding is always wafting out the open windows and the neighbors are used to the house’s frequent yet lighthearted arguing.
If one were to peer through the large living room window with the curtains pulled open, they would see an impressive collection of books in the living room. The term “home library” did the collection a disservice; to call it an actual library would be more fitting. Two diplomas are hung side by side above the bookshelves. Cat toys are scattered across the floor and atop furniture and if they’re lucky, they can see the household’s gray cat napping in a sunbeam.
If they were to peer through the window now, they would also see two recent Akademiya graduates in the kitchen. One was adding ice cubes to their drink, while the other sat at the kitchen table reading a book.
“(Name), have you ever thought about taking a graduation trip?”
You look up mid-sip from your iced peach juice. Alhaitham seems calm and composed but having known him for four years and counting, you spot the subtle signs of his nervousness. You hear his foot lightly tapping against the floor and the way his fingers drum against his book cover. He avoids making eye contact and is oddly fixated on the fruit bowl.
You look back out the window and think for a bit. You can’t say you’ve ever considered it these past four years. Money was tight as an Akademiya student and you were too preoccupied with your studies among… other things.
But now that you’ve graduated in relatively decent academic standing with a fair amount of money earned, you suppose you could give the notion some thought.
Alhaitham seems to take your silence as hesitation and he begins to (very subtly) panic.
“I still have enough Mora, so don’t worry about paying for anything.”
“Haitham-”
“And the location is completely up to you. I’m fine with whatever nation you choose.”
“I-”
“Of course, you can say no if you don’t want to. It’s perfectly understandable. I’m also content with spending our summer together at-”
“Haitham.”
The finality in your voice makes him stop rambling. You give him a small smile of reassurance and interlock your fingers with his across the table. It seems to calm him down and you can see the tension in his shoulders dissipate.
“Of course I want to go. I just haven’t had the time or energy to consider it these past four years.”
“Well, where to then?”
“You’re the one paying for the trip. It’s only fair that I let you decide.”
“Good point,” he admits. His eyes narrow in your direction and you squirm uncomfortably under his pointed gaze. You can hear him mumbling to himself as he goes through his list of ideas.
(Is this what Tighnari’s plant samples felt like underneath the magnifying glass and his scrutinizing eye?)
“Liyue?... No, you went there already. Inazuma sounds good, but their political state has been rocky lately… Mondstadt, then? No, there’s a national holiday coming up so it’s going to be busy and overcrowded…”
He pauses.
“How does Fontaine sound?”
“Fontaine?” you repeat.
“It’s nearby, so travel fees won’t be outrageous, and neither of us have been there before. The political state is stable and there’s no national holidays or anything similar coming up, meaning it won’t be as crowded as say, Mondstadt,” he reasons. “But if you’re not interested, then that’s fine-”
“Haitham, do you remember what I said earlier? I’d love to go anywhere with you. A trip to Fontaine sounds lovely.”
That seems to ease the last of his worries. His shoulders relax and he leans back into his chair. There’s a faint grin that only you have the privilege of seeing as he pulls out his notebook and begins writing down plans.
“I’ll start making reservations now. It shouldn’t take them more than a few days. When do you want to leave?”
“As soon as possible.”
“How does the end of this week sound then?”
It’s a perfect day for traveling. The sky is clear and the air is warm but not overbearingly so. The sea should be calm as well. Thamina has been handed to a friend for pet sitting. Your bags are stacked on the front porch and you’re fiddling with the keys when Alhaitham taps you on the shoulder.
“Before we go, I have a present for you.”
You raise your eyebrows at that. Alhaitham wasn’t much of a gift giver (at least overtly).
He presents a simply-wrapped box. Peeling off the paper, you open the box to see a Kamera sitting inside it, and a rather fancy model at that.
“Everyone contributed to this,” he explains as you fiddle with the expensive gadget, examining it from all angles like a curious child. “I know you’ve been eyeing the empty position of reporter at the newspaper company in town and I thought a Kamera would be a practical gift, so I began saving up for one.”
He sighs. “Word got out that I was looking for a Kamera. Everyone put two and two together and they realized it was going to be for you and they began sending me money. Even Lisa pitched in.”
“Lisa?” you repeat. “She’s all the way in Mondstadt right now!”
He lightly chuckles. “Imagine my surprise when I opened the mailbox to find a hefty pouch of Mora one day with a letter signed by her in there. She still hasn’t dropped the habit of calling you ‘cutie’, by the way.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less than that from her.”
“But with everyone’s funds combined, I was able to get a nicer model than the one I was originally going to get. Give it a go and tell me what you think of it.”
You press the shutter. It goes off with a loud click, startling you. A few moments later, it spits out a strip of film from the opening beneath the lens. You absentmindedly put it aside in a shaded spot for now.
“It’s quite nice. And your intuition proved to be right once more. But if you got me something this expensive, surely there has to be another reason than it being a practical gift for my future job?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? I think that’s the fastest you’ve seen through me to date.”
“You’re not exactly being subtle here.”
He sighs at your deadpan expression. “It’s nothing shameful or secretive. I just want you to be the one to document the details of our trip.”
“Entrusting such an important task to me?”
“There’s no one better suited for the job.”
Right as you’re about to leave, you remember the photo you had accidentally taken earlier. Out of curiosity, you retrieve it to see what the Kamera had captured.
The film had developed nicely, albeit slightly blurry. Probably because you had moved out of shock when the shutter went off. It turns out you’d accidentally taken a photo of Alhaitham, but it isn’t half-bad. He’s relaxed in the photo and his eyes lack the usual piercing and cold look most people see him with.
It’s a nice shot. Perhaps you’ll keep it for yourself.
“Welcome to the Clementine Line aquabus! This boat tour will take you to the magnificent court of Fontaine, the most important city in our nation!”
The sweet creature before you, who you quickly learned was a Melusine and was named Aeval, introduces herself and begins pointing out the sights around you- much like how a tour guide would. The aquabus is quite crowded with visitors but you sit shoulder-to-shoulder comfortably against Alhaitham.
Many students and children are here on summer vacation with their families and you feel a pang of jealousy run through you, which quickly morphs to tension when you notice some familiar faces from these past four years. Alhaitham immediately picks up the sudden change in your mood, as he always has. Funny how people think of him as emotionally dense when he’s one of the most emotionally intelligent people you’ve ever met.
“Who are they?” he whispers into your ear, low enough so that only you can hear it.
“No one of any importance,” you whisper back. “Just as long as they don’t ruin our trip.”
After some time, their gaze begins to wander when they land on you. You hear the whispers quietly explode around you and the eyes that burn into your body. The sweet Melusine tour guide is as perceptive as she is sweet, for she makes eye contact with you, giving you something else to focus on other than them.
From over your shoulder, Alhaitham silences them with a sharp glare.
(“Did something happen?” you ask him when you no longer feel their gazes boring into you. You cast a glance at them out of the corner of your eye and notice how they no longer look in your direction.
“... Let me rephrase that. Did you do something?”
He hums. “I’m unaware of what you might be implying.”
“Stop feigning ignorance,” you hiss.
“I am doing no such thing.”
There’s no such thing as winning with him around.)
The aquabus reaches its destination, and all your troubles are forgotten as you step off. The air is warm and salty from the sea and the buildings are so tall it makes your neck hurt. Mechanical beings walk the street and nobody pays them any mind except you. (You know your Kshahrewar colleagues would love to get their hands on one.)
“Woah! Are you seeing all of this, Haitham? It’s so different from Sumeru and Liyue!”
Instantly, Alhaitham knew he made the right decision bringing you here and part of a burden is lifted off his shoulders.
There are many things to do and see in Fontaine. You start off by exploring the city. One of the first things you do is visit a Kamera shop to get a better understanding of how your shiny new gift worked. You ended up leaving with some newfound knowledge, some gadgets, and a significantly lighter wallet.
Fontaine has plenty of boulangeries and patisseries, each one better than the last. Your days aren’t complete without sampling the goods of several stores and you quickly see why Fontaine’s desserts are world-renowned.
“They’re so buttery and creamy,” you remark the first time you try one. “I can’t help but feel full after just a few bites…”
Fontaine is renowned for its stunning underwater landscapes that photos can’t do justice to. It had been on your bucket list of things to see the moment you began planning for this trip, but what nobody told you was that only Vision holders could breathe underwater. Regular people couldn’t do that unless they learned the ins and outs of using a diving suit, something both costly and time-consuming- two things you lacked.
That’s how you found yourself pouting at the water’s edge, disappointment etched into the lines of your face.
“Let’s just go back now. There’s still other things we can do.”
Alhaitham looks at you with mild surprise. “I thought this was one of the things you wanted to do most in Fontaine?”
“It was and still is, but I don’t have a Vision, so…”
He looks back at the water, then at you beginning to get up, and finally at the reluctance in your eyes.
“Stay here,” he suddenly says. “I’ll go and make it worth your while.”
“What-”
“It won’t be long. Don’t go running off now.”
And without any hesitation, he dives straight into the waters, leaving you reeling as you watch his figure slowly disappear as he descends.
With nothing else to do, you absentmindedly sketch the surroundings until some time passes and you hear a small splash. You watch as Alhaitham emerges from the waters, water plastered to his forehead like your cat Thamina’s fur after a bath, but more importantly, you notice what he’s carrying. You’ve seen sketches of them in some of the books you’ve read in Fontaine so far- Romaritime Flowers, Lumitoiles, Beryl Conches… he must’ve dove into some deep waters to get some of these local specialties.
“For you,” he says.
“Really?”
He nods. “I brought you part of the sea that you wanted to explore so much.”
You let the weight of his actions sink in.
“You… did all of that? Just for me?”
“I’d swim to the bottom of Fontaine’s deepest trenches as many times as you want.”
“Willingly, at that?”
“Gladly, at that.”
Later that night, you stay up into the early morning preserving what he brought you. Your arms are tired from carrying heavy books for pressing the flowers, and the room reeks of alcohol and seafood so much that you have to open the windows while you’re drying out the Lumitoiles lest you pass out from the smell. It reminds you of the late-nighters you’d pull back in your Akademiya days, except it's for something you enjoy this time.
You finish when the sun’s early morning rays begin to peek beyond the horizon. You’ve finally passed out in bed, barely awake, but still sleepily talking to yourself with Alhaitham lying across from you.
“Still stinks,” you mumble as your eyelids begin to close.
Alhaitham’s condition is as equally bad as yours, sleep-deprived and exhausted. He chuckles at your remark.
“Would you still want to do this again?”
“Maybe in a better-ventilated area,” you grumble.
He loudly yawns.
“Just say the word and… I’ll bring you anything you desire…”
You can’t keep your eyes open for much longer. When you’re in this state, your mind doesn’t have a filter and you’re less inhibited. Alhaitham has a feeling of what you’ll say next. Something outlandish and unattainable.
“Even the moon and stars?”
“Only the most luminous of shooting stars for you,” he replies without hesitation.
Why a shooting star, of all celestial bodies…you groggily wonder.
“What if it burns out and loses its tail? It’s just an ordinary rock then.”
“It’s still the same star, is it not? And shooting stars can return and regain their tail.”
Throughout all of it, you take photos. So many photos. You brought along an album for the trip and it contains photos of just about everything under the sun. The mountains in the background on your way to Fontaine. Photos of the desserts and everything you ate every day. The grandeur of the opera house when you were there to watch a play. Your pressed flowers are next to the photos of the sea. Your Lumitoiles and Beryl Conches sit in a bag, waiting to be taken home.
Beneath each photo, Alhaitham has written little notes. Most of them are about the foods you liked and disliked for his reference.
(Name) didn’t like the Fontaine Aspic and neither did I. Who thought this was a good idea…? I’d be hard-pressed to find someone who enjoyed it.
The Duck Confit was nice, but (Name) could only manage a few bites before they complained it was too oily. That seems to be a recurring theme…
(Name) has liked all the desserts we’ve tried so far. How hard would it be to recreate them at home?
But there’s other notes too.
A pressed Rainbow Rose sits between a photo of you both in front of the Fountain of Lucine where plenty of them were blooming and a photo of the Opera Epiclese in the evening. Strange, you don’t remember pressing this flower and placing it in this specific spot.
All that was written beneath it was “for (Name)”.
A few days into your trip and you’re examining a hat display while Alhaitham checks out a book display across the street when you hear a familiar voice drifting above the crowd.
“... The audacity of that client! Can you believe he backed out of the deal last minute? At least he paid me upfront…”
Your head jolts up. You look back at Alhaitham, who has done the same thing, and look toward the source of the sound in sync.
Surely it can’t be…?
A few moments later and your suspicions are confirmed. Kaveh emerges from the crowd and… a woman who looks startlingly similar standing next to him?
“Huh? Is that… his mom?”
“He did tell me one night that his mom remarried and moved to Fontaine sometime after he enrolled in the Akademiya,” notes Alhaitham, who has moved to stand next to you. Kaveh turns and makes eye contact with you. It takes him a few seconds to process the sight before he gasps loudly, audible even amongst the crowd, and then storms over to you.
“You!” he exclaims while jabbing an accusing finger at Alhaitham’s chest. “What are you doing here? Nice to see you again, (Name).”
“Graduation trip,” explains Alhaitham. “We-”
He’s interrupted by Kaveh’s mom rushing over.
“You must be Alhaitham! And you must be (Name)! I’ve heard so much about you from Kaveh! Are you both busy right now, by any chance?”
“Not… particularly?”
And that’s how you find yourself out in the countryside spending the evening with Kaveh and his family. Faranak had shooed you out of the house and encouraged you to reconnect with each other until she called you back for dinner. In that time, you had found that Kaveh had made quite the name for himself within the architecture world (no surprise there) and was working on a commission for a very wealthy man before he suddenly backed out of the deal. At least he still got a hefty upfront deposit to keep. In the meantime as he decided which commission to take out of the many that were flooding in, he was reconnecting with his direct and extended family, who he hadn’t seen in years.
“And how about you two?” he asks. “What are you both up to now?”
“Haitham is working at the library as of now, but I’ve been hearing rumors of how he might get promoted to the position of Scribe soon.”
“You probably don’t even want the position anyway,” scoffs Kaveh. “Knowing you and all.”
“Actually, I do.”
You both turn to look at him.
“Better pay, better schedule, more flexibility, and a decreased workload, to name a few,” he lists.
“... Wouldn’t being a librarian entail less work than the Scribe? And why’d you mention pay? I know how much you want a cushy life, but you seem pretty comfortable now?” Kaveh asks.
“It’s decent, but I know we could have more.”
“We?” repeats Kaveh. He slowly connects the dots as he looks at you and Alhaitham. “Wait, don’t tell me you two are-”
“We’re living together. That’s it.”
Kaveh blinks. He looks a little… disappointed?
“Oh… that’s all? No-”
Alhaitham cuts him off with a glare that could kill.
“Not. Another. Word,” he hisses. Then, in a whisper that only Kaveh can hear:
“Not yet, at least.”
You look at the two of them, unaware. Alhaitham clears his throat and sends one last glare at Kaveh before continuing.
“As I was saying, (Name) and I are renting a house together. However, now is a good time to become a homeowner. Mortgage rates are low, housing stock is high. It’ll be doable for me with some time and savings.”
“Geez, stop rubbing your success in our faces,” grumbles Kaveh. “You’ve already got a promotion lined up and you’ll potentially be the first homeowner in our circle. Give me a break…”
While the two grumble and bicker the same way they did back in their Akademiya days, you hang behind, fiddling with a wildflower you had picked earlier.
While I’m glad he’s getting such a head start in life… where does that leave me then?
On the walk back, neither of you notice how Alhaitham lingers behind. Neither of you notice how Alhaitham is also doing the math for how much he has to save up each month to get a house built.
Specifically, one that’s big enough for at least two people.
The last day of your trip has arrived. You’re outside the aquabus station waiting for it to return and take you back to Romaritime Harbor when you notice you still have some film left.
“Here, Haitham, let’s pose for a photo. Might as well use up this remaining film.”
There’s also one last thing you’ve been meaning to do. His comments back at Faranak’s house made you feel dejected, but you tell yourself that you only live once. Might as well so you have no regrets.
Leaving the aquabus station temporarily, you set up your Kamera in front of the large rotating fountain in front. You fiddle with the tripod’s height until you made sure that you were both in frame.
With everything all ready, you hurry back to where Alhaitham is standing. His free arm lazily drapes over your shoulder, his hand resting just above your heart.
Your heart pounds in anticipation. You wonder if he can feel it.
The light flashes red. One.
You quickly glance at him. He doesn’t suspect a thing. His shirt collar is right within grabbing range too.
Two.
It’s now or never.
Three.
You press your lips to his cheek the moment the shutter goes off with a loud click. He jolts upon contact and you instinctively tighten your grip on him. You can feel the smoothness of his cheek and the faint scent of his shaving cream from this morning. You feel the rush of heat to his face and it makes you smile a bit.
Despite his intimidating stature, he still acts like a little boy experiencing romantic love for the first time.
(Probably because it is.)
The Kamera spits out a piece of film and you pray that the photo turned out alright. Your eyes are squeezed shut while his are blown wide in an uncharacteristic display of shock. It’s the perfect photo for a long-anticipated first kiss.
Strangely, Alhaitham doesn’t say a word the entire time and you think you’ve pissed him off, until you’re on the boat back to Sumeru.
“That wasn’t fair of you.”
“... What?”
You shift a bit and see he’s scowling, but in a childish way.
“I wanted to be the first to confess.”
It’s quite the sight. The serious and stoic Alhaitham, pouting like a child. Had you not used up the last of the film for your first kiss, you would have immediately snapped a photo.
You think a bit about what to say and quickly realize something.
“... You do realize I never confessed back there, right?”
“You kissed me,” he plainly states. “That counts as a confession in itself.”
You huff and roll your eyes. “But I never said…”
“Said what?”
“You know… those three words?”
You gesture at the space before you, hoping he gets your message.
“I’m unaware of what you’re trying to imply.”
You stare at him in disbelief. Is this man for real?
Then you notice the teasing glint in his green eyes and it makes you want to tear your hair out.
“You…! Fine. Ok. Shut up. Insufferable asshole. Why did I fall in love with you? You know exactly what I’m referring to. Since you’re all pouty about it, why don’t you say it then?”
He doesn’t take your jab at him seriously, instead choosing to grasp both your hands in his.
“Najmati-”
The endearment makes your heart leap into your throat. My star. He had always called you (Name) or some other nickname, but now…
You reach to cover your burning face but Alhaitham tightens his grip on your wrists.
“Don’t look away now. Are those two stars that hold boundless love and outshine the sun and moon, or are they your eyes?”
Since when was he so good with his words? Stupid Alhaitham and his stupidly smart self and his Haravatat degree making you feel things you’ve never felt before.
“Boundless love for one person only. Care to guess who?”
He feigns cluelessness. “Would I happen to be that lucky recipient?”
The corners of your eyes crinkle from a smile that actually meets them. The small laugh that comes out of you reminds him of the night sky wind chime hanging off the awning that he got because it reminded him of you.
“This confession is long overdue. You really do remind me of a shooting star; something that makes everyone stop and stare in awe. I, just like everyone else, was just as taken with you. Always radiant, always glowing, always full of energy and moving onto what lay ahead. Rather than a star, you must’ve been the sun with all the energy you had and the life you gave to everything you touched.”
“But, Haitham, I burnt myself out. Have you read what Rtawahist scholars predict will happen when the sun inevitably runs out of fuel and collapses in on itself?”
“Everything will be destroyed. And everything was destroyed two years ago. But you’re still here, aren’t you? And so am I.”
“The only one to have survived the blast and fallout with me,” you whisper, interlocking your fingers with his. Your eyes slowly trail up to his gaze, where you see something sweet swirling around in his eyes. “And you’re still here two years later when everything has finally settled down.”
“There’s no such thing as perfection in this world,” he continues. “So I sometimes think that you came here from another world because you are the closest thing to perfection I’ve ever touched.”
“But, Haitham, I have my very obvious flaws. You’ve seen them on full display and you’ve bluntly pointed them out to me several times.”
“It is because you are multifaceted and flawed that makes you more than just a star, (Name). And stars aren’t perfect or flawless either. They’re made of rock, dust, ice, and without its hallmark tail, it looks rather plain. But, my dear sun, your strengths and shortcomings make you radiant even if you’ve lost the tail that people chased after you to see.”
“If I continued to run, would you still chase me?”
“Do you still have a reason to run?
You pause and think. Your time in Fontaine made you feel warm inside. It gave you a glimpse of what life could be like now. Now that you’ve experienced it you don’t ever want to go back to what it was like before, in your familiar yet cold childhood home, its walls devoid of love and color.
That house is not home anymore. It’s now the rented home you share with Alhaitham, where the windows don’t fully close sometimes and the floorboards creak obnoxiously.
And you decide that you no longer have a reason to continue running across the night sky for others to see.
“My shooting star, I’ve loved you ever since our Akademiya days. Will you be mine, as I am already yours?”
SYNOPSIS: it’s always been him- stupidly perfect and handsome Alhaitham who you saw as the bane of your academic achievements. Three years later and now so much has changed. He misses you. He misses your endless bickering and meaningless fights. Why did you change so much? It’s a mystery he makes up his mind to resolve.
CHARACTERS: Alhaitham, gossip circle consisting of Kaveh, Tighnari, and Lisa + the rest of the Sumeru cast
TAGS: heavy angst w/fluff, academic burnout, burnt-out gifted kid, mild profanity, gn reader, reader is briefly mentioned to be shorter than Alhaitham, toxic family dynamics, 15.7k+ word count
NOTES: college decisions and my experiences from the past two years really compelled me to write this. If you’re going through burnout, know that you’re not alone and that you can do this.
this took me almost half a year to finish wtf
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There’s a comet that crosses Sumeru’s skies only once in a lifetime.
Alhaitham had heard some Rtawahsit students discussing it the other day. They were practically buzzing with excitement over the news of its reappearance.
“Isn’t this the perfect opportunity?”
“How lucky are we to be able to witness it?”
“Even our professors are excited about it!”
Alhaitham couldn’t care less. The phenomena of celestial events, while dazzling, are easily explained by science. It’s not like they were anything special either. At their heart, they’re composed of ordinary materials- rock, dust, water, and ice, plus other chemicals.
He puts it out of his mind until he’s rudely awoken one night by loud noises outside the window. A flash of annoyance runs through him as he gets up and looks out to glare at the crowd of students passing through. A glance at their berets tells him they’re Rtawahsit students. They’re trying their best to be quiet, but when it’s practically an entire Darshan on the move, that becomes a difficult task.
It seems as if he’s not the only one that was woken up. Other familiar faces are peeking through cracked-open windows. Lisa, Cyno, and Tighnari all yawn while watching the crowd of students pass by before looking at each other and following them. Kaveh, who has just woken up from his spot across the room, gives Alhaitham one last look before leaving.
Alhaitham closes the window and flops back onto his bed. He covers his ears with his pillow and closes his eyes, attempting to fall back asleep. He never cared for what other people thought or did, so why should he blindly follow the crowd? He wasn’t even curious anyway.
But for some strange reason, he can’t seem to fall asleep. He tosses and turns, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration, before finally getting up to put his restless mind at ease.
It’s easy to figure out where everyone has gone. All he has to do is follow the sounds of chatter. It leads him to the top of the Divine Tree the city is built upon. There, Rtawahsit students are busy setting up their telescopes while others have pen and paper at their disposal for note-taking. Professors guide said students while those from other Darshans watch on in curiosity and gaze at the sky in anticipation.
Tighnari and the others beckon him over. He squeezes himself into the secluded corner they claimed for themselves, poking Kaveh with his limbs intentionally in the process. To his surprise, you’re there too. You lean against Lisa’s arm and shoot him a little glare that lacks any real hate before turning back to the sky, glaring at him when he decides to sit in front of you and block your view.
“Look!” shouts a student. “It’s started!”
Almost immediately, everybody goes silent. Only the sounds of birds and wildlife can be heard, along with the quiet breathing of everyone searching wildly for it.
(He’s acutely aware of the warm puffs of air that tickle the back of his neck when you exhale. It shouldn’t be this distracting, but it is. Is this your way of getting back at him?)
There’s an excited gasp from a girl with her telescope. She wildly gestures toward the sky and Alhaitham sees a bright speck of light out of the corner of his eye. Several smaller meteors zip through the sky, but everybody’s attention is on the largest one. It outshines all the other stars in the sky as it speeds by, heating up into a white-hot glow and leaving a glittering trail of blue stardust behind. It is a star not of this world, speeding onward toward its destination- toward something greater.
“Look,” he hears Lisa whisper. He briefly tears his attention from the sky to see her lean toward you. “Make a wish.”
Alhaitham sees you close your eyes for a moment before opening them again. What did you just wish for?
It’s gone in just a few minutes, heading toward the horizon until not even a pinprick of its light can be seen anymore. The sky is now dark again. With the main event over, most people begin getting up to return to their rooms. His eyes linger on your form, now walking away. Lisa’s voice from earlier repeats in his head.
“Make a wish.”
It’s a childish belief not rooted in reason- he knows that. But for just a second, he closes his eyes and makes a wish.
He met you at the start of his first year.
It’s too loud here. I want to go home already.
From his seat in the back of the room, he watches as spots gradually fill up as the start time draws nearer. Much to his delight, everybody leaves his spot in the back of the classroom alone, instead opting to sit toward the front.
That is until someone sits down in the row in front of him. He looks up from the pages of his book, slightly annoyed. Curses, now he couldn’t be by himself anymore. But they leave him alone and keep to themselves as the professor walks in and introduces himself and the class, so he tolerates it.
There’s a light tap on his desk. He looks up to see you watching him expectantly. He’s able to get his first good look at you now. Your Akademiya uniform is a little too big on you and the sleeves drape over your hands. Your green hat sits lopsidedly on your head and you have the air of a starry-eyed and enthusiastic first-year student.
“Yes?”
“The professor told us to introduce ourselves to those around us,” you explain. “I’m (Name).”
“Alhaitham. Pleased to meet you.”
You nod in response and turn back around. Your professor is explaining the course and handing the syllabus out, but your mind wanders toward the guy sitting behind you whom you’ve just met.
He’s cute, you think to yourself. In like, a little kid or puppy kind of way. He’s still a little short and scrawny- wait, how old is he anyway? Don’t tell me he’s one of those child prodigies that got in at a super young age… Or maybe he’s just a late bloomer, who knows?
A few weeks later, the results of your first test roll around. The 98 scribbled and circled in red ink at the top of the paper makes you nod in satisfaction. It’s indicative of a good start, but when you take a look at the board in front of the class, you see someone has gotten a perfect score.
And it turns out the culprit himself sits right behind you.
You glare at the 100% in red ink at the top of his page as if it has personally offended you. As if to further insult you, there was a small “good job!” written in the margins by the professor that you didn’t have on your paper.
“A 98? Good, but not perfect. Perhaps you should have studied more,” he nonchalantly remarks after seeing yours. Your eye twitches in irritation.
Oh, it is so on.
From that day onward, you swore to yourself that you would beat Alhaitham, no matter what it took. Even if it meant sleepless nights spent hunched over your notes and textbooks, they were all a price you were willing to pay to prove that you were the undisputed best.
Soon after, you don’t see Alhaitham in class anymore. His seat behind you is left unoccupied and you hear rumors that he opted for self-study instead- whatever that was. Despite that, he still gets top marks in everything, only serving to annoy you and spur you onward.
However, you still see him at the library, and frequently at that. It’s somewhat surprising, considering that the Akasha Terminal has the same function and is more convenient. As a result, the library is mostly empty save for the few students that are there to study materials that aren’t entered into the Akasha’s database. You’re there because you prefer the quiet, focused environment of the library to your dorm, which despite the Akademiya and its students' almost religious devotion to academics, can get a little too rowdy for your liking at times. Plus, you prefer the feeling of a physical book in your hands over its digitized counterpart in the Akasha. It makes it easier to take notes and learn that way.
Recently, you’ve found a spot in the library that you’ve taken a liking to. It’s located in the back and obscured by bookshelves, giving you some much-needed privacy while you study and it’s located by a window, allowing for ample natural light.
But apparently, someone else has already claimed it, unbeknownst to you.
“This is my spot.”
You don’t even look up from your book. The voice alone was a dead giveaway as to who was speaking.
“And? I didn’t see your name on it.”
Alhaitham sits at the seat across from you, purposefully spreading his books and other materials across the desk to push yours off to the side. A satisfied smirk twitches at the corners of his lips when he sees your eyes narrow in irritation.
“Are you here just to bother me?”
“If I wanted to bother you, I’d find other ways to do it.”
You huff in annoyance and turn the page. He watches you over the top of his book with intrigue as you alternate between reading and taking notes.
“... Will you quit staring at me like that? It’s distracting.”
“Oh? So you’re admitting that I’m a distraction?”
“You-!”
A sharp hiss to be quiet from a librarian passing by silences you both temporarily. You glare at him accusingly, which he merely brushes off.
There’s a reluctant compromise that arises between you after that. Every day after class, you would meet at the same spot in the library to study. You would sit across from each other and work independently from each other until it was time to go, where you’d then say your goodbyes before heading your separate ways. Rinse and repeat and that was what your average day looked like.
“So, what’s up with that thing between you and (Name)?”
You pause from your studying after overhearing that line and look up. Across the clearing are Alhaitham and a blond-haired man. Kaveh, if you recall his name correctly.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to imply,” replies Alhaitham.
“Is there some sort of competition between you two? Whenever I see you guys, you’re basically at each other’s throats over test scores and stuff.”
“There is no such competition. That would be a pointless waste of my time and energy.”
The urge to throw your book at his head across the clearing is strong, but you’ll settle for Kaveh giving him a doubtful expression.
“You say that and yet you’ve been putting more work into your studies than ever.”
“That’s none of your business.”
But for all your efforts, you can’t seem to catch up to him. He was always one step- or rather, one point- ahead of you. He’d always be there, subtly rubbing his achievements right in your face even though the difference is practically negligible at least half of the time.
It gets to the point where you begin to rant about your troubles to Lisa.
“Can you believe this guy? It makes me wonder if he’s a sadist of some sort that gets a kick out of annoying me.”
You’re sitting outside in one of the many gazebos around the Akademiya. Despite studying under a different Darshan, you quickly became friends with her.
She laughs lightly at your words.
“To me, it sounds like your poor heart is troubled! Shall doctor Lisa perform a checkup on you?”
You swat her hand away.
“Don’t play with me like that. And you’re not even an Amurta student!”
You hear footsteps coming down the pathway and speak of the devil, the topic of your conversation is walking toward you, his book in hand as always. You watch him out of the corner of your eye. He meets your gaze and holds it for several long, agonizing seconds before looking forward again and disappearing out of sight. You shudder and look away, Lisa chuckling lightly at your actions.
“Asshole,” you grumble. “What’s his problem? And did you see how cold his eyes were? Makes me wonder if the rumors of him having a heart of ice are true…”
Lisa hesitates at that.
“I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong, (Name).”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
She purses her lips and looks off to the side.
“It’s hard to explain, even for me. But you’ll see and come to understand in due time how acutely aware he is of the emotions of those around him, especially those he is close to.”
You think you understand the meaning of her words a few weeks later when the results of a particularly rough test greet you.
75%
Damn it, you think before roughly shoving the papers into your bag, away from the prying eyes of your classmates. I can’t falter here now. I still have so much more to do.
“I can tutor you if you’d like. I don’t offer this to just anyone, so I’d advise you to consider it,” Alhaitham says in the library later that day. You know that most people would kill for this opportunity and you weren’t blinded by jealousy to the point where you couldn’t see the benefit of his offer.
But your pride prevents you from accepting it.
“Thanks, but I’m fine. I’d rather do this myself.”
Another time, Alhaitham has to get up at a time when he should be asleep. Earlier that day, he had left a book of his behind and forgotten about it until now, leaving him to search the now-dark and empty halls of the Akademiya for where it might be.
He happens to pass by the House of Daena on the way and sees a solitary lamp lit in the back corner where he usually frequents. Out of sheer curiosity, he steps inside to see there’s a familiar figure hunched over the desk, clearly fast asleep with piles upon piles of books and notes stacked around them.
Alhaitham gazes down at you with his ever-impassive eyes, silently wondering what to do next. A cold gust of air blows through the library and he shivers slightly. He looks down at your exposed arms, then at his jacket, before taking it off and draping it over your form. Catching a cold would serve you no good and you’d most likely return it to him later tomorrow.
Before he leaves, his curiosity gets the better of him and he takes a quick peek at your notes.
His eyes widen ever so slightly. Much of the material scattered around your desk was far ahead of what you were and needed to be learning. Did you borrow these books and notes from upperclassmen? The handwriting is a mix of yours and someone else’s… He doesn’t see the point in you doing so- it’s all just unnecessary work, in his opinion. Either way, it’s none of his business and you can do as you please, but Alhaitham can’t help but wonder if you were doing all of this just to stay ahead- to keep up or even surpass him.
He leaves and you wake up soon after to something warm and soft covering your shoulders. It’s a standard Akademiya-issued jacket for the fall and winter terms. It’s way too big on you and the sleeves completely cover your hands. Curiously, you pull it tighter around your form. It smells nice- like old books and coffee- and you suddenly realize who it belongs to. Your face suddenly flushes and it’s not from the warmth of the jacket.
Alhaitham-!
The next day, Alhaitham arrives at his usual spot in the library. You’re sitting across from him as usual and interestingly refuse to make eye contact with him.
Sumeru’s climate has always been temperate, but the days are getting longer and warmer now. You’ve finally shed your winter uniform for your spring one and with the end of the year rapidly approaching comes major tests. The library is the most packed it's ever been with students everywhere cramming last-minute. It’s rare to find an empty table now, but thankfully your spot in the back with Alhaitham is still left unoccupied. If not, Alhaitham’s cold glare is more than enough to scare them away.
For one of your classes, it’s a project instead of a test. You have the option to choose the type of project, but for some stupid reason, your professor was still assigning partners instead of being able to choose.
“And (Name), let’s see… hmm, I’ll pair you up with Alhaitham. How does that sound?”
Your blood runs cold and you hear your classmates snicker around you. You want to scream at the prospect of it. Sumeru would sooner freeze over before the two of you cooperate and he knows it. You catch him staring at you out of the corner of your eye, daring you to say no.
You swallow your pride and nod. The tips of your ears burn and at that moment, you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole.
“... That sounds fine.”
How humiliating.
Later that day in the library, he’s even more infuriating than normal, if that’s even possible. His face betrays nothing but you can hear the smugness dripping from his voice and mannerisms. His arms crossed in front of his chest, the way he would subtly look down on you with that know-it-all gaze… it all made you want to punch his (handsome) face.
“Don’t fall behind now,” he says once you’ve finally settled on a project.
“Let’s see if you can even keep up with me.”
Your project is relatively straightforward but involves a lot of cooperation between you two. As you work, it becomes an all-too-common sight to see you arguing everywhere you go, much to the irritation of others.
“I’m telling you, this character has to be symbolic of rebirth! Why else would we see it so concentrated in scripts that were dated toward the end of that civilization?”
“You seem to be forgetting that this has also been seen elsewhere. Besides, there are reasons to believe that it means something else.”
“What, did it get lost in translation? If you think you’re so smart, then go ahead and enlighten me.”
You glare at him as he sips his coffee (with milk and two sugars, you note. Just the way he likes it).
“God, can they just kiss already?” grumbles Kaveh from where he sits across the room. Lisa and Tighnari sitting at the same table nodded in agreement.
“Meeting up to work outside of class is normal, but over lunch? Sounds like a date to me,” complains Tighnari while not-so-subtly eyeing the way you animatedly bicker with him.
“Hey, isn’t this Alhaitham’s treat as well?” asks Kaveh. Tighnari’s ears twitch and perk up at his question. He glances at the both of you- Alhaitham just paused to ask if you’d like a refill of your tea, and you said yes- before groaning.
“It sure looks like it…”
Lisa decides to take matters into her own hands.
“Are you two arguing or flirting?” she asks in a loud voice.
“Arguing!” you retort. Alhaitham merely rolls his eyes and steals one of your samosas while you aren’t looking.
“I saw that! Give it back!”
“Too late.”
Two months, lots of bickering, and lots of coffee later, you present the culmination of your work to the class. For all the headaches and lost sleep you had to endure, your efforts are handsomely rewarded with a perfect score and rare compliments from your professor. And for that alone, it was well worth everything you went through.
“Good job. It was a rewarding experience working with you. I daresay that our arguments aside, we make for a decent team.”
You look up to see Alhaitham.
“Oh? A rare compliment from the stoic and sharp-tongued man himself?”
“Don’t make me retract my words.”
“Ouch, how cold of you.”
When you return to your dorm later that night, there’s a note addressed to you from Lisa.
I overheard one of your professors talking about you and Alhaitham with someone else today- Professor Behnam, I think that was his name? I’m fairly sure this was after you guys presented because they mentioned that briefly. I wrote this down in a hurry as they were speaking, but here’s what he said:
They complement each other perfectly. While they both have unmatched erudition and wit, one has the creativity and uninhibited ambition the other tends to lack. However, he is more pragmatic and logical. Despite their differences, they make for a perfect team.
They will surely be among some of the best scholars the Akademiya has seen in a long time.
You end your first year tied for the top of the class with him.
“I’m home!”
“Welcome home, (Name)! How were your last few weeks at the Akademiya?”
Your parents’ home is as warm and welcoming as always. The house has been freshly cleaned and is practically shining. They take your bags and usher you into the kitchen, where your favorite dishes are sitting on the kitchen table, freshly cooked for dinner with steam still rising from them.
“It’s been fine,” you say. “Stressful, but also enjoyable. I like my classes and I get along with my classmates and professors.”
“How are your grades? Have they been finalized yet?”
You nod and beam them with pride.
“Ended the year at the top of the class.”
Your parents’ eyes widen and they clap excitedly.
“That’s our child!”
“As brilliant and talented as always!”
“Good, keep going! Remember to study for money!”
“I will!”
Your mother leans in close and clasps your hand in hers. “After these four years, you should continue your education and become a sage! Maybe even work your way up and become the next Grand Sage!”
You balk at the prospect of it.
“A-A sage? Mom, there are tons of talented people in the Akademiya- that’s where the best of the best go to study! The chances that I’ll make it to that point are slim!”
Your father clicks his tongue and shakes his head.
“Nonsense!” he exclaims. “You ended this year at the top of your class, you know. Besides, you inherited the intelligence of both your parents- I’d imagine that this would be a doable task for you. Also, imagine how amazing it would be if you were to become a sage! You’d be the first one in the family! Wouldn’t that be such an achievement for us?”
“That’s not even true! There was someone else who tied with me for the top of the class as well and if I’m being honest, he has a better shot at it than me!”
Your mom’s eyes sharpen and you instantly regret saying that.
“He? So… a guy, huh?”
You mentally brace yourself for a barrage of questions.
“What’s his name? What’s he like? How smart is he? Is he good enough for you? Does he have-”
“Dear, stop it,” your father says. “Look, you’re overwhelming them.”
You sigh and shake your head. “For starters, his name is Alhaitham-”
“Alhaitham? I’ve heard that name somewhere before… wait, I remember now!” exclaims your father. “His grandmother was a Ksharewar scholar. His mother was a renowned Vahumana scholar and his father was a mentor in Haravatat.”
“Was?” you ask. Your father bites his lip and looks away.
“... His grandmother passed away a few years ago and from what I heard, so did his parents when he was young.”
“Oh.”
The kitchen is silent for a few moments before your father breaks it.
“Wait, (Name), why do you look so surprised? I thought you knew this already, considering he’s your rival and everything! I thought you would at least know something about him.”
“Dad, that’s exactly the point- we’re rivals and I don’t want to know anything about him! All that matters is beating him at his own game and that’s that. Besides, he never tells me anything about his personal life, so why should I do the same?”
“They’re right, you know.”
Your father merely rolls his eyes at your mother’s remark.
“You know the rules, don’t get too close to him now,” your mother warns. “You have to do whatever it takes to be the best, whatever? That’s what you promised us.”
You roll your eyes. “Yes, mom, I know. I’ll do my best to become a sage.”
Your parents lean in to hold you close, your mother giving you a soft kiss on the forehead.
“That’s our child. Make us proud, ok?”
“I will!”
After a lovely three months of summer vacation (and not being forced to see Alhaitham every day save for the rare occasions where you’d run into him in public- you’d immediately turn the other way and act as if nothing happened), you head back to the Akademiya for your second year. Like last year, you share many of your classes with the bane of your existence, although things are… less tense than they were before. The underlying spark of competition is still there, but not as prominent as before.
Alhaitham is pleasantly surprised at how you’ve mellowed out over the summer. Something in your eyes has hardened and the way your mouth is set is different now. You’ve lost some of the baby fat in your cheeks (shame, he enjoyed poking and prodding at them, much to your annoyance) and you’ve grown a bit taller as well. He’s grown taller as well and to your irritation, he’s gaining on you. He’s put on some muscle as well and according to Kaveh, who you befriended over the summer, he’s started learning the art of the sword.
(“What for?” you had asked back then. He had merely shrugged.
“Too much free time on his hands, I guess. I thought he was training to be a mercenary at first.”
“I just can’t imagine him with a sword. In my mind, I see him toppling over from the weight of it.”
“Same here.”)
On the first day back, you merely greet him with a nod and you’re less opposed to working with him than before- although you can’t seem to break the habit of making a sarcastic jab at him now and then.
As the year progresses though, Alhaitham notices a change in you- namely, your test scores. He catches a glimpse of them sticking out of your folder at the library.
85%. 75%. 83%. 79%. They’re not as good as they were last year but they aren’t a concern for Alhaitham. As far as he knows, you’re still doing good overall and your classes are getting harder. It’s only reasonable and he hasn’t observed any noticeable or drastic changes in your personality, so it doesn’t warrant any concern.
That is, in his eyes. The same can’t be said for you though.
You didn't realize how much time you had spent studying until the library was closed one day. Sitting at your cramped desk with your roommate you barely know nowhere in sight, you’re suddenly aware of how quiet it is. Normally, you’d hear at least something- people arguing down the hall and music playing, among others. But today, it was eerily silent.
From the back of your mind, you recall news of a party that was supposed to be happening around this time. Lisa extended an invitation to you but you turned it down, claiming that you had to study. It was a bullshit excuse, now that you think about it.
(Lisa had looked at you knowingly when you said that, but not in a good way. Worry was present in her eyes, resigned to the fact that she couldn’t do anything.
“Alright,” she had said. “Just… don’t head down the path I think you’re on.”)
Your pen freezes mid-stroke as a horrifying thought crosses your mind. You now finally understand the true meaning of her words.
Have I… been making the right decisions? How much have I missed out on?
Your books and the allure of good grades tempt you, but you force yourself to evaluate your life so far. You have some of the highest marks in the entire class but you realize you have almost no experience or connections, and that was what really mattered.
All of the studying in the world can’t compare to pulling a few strings, after all.
Not long after the year starts, Alhaitham notices that you’ve started going out more. You’re spending less of your time at the library during weekends and instead spending time with friends in the city.
(“You actually have a life outside of the Akademiya. I’m surprised.”
“I should be the one telling you that.”)
“Come on, (Name), come join us at the tavern tonight! We booked the place and everyone is going to be there! You’re missing out if you don’t, just saying…”
The familiar voice belonging to a certain blond makes you look up. You huff a sigh and set your notes down to glare at Kaveh, who has been pestering you to go to a party at Lambad’s Tavern tonight. You’re about to tell him you’re not interested when you stop just short of saying so.
Will I regret saying no?
“(Name), you’re young right now! Take some risks and live life a little, otherwise, you’ll have nothing to look back fondly on once you’re all old and wrinkly! That old dusty rock-of-a-friend Alhaitham would say the same thing, you know… although, maybe he’d phrase it differently.”
Kaveh’s right, you realize. I can make up a test. I can always study later. But I’m only young for a little while. I can’t make up for lost time.
“Just curious- what’s in it for me?”
“Oh, the usual. Free food, entertainment, a break from these stupid books, alcohol- oh, and you might get to see a rare drunk Alhaitham there! Doesn’t that sound exciting?”
“No need to venture into that territory. You already had me at the free food part. So, what time?”
Later that evening at the tavern, you realize Kaveh wasn’t kidding when he said everyone was going to be there- he really did mean everyone the moment you step inside. Lisa is the center of attention with wide-eyed students gawking at her alcohol tolerance- seriously, how is she not drunk yet?- while Tighnari stands in the corner with his ears folded over and eyes squeezed shut. Cyno’s glare is more than enough to scare anyone away as he leads the fox hybrid upstairs toward a quieter spot.
There’s enough alcohol being passed around to knock a Sumpter Beast unconscious. You only have a few drinks, not wanting to be hungover on a weekday. At one point, a familiar voice drifts its way over to you.
“(Name), over here!”
It’s Kaveh, and… Alhaitham next to him is drunk from the looks of it? His face is flushed and he stumbles as he walks with Kaveh being the only thing stopping him from faceplanting onto the floor.
“I thought Alhaitham could handle his alcohol?” you ask as you sling one of his arms around your shoulder and make your way out the tavern.
“He does, but he tried a new type of alcohol tonight that was stronger than he expected. Fire-something… it’s from Snezhnaya, if that explains anything.”
You glance at his heavily flushed face again and sigh.
“Yeah, that explains everything.”
After lugging Alhaitham across Sumeru City and up the many steps leading to the Akademiya, you’re prepared to say goodnight to Kaveh and head back to your dorm when you feel something latch onto your shirt. It’s Alhaitham and even in his drunken stupor, he’s surprisingly strong.
“Wait.”
“What is it?” you ask after a moment of hesitation. His answer is instant.
“Don’t go,” he slurs out.
He’s drunk, you remind yourself. Don’t take anything he says at face value.
But even so, you spot the opportunity to tease him.
“Oh? And why is that?”
“Because… you’re one of my only friends.”
You go quiet at that. Nothing could have prepared you for that response. Every witty remark and sarcastic jab you had prepared on the tip of your tongue fizzled out instantly. Even Kaveh, who has no shortage of words when it comes to Alhaitham, falls silent.
In the year or so that you’ve known Alhaitham for, he’s never been one to get close with people, instead preferring to keep them at arm’s length. Most likely, it’s the alcohol inhibiting his filter, but you can’t ignore the little flutter in your stomach at his words.
“I guess you are one to me as well, Haitham. I-”
“Say that again.”
His sudden demand makes you pause. Despite his drunken state, there’s a fire in his eyes that briefly makes you question whether he’s sober.
“... I guess you are one-”
He stops you. “No. Not that. Repeat what you said at the very end of it.”
“Haitham?”
“Call me that again.”
“Haitham.”
“Again.”
A smile creeps onto your face now that you’ve finally caught on. How cute.
“Haitham.”
“Again.”
And secretly inside, you’re happy. Happy that someone considers you a friend for the first time. You no longer feel dehumanized from idolization or isolated from everyone else and you realize it’s what you’ve been secretly wishing for this whole time.
“Goodnight, Haitham.”
It’s now a common occurrence between you two to drag each other to activities on the weekends. One day, it’s Alhaitham camping out with you late at night to go stargazing. (“(Name), this is boring.” “You can go home if you want. I won’t stop you.” “Hmph.”) Another day, it’s him inviting you to the various coffee shops throughout the city and sampling their beverages. (“The shop we went to last week does a pour-over better.” “You think so too?”)
Another time, you’re heading back to the Akademiya after a day of shopping and playing Genius Invocation (he lost miserably several times in a row to you, much to his embarrassment). It’s been overcast the whole day and the air has been humid but you nervously brushed off the weather’s warning signs.
Something wet lands on your cheek. You blink and look up, then at the ground where raindrops are rapidly dotting the surface. You meet Alhaitham’s gaze, the rising panic in your eyes apparently visible because he pulls you toward the souvenir shop, where you both seek shelter against the escalating downpour. Sheets of rain crash against the ground and the sides of buildings and the gusts of wind make the trees sway violently.
(You both, like idiots, forgot to bring your umbrellas. In the middle of Sumeru’s rainy season.)
You can barely see past your two feet but you can make out something moving nearby, and it’s getting closer. Small, gray, and most definitely sopping wet, it’s… a cat?
The small creature pauses and runs as fast as it can toward you. You take your hat off and scoop it up, where it meows pitifully and sneezes. A quick check tells you that the cat is a girl.
“(Name), what-”
“Look, Haitham,” you whisper as you shrug your jacket off and dry the cat. “Poor baby must have gotten stranded and lost in the rain. She came running to us for help.”
The cat shakes off the last of the rain clinging to her fur and now you can see that she resembles Alhaitham quite a bit with her gray fur and green eyes. You wonder if she has his attitude as well…
“I wonder if she’s someone’s pet cat that ran away.”
“She’s probably one of the city’s many strays. I don’t see a collar on her.”
“She’s well-fed for one…” you grumble, noting her plump belly. “So, can we keep her?”
“(Name), you know animals, unless they’re service animals, are not allowed in Akademiya dorms.”
“That hasn’t stopped people though. Someone on my floor snuck their pet cat into the dorms and it’s an open secret among all of us.”
“But still-”
And then you hit him with puppy eyes. The edges of your mouth quiver and turn down, while your eyes soften and go wide.
“Please?”
His resolve crumbles instantly.
“Fine. But you’re keeping it.”
You sheepishly smile. “About that…”
What now?
“My roommate is a blabbermouth and a stickler for the rules. If I kept her, she would be gone and back on the streets before noon tomorrow.”
“Are you suggesting that I take care of her?”
“Are you against it?”
“Taking care of an animal is a big responsibility, (Name). One that requires time and-”
“I can help you take care of her. With the two of us looking after her, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“I can’t tell if you’re being optimistic or oversimplifying the problem here.”
You roll your eyes and Alhaitham looks off to the side.
“I’ll have to ask Kaveh-”
“Kaveh would be over the moon at the prospect of you bringing home a cat. You know how much he loves animals. This cat will be in good hands under his and our care.”
Looks like he now has no other choice but to say yes. He heaves a deep sigh and looks back up at you.
“Fine. I’ll keep her in my room.”
Your face lights up.
“But first, we need to give her a name.”
You scrunch your brows and think for a moment.
“How about Thamina?”
“Thamina,” he repeats. “Meaning valuable or priceless. It fits well.”
You become a frequent visitor to Kaveh and Alhaitham’s dorm after that. It gets to the point where Alhaitham gives you his copy of the spare key so you could come and go as you please (to which Kaveh gives him a knowing look that he pointedly ignores for his own sake). At first, you primarily visited to take care of Thamina, but at some point, you began visiting primarily for him.
Study sessions slowly move from the House of Daena to his room, with him at his desk and you sitting on his bed. Thamina bears witness to the heated debates shared between you two in the late hours of the night and the quiet moments of studying. Alhaitham is there to keep her company throughout the day, but she patiently waits for you after a long day of classes. She watches as you two steal each other’s belongings and food (occasionally joining in if she smelled fish in the box you brought home from a late-night dinner). When there is a disagreement between you two, she’s there to help you reconcile in the form of demanding affection and cuddles.
But when she and Kaveh are fast asleep, only you two are privy to the heavy conversations that happen once and are never brought up again.
“Tell me more about your family, Haitham.”
He freezes, then casts a suspicious glance at you over his shoulder.
“Where is this question coming from? And why?”
You shrug.
“I just wanted to know more about the people that raised you to become the person you are today.”
“... My grandmother raised me,” he says after a moment of hesitation. “I admittedly don’t know much about my parents- only that my mother was a renowned Vahumana scholar and my father was a mentor in Haravatat. They both died in an accident, thus leaving me under my grandmother’s care.”
You make yourself comfortable on his bed and nod, urging him to continue.
“My grandmother was a Kshahrewar scholar. By the time I was born, she had already retired. As such, she had a lot of free time. We did a lot of things together.”
He pauses to recount his fading memories of her.
“She liked to bake. Her desserts were on the sweeter side, but I have the recipes. I can tweak them so they’re less sweet for you.”
“I’d like that very much.”
“She liked to cook as well. I’d often wake up to the smell of food in the kitchen and she’d be there at the stove. She’d make my favorites and always save most of it or the best parts for me. Unlike with baking, she never used any recipes for her cooking. I’ve tried to imitate her dishes, but it’s never exactly the same as I remember.”
Haitham’s bed is comfy, you note. You pull the covers over yourself, feeling your eyelids grow heavier.
“Were you a chubby child who was spoiled by grandma?” you tease.
“Yes,” he admits.
You giggle. “I wish I could have seen you as a kid, chubby cheeks and all.”
There are baby photos his grandma kept that he now has, but he’ll never tell you that.
“Like you, she was more of a tea person than a coffee person. She liked hers sweetened while I liked mine more plain. She never knew where she left her reading glasses and she’d always ask me to find them. When I was younger, she’d read a bedtime story to me every night. If there was nothing we were doing, I’d spend the whole day on her lap as she read the books of my choosing aloud to me. One of the last things she told me was that I was so similar to my father, both in nature and appearance. And more than anything else, she was kind.”
“You miss her, don’t you?”
“Yes. I miss her a lot.”
“Your grandma sounds like an amazing person,” you sleepily mumble. “I would have liked to meet her.”
The last thing you hear before finally drifting off is Alhaitham’s whispered response.
“She would have liked to meet you too.”
And the next night, the conversation is equally as heavy.
“Hey, Haitham.”
“What is it?” he whispers back.
“Do you think that.. I don’t know, that I’m not quite who I used to be?”
Alhaitham sets his pen down.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Do you think I’ve changed in more ways than one?”
“Well, you’re less annoying now.”
You give him a well-deserved jab on the bicep with the end of your pen. Much to your annoyance, he doesn’t even flinch and continues.
“The way I see it, change is inevitable. We all fight and run from it, but it eventually catches up with us. It is neither good nor bad. Rather, it’s what you make of it. But to answer your question, yes. You’ve matured more mentally. You’ve realized there’s more to life now. You’re learning how to live life on your own terms now, aren’t you?’
Your silence tells him everything he needs to know.
“Tell me, Haitham. What do you wish for?”
Alhaitham is a simple man with few desires. If all his basic needs and simple wants of books and time to himself are met, then he is content. But your question has him thinking. Is there anything else he wants in his life?
And it turns out the answer is yes.
“Regardless of how things turn out in the future, I’d like to be able to continue talking to you like this. That’s my wish.”
Kaveh stirs in his sleep. Thamina rolls over and makes biscuits on your lap. A small smile creeps onto your face. You turn away and resume your work. He does the same.
It’s a mundane scene- two Akademiya students pulling another all-nighter to complete their work. And yet…
Yes, this is what I want, Alhaitham thinks to himself. Everything I could ever want means nothing if you aren’t here.
The spring semester comes around and with that comes the finals grind. You’ve thrown yourself into your studies in a last-minute attempt to save, in your opinion, your failing grades since you aren’t at the top of your class anymore. (Alhaitham thinks you’re insane- you’re still in the top five.) As if to rub it in your face, you get a letter from your family one day.
We heard that you’re no longer at the top of your class. What happened?
Your eyes and mind glazed over the rest of the letter until the end.
Study harder. You can end it the same way you did last year if you would spend more time on it. Don’t get distracted now.
A rare instance of frustration flashes through you and before you know it, you’ve ripped up the letter and tossed it in the trash.
Who told them that anyway?
“Lisa… graduated early?”
The news comes to you over dinner one day when you ask where Lisa is upon realizing she’s not there. You’ve just finished all your finals and you want nothing more than to relax and catch up on some sleep, but news regarding your best friend makes you temporarily forget about those plans.
Cyno nods. “It’s a whole thing now. They’re saying she’s the best student the Akademiya has had in the past 200 years. Once in a generation is what they’re calling her now.”
You bite your lip and look away. A weak “tell her I said congratulations” is all you can get out as envy begins festering deep within you. You’re ashamed of yourself- she’s your best friend, for Archon’s sake, you should be feeling excited for her- but you just can’t.
Why couldn’t it have been me instead?
You end your second year third in the class, with Alhaitham at the top.
“Welcome home, (Name).”
The house is a little chilly when you step inside. Dinner has already been prepared- it’s sitting on the table- but it looks like it was made some time ago. Your father ushers you into the kitchen, where your mother waits expectantly, her lips stretched into a thin smile when she sees you.
There are the usual dinnertime conversations- how has your day been? Fine, yours? Same old, same old- but they feel stiffer than usual. It doesn’t flow and you find yourself internally wincing at the heavy silence between you.
“So.”
You pause and look up at your mother, who has finally broken the awkward silence surrounding the kitchen table.
“We heard you… didn’t do so well at the Akademiya this year.”
You freeze and internally brace yourself for what is to come.
“Only third this year? (Name), you were first last year, how come you couldn’t place first again? That’s not so hard, is it? You just have to put some effort in, stop being so lazy, and you’ll do fine! Besides, it’s only your second year, what could be so difficult about it? We know you’re smart and that you could’ve easily been first again. You’re just getting complacent, that’s all! Do you really want that Alhaitham to beat you at your own game? How humiliating would that be for us? Think of the embarrassment we, your poor mother and father, would face from others in the Akademiya- our golden child (Name), who was once someone people aspired to be, but now nothing but a disappointment!”
“Your mother’s right, (Name),” says your father. “We have high expectations for you, or should I say, had.”
Their disappointment cuts deep into your soul, yet something quietly snaps inside you. You glare at them one more time before slipping away.
“I’m not hungry anymore. I’ve lost my appetite.”
You go to your childhood room and lock the door behind you. Your parents’ voices- most definitely talking about you- drift up the stairs and you do your best to tune them out. As if to mock you, hanging on the wall across from you are all the awards you won at academic competitions throughout your life. Trophies, ribbons, certificates, and medals line every bit of space available, all of them with your name and a first-place title proudly engraved onto them.
Now that you think about it, were you really happy with being the best? Your younger self would laugh and say “of course!”, but why exactly?
And then the realization hits you. You personally felt nothing being the best at everything. The title, the fake smiles, and the forced compliments from others- they couldn’t mean less to you.
You were only happy because your parents were happy. Were you ever happy with yourself- with who you were as a person? You don’t know.
Stars live for an incredibly long time, but they too must die out one day. Their reserves of hydrogen gas will inevitably run out and they will either go out with a bang or a fizzle depending on their size. Larger stars go out in a blaze of glory, expanding up to several times their size before exploding and bathing the universe in the remains of their supernova for eons to come, while smaller ones condense from the gravity pushing inward and shrink down into a cold white dwarf, destined to drift across the universe alone for the rest of time. That is your fate, yet you do not know it yet. The last of your fuel has finally been spent, and the end is nigh. Whether you will go out with a bang or fade into obscurity is something only time will tell.
You’ve had enough of the stifling atmosphere in the house.
It’s only been a few days since summer vacation began and you’re already at your wit’s end. The heavy silence hanging in the air and their passive-aggressive comments toward you make you want to tear your hair out. Or run away. Maybe both.
There are still lots of days left before you start class again. Surely there’s something you can do until then…
And then it hits you: traveling throughout Sumeru! You were born and raised in the city, but you’ve rarely ventured outside of its borders. This could be a good chance to expand your horizons and gain experience!
So without further ado, you pack your bags, plan a route, and begin your adventures. Most of the time, you’d leave at dawn before your parents woke up and return late at night after they’d fallen asleep. Sometimes, you wouldn’t return for days, instead choosing to camp outside or stay at a friend’s house for a while. From what you’ve heard through your neighbors and friends, your parents don’t seem to care what you’re doing either. Some of your friends even say that they look happier now that you’re out of the house. The notion stings, but you don’t dwell on it for too long.
There’s a strange sense of peace you feel throughout your travels that’s foreign to you. Whether it’s camping out underneath the stars or scaling a rocky cliffside, you’ve never felt more attuned to yourself than now. You gradually discover more about yourself that you otherwise would have never known. You like stargazing even more after seeing the expanse of the night sky and all its stars for the first time without the light pollution of the city. You like to swim, as demonstrated when you dove headfirst into a river for the first time and felt the cool waters wash over your skin. You’re decently skilled with a bow and arrow after Tighnari gives you some lessons and his old bow to keep yourself safe on your travels.
Most importantly, you discover how to find happiness by yourself. After being told your whole life what you could and couldn’t do, being able to take control of your life was a liberating feeling.
You end up seeing Alhaitham quite a bit during this time. Strangely enough, he was always one of the first people you’d see returning back to Sumeru City. He’d always give you a subtle nod when he noticed you staring at him before leaving. Sometimes, he’d even be there to wish you a safe trip- no, not sometimes- almost all of the time. It’s basically a given that he’ll be there to see you off at this point. How he hears about it every time, you have no idea but you aren’t complaining.
“Leaving early as always, I see. Where to this time, (Name)?”
You pause from checking your supplies to see Alhaitham standing behind you.
“I’m heading down to Gandharva Ville to spend some time in the rainforest. But you’re up this early just to wish me a safe trip? I didn’t take you for a morning person.”
“I’m not. But someone should see you off each time, and if your parents won’t do it, then I will.”
“Y-You… how did you know?”
“Know what?” he asks while stepping around to help you with your bag. “All I know is that I’ve never seen them send you off or welcome you back.”
“So be it then,” you grumble. “It’s not as if I care.”
So he doesn’t know about our strained relationship yet, you muse to yourself. That’s surprising, considering how big mother and father’s social circle is…
“You’re all set now. Best you head off before it gets too hot.”
“I will. You take care as well.”
He watches you leave through the city gates until you’re no longer in sight. A rare expression of longing crosses his face then and only after lingering for a few more moments (with his eyes trained on where you once were) does he leave.
He was lying when he pretended to be unaware of your family situation. When you’re hailed as one of the best scholars in recent times in a land that has a borderline fanatical dedication to academics, everything pertaining to you will be scrutinized and monitored. Your sudden decision to leave Sumeru for extended periods of time, and the way your parents refused to talk about you or changed the topic whenever you came up… it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.
For your sake, Alhaitham hopes you would return later rather than sooner so you wouldn’t have to hear what was being said about you.
“You seem to have gotten good at this,” he remarks over coffee and desserts when you return several weeks later. Alhaitham notices you’ve put on some muscle. There are some new scars and the bow slung on your back is an unfamiliar sight as well. “You would be a perfect candidate for the Adventurer’s Guild.”
You laugh. “Nah, it’s not for me. As much as I enjoy traveling, I don’t think I could earn my living through it, plus I won’t be able to keep it up once I’m all old and wrinkly.”
“Tell me about your adventures though. Where did you go?”
Your eyes light up and you begin rambling excitedly about your travels. You go into great detail about your time spent in the Avidya Forest and your spontaneous decision to travel to Liyue, which catches him off-guard.
“Liyue?” he repeats when you mention it. “So that’s why you were gone for several weeks instead of days. I’ve never been there before. Tell me, what was it like?”
Your smile grows even bigger and your eyes may as well have been stars from how brightly they were shining.
“Oh, you should’ve seen the architecture- actually, wait, I should be telling Kaveh this- but it was so pretty! The food was super good too and a friend I made shared some of her recipes with me. I have a feeling that you’ll like them so I can teach you some other time! Ooh, and you can’t miss the scenery for the world! Personally, my favorite was…”
You’re so caught up in reliving and telling your adventures that you fail to miss the fond look in his eyes and the rare hint of a smile that stretches across his face.
You’re halfway through recounting your way back home through the Chasm when you happen to glance at the clock and the realization begins to set in.
“I have to get going now,” you explain as you hurriedly gather your belongings. “I’m meeting up with some other friends in a bit. But thanks for the coffee and sweets. Hopefully, I’ll see you around again sometime soon?”
The chime above the door jingles as you rush outside and Alhaitham is left alone with his thoughts. With a deep sigh, he takes a look out the window and decides to address the thoughts about you that have been on his mind lately.
You’re annoying, there’s no doubt about that. You love to push his buttons and purposefully irritate him. You’re an overachiever and you care too much about what other people think. For the longest time, your whole personality consisted of your academic accomplishments and nothing else. You’re a people pleaser and you long for acceptance and praise from others- two things he thinks are utterly useless coming from other people. The moment someone questions your abilities, regardless of who it is, you begin to second-guess yourself and waver. Ridiculous, in his opinion. You know your worth and skills better than anyone else, so why are you letting their baseless accusations affect you? You’re easily affected by rumors and your self-worth is determined by what others think of you.
But you have a warm and welcoming demeanor that’s rare in the cutthroat halls of the Akademiya that draws others to you like a moth to a flame. You enjoy traveling and you have a major soft spot for animals, especially cats. Whenever you’re in the city, you always stop to pet all the strays roaming around, no matter how long it takes. You enjoy sweets- not the overly cloying kind, but the ones that have a touch of sweetness to the point where you can just taste it. Your favorite dessert is the Padisarah Pudding sold in the Grand Bazaar and he’s stopped by so often that the vendor knows his name, face, and order by now. You’re more of a tea person than a coffee person, but he has your coffee order memorized just in case (iced, with two sugars, a splash of milk, and rosewater) and he’s the one that has been mysteriously supplying your favorite tea whenever it’s running low. He notices you like to ramble about things you’re passionate about (and he willingly- gladly- listens too).
And he’s come to realize that maybe you’re not as insufferable as he thought you were. You have a brilliant mind and you’re one of the few that isn’t put off by his blunt nature. You don’t just tolerate him- you appreciate him, flaws and everything.
You’ve always been envious of him- he’s known that ever since he met you. Because of him, you have strived to prove yourself as better in all aspects. A stupid rivalry is what it started off as with your pride getting the best of both of you. But throughout these three years, you’ve only brought out the best in each other.
At this point, he doesn’t feel complete without you.
He’s well aware of the question hanging over people’s minds whenever they see the both of you together. You are the sun, the golden child of your parents who are renowned within the Akademiya and held to the highest level of scrutiny. Their judging gazes, eyes that fixate on every move of yours, comments whispered behind your back- you take them all in stride. Meanwhile, Alhaitham’s presence is glossed over when you’re there. To many, he is just another Akademiya student that they will see in passing and forget about immediately. In that aspect, he is the moon that hides from others. Those who were acquainted with his parents or his late grandmother may recognize him and speak with him, but he mostly goes unnoticed and ignored.
But free from the prying eyes of others, Alhaitham is able to sleep peacefully at night. Your fitful sleep, on the other hand, is plagued with dreams of what-ifs and the looming fear of disappointment from others. You’ve always succeeded, not because you craved success, but because you feared failure and how others would react.
The rising moon admires the sun because of the boundless love they receive from others. On the other hand, the setting sun is envious of the moon for his sweetest dreams that they can only long for.
You enter your third year with a sense of apprehension that wasn’t there before. Your high hopes for yourself are still there, but they’ve been dashed considerably. But despite your lack of ambition now and your experiences from last year, you still (attempt to) throw yourself into your studies, knowing that this year is where the challenge begins. Your first two years were just warmups, or nothing, according to your parents.
Your first few weeks go well, but before you know it, you find yourself lost and overwhelmed by the material.
I… don’t understand any of this. But how could this be? I’ve spent so much time.
Your test scores don’t reflect your efforts either.
45%. 50%. 63% 67%. 55%. 38%.
“Damn it!”
You slam your fist onto your desk table as the results of another failed test greet you. You had spent so much time preparing for this one, only for your efforts to be rewarded with a slap to the face.
You can’t keep going like this. You need help, and desperately at that, but you can’t bring yourself to ask for it.
You’re smarter than everyone else, you don’t need help, a familiar voice comes into your mind. You’re the pride and joy of our family because of your grades. Don’t let us down now.
You look out the window, the heat still simmering in your stomach.
“What a load of bullshit.”
“... I saw your test scores earlier today.”
You glare at Alhaitham with poison in your gaze that was never there until now. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he feels strangely uneasy, like his body is warning him to stop.
“And? Here to mock me for it?”
“No. On the contrary, I want to offer you my help.”
Oh, the humiliation. Look at how far you’ve fallen.
“Forget it,” you snap. “I don’t need your help.”
You get up and leave, slamming the doors shut behind you. It echoes through the House of Daena and the other students there turn to stare at Alhaitham in silent shock. He’s stunned too. Although you can have quite the sharp tongue at times, you’ve never lashed out at him like that before.
A few weeks later, the results of another test are announced. Alhaitham’s name sits at the top like it always has. His name is on everyone’s tongue as they jealously grumble over the results once again. His eyes examine the list, searching for one name in particular, until he finds yours at the bottom of it.
He pauses, then turns around in time to see you storming out. He doesn’t miss the looks your classmates give you- mocking, ridiculing, scornful, and disgusted sneers that relish in your downfall. The jealous grumbles about him now turn into titters and sneering whispers with your name now being trampled upon by those that used to extol your virtues. It’s all noise and it grates his ears until he can’t stand it anymore.
“What a waste of time.”
The noise stops and everyone turns to look at him.
“You all have the energy to complain about your own scores while making a laughing stock of someone else. It’d be better spent on improving your own scores- unless you’re just that incompetent?”
Later that night as you’re studying, you get a message from your parents through your Akasha. It’s the first time you’ve gotten anything from them all year. After hesitating, you open the message.
It’s short and simple but your heart sinks and your temper flares after reading it. You rip your Akasha Terminal off and toss it to the side.
Don’t come home this year.
“I need your help. I’m asking for a friend.”
Alhaitham looks over his book at you. It’s the first time he’s seen you all week and to be frank, you look awful. Your hair is a mess, your uniform is wrinkled, and your skin looks dry and dull.
“Do I know them? If not, then I won’t help.”
You roll your eyes and throw your hands up exasperatedly. “Ok fine, yes, you know them.”
“Well, why won’t they just ask me themselves? Why trouble you?”
“Whatever, it doesn’t matter right now. Just answer the damn question.”
He leans back and knowingly looks at you.
“They’re going through a tough time right now,” you explain, choosing each of your words carefully. “They aren’t doing good in their classes and they’re trying to get back on track, but they don’t know how to.”
“... This is for you, isn’t it?”
Damn, he saw right through you. Were you that obvious?
Alhaitham goes back to reading his book. “I can’t say I would be of any use here. After all, I’ve never been in that position nor would I let myself get there.”
You feel your temper flare once more. You clench your jaw and try to reign in your anger before speaking to him.
“Well, duh. You’re also not helping either.”
“Really? I think it’s a perfectly reasonable answer.”
“Put yourself in my shoes for once, would you?”
He sets his book down and looks at you.
“You asked me for my advice and I told you what I would do in that situation. I don’t understand why you’re getting upset.”
“That’s because it’s not the answer I’m looking for!”
“That’s on you for expecting others to somehow know what you want without telling them.”
“You-!”
You groan and run your hands through your hair. Is it just you or is he being more insufferable today? Can’t he read the room for once?
He continues. “If you wanted someone to only tell you what you wanted to hear, a mirror would be a better audience.”
“Alhaitham, all I’m asking from you is a little empathy. Is that so hard to have?”
“And is it so hard for you to stop throwing a hissy fit just because I didn’t tell you what you wanted to hear?”
His words are all spite and knives meant to hurt. They lack the usual lighthearted tone he has with you. You feel it coming- the barbed words that are poised to strike and cut deep, but it doesn’t help when he begins speaking again.
“You asked for my help and I gave you advice. You’re not in a position to be complaining here.”
“Yeah, well, your ‘advice’ isn’t what most people would consider as help.”
He scoffs and looks away before looking at you once more- like he’s looking down on you, you realize. There’s something akin to disgust and impatience in his gaze that makes you freeze despite all your sharp words earlier.
“How irrational could you be? You reject everyone’s help even though you need it and you don’t listen to anybody’s suggestions. You’re too caught up in the conception that you’re always right and everyone else is always wrong. You’re childish, (Name), that’s what you are. You’re like a child still naive and ignorant, content with playing with their toys and games and ignoring reality. You’re not cut out for the Akademiya. You never were.”
He laughs and now you realize just how much it hurts when it’s directed toward you.
“And you’re telling me that my ego is overinflated. No wonder you’re failing everything. Archons, (Name), you’re utterly hopeless. What did I ever see in you?”
The silence that fills the space afterward is enough to make Alhaitham immediately regret his words. You angrily glare at him and Alhaitham’s heart sinks when he recognizes the emotion present in your eyes.
Utter hate.
“... For all these years, I've heard so many rumors about you but chose to brush them off,” you begin. “I was so stupid! I should have listened to them! They say you’re cold and heartless and only now do I realize that they were right. They say you’re not human from how cruel you are- archons, dammit! Look at me!”
The sudden demand makes Alhaitham nervously glance toward you after avoiding your gaze this entire time. You sniff and wipe away the few tears that managed to spill over. Losing your composure in front of him, the perfect and poised genius, was already humiliating enough, but you hold his gaze long enough to let him see. Let him witness the results of his own actions and the prospect of losing someone he cared about (all over again).
“You’re an absolutely horrible person, Alhaitham. I hope you remember this.”
Alhaitham. It’s the first time you’ve used his full name ever since you befriended him and the implications of it sting.
He reaches out toward you. “Wait-”
You slap his hand away.
“No, we’re done here. I thought you could at least understand, but you’re just as uncaring and self-centered as everyone else here. And I once thought that you were better than anyone else here, but only now do I realize how stupid I was."
You laugh sardonically one last time.
“My parents were right. They would have been so much happier if you were their child.”
Alhaitham doesn’t see you again for several weeks after that. It’s as if you’re purposefully avoiding him and it gets to a point where he’s beginning to get concerned about your health and safety.
Currently, he’s meeting with Tighnari. Out of everyone, the fox hybrid had the highest chance of knowing with his keen sense of hearing.
“I’m concerned about (Name).”
Tighnari’s ears twitch in response.
“They aren’t the same person anymore. You’ve seen it too.”
The fox hybrid sadly nods. “They’ve been consumed by rage and self-hate. I see it in their eyes and the way they lash out. They’re angry at themselves and at everyone around them and it’s completely understandable considering the situation and the response of those they trusted most. Still, it’s not healthy if they continue like this. Speaking of which, were they always this temperamental?”
Alhaitham shakes his head. “No. To be clear, they’ve always had a sharp tongue but it was always lighthearted. They only started getting truly angry this year.”
“Lashing out or displaying signs of anger is often a common symptom of burnout. I’m fairly confident that’s what (Name) has. Specifically, academic burnout. But I’m sure you already knew that, didn’t you?”
Tighnari’s eyes narrow. “Look, (Name) is a great friend to me as well, but why are you telling me about this? You’re in their Darshan so shouldn’t you know more?”
“I haven’t heard anything about them either. I got concerned after they didn’t show up at the library for a week. From what I’ve heard, they haven’t been showing up to class either for the past few weeks, which is strange for them. I’m asking around- maybe I’ll find something out that way.”
Tighnari shakes his head. “Sadly, I don’t know why either. If it helps, some people have said they haven’t even seen them. Not just at the library or at class but in general. It’s almost as if they’ve just… disappeared.”
There’s a moment of silence that passes between them. Tighnari stares at Alhaitham curiously and he rests his chin on his hands.
Alhaitham doesn’t have a good feeling about this…
“Speaking of which, does the fight from earlier have anything to do with this?”
“You knew?”
“Please. When two of my closest friends get into an argument as big as that, I’m bound to find out eventually. So, did it have anything to do with this?”
“... Yes,” he admits. “I feel guilty and I want to apologize to them.”
“Well, better late than never,” grumbles Tighnari under his breath. The stink eye he sends his way doesn’t go unnoticed by Alhaitham.
“Why do you care for them so much?”
The question comes out of nowhere and leaves him reeling.
“I suppose it’s… because I consider them a friend?”
Archons, that answer sounds even more pathetic out loud than it did in his head and Tighnari knows it.
Tighnari heaves a long sigh that makes Alhaitham pause.
“You absolute lummox!” he snaps. “I always knew you were somewhat emotionally constipated but I didn’t think you’d be this dense…”
He suddenly stands up and stares the ashen-haired male in the eye, his tone softer this time.
“You’re in love with them, Alhaitham. That’s what you’ve been feeling lately.”
Alhaitham immediately scoffs. “No, that can’t possibly be-”
“You, who hates sharing what you consider yours, share your notes with them.”
“It’s a win-win situation for both of us. We’re in the same Darshan and we’ll be able to learn better from each other.”
“But them, specifically, when there are countless others that would kill for the chance to learn from you?”
“They can figure the material out themselves. Plus, I stand to gain no benefit from what they have to offer.”
“What, so only (Name) can keep up with you?”
“Precisely.”
Tighnari sees the opening Alhaitham has created and takes advantage of it.
“Are you sure that you’re still rivals? Even though (Name) is…”
“Of course. It’s been like that since day one.”
“Huh, that’s interesting. Because from what I know, academic rivals don’t go out to lunch together. They don’t go stargazing even though a certain someone finds it mind-numbingly boring. They don’t sneak out past curfew and break Akademiya rules on a daily basis, and they certainly don’t spend hefty chunks of Mora to make the other happy.”
Tighnari has Alhaitham backed into a corner and he knows it.
“Kaveh knows as well.”
“And?”
“And you still let yourself get roped into his schemes to make them happy. Look, I know this isn’t a good time to bring him up considering…”
He gestures at the empty space, a silent indication of Kaveh and Alhaitham’s broken friendship.
“But there’s no denying that Kaveh did and still does care about you. Why else would he be willing to put in so much time and effort to make them happy? Because in addition to being their friend, he knows that when they’re happy, you are as well. And if that doesn’t mean something, then, I don’t know what else does.”
“We’re just friends,” he argues once again. Tighnari glares at him.
“You’re an idiot to think it doesn’t go deeper than that. You also saw them off every single time during the summer.”
“That’s what friends do. Besides, their parents should have-”
“Uh-huh. Go on, keep lying to yourself like that. Do I have to hit you over the head with a brick in order for you to realize your own feelings? You’re sounding like a broken record here.”
“I-”
“There’s no use in denying or lying to us, Alhaitham. We’re your friends, after all. But the one who’s going to have to decide what to do next is you.”
He gets up and gives Alhaitham a pat on the shoulder. Before leaving, he looks at him one last time.
“It’s going to hurt even more when you lose them for good. You’ll only wish you could have done something sooner. But I think you already know that by now, right, Alhaitham?”
“Do you know where (Name) is?”
It’s a rare occasion today- Alhaitham actually showed up for class. But it wasn’t to listen to whatever the professor had to say- no, it was to ask your classmates where you went. He’s been trying every day to find you, but only to no avail.
He’s gained some valuable information, however. Your roommate moved out a while ago, leaving you the sole occupant of your dorm room. He also managed to find your dorm room number after asking some of your “friends”, who after relentless prying, reluctantly opened up.
“I can’t say for sure, but I heard they’re in the hospital. They somehow ended up there over the weekend.”
“The hospital?” he repeats. “Do you know why?”
“No idea. Sorry.”
He shows up at the Birmarstan after the class ends, fully expecting to see you. He gives the nurse his name and a few minutes later, she returns with an apologetic smile.
“Sorry, but the patient is not accepting visitors at this time.”
A slight pause. Barely perceptible.
“I see.”
You look at the window to see Alhaitham’s retreating form. The nurse enters your room a few minutes later and crosses her arms.
“He’s the first person who’s asked to visit you ever since you came in. I’m surprised- I thought you’d get more. Most people usually do.”
You pull the covers over your head and roll over. Such is the way of life in the Akademiya. Friendships were formed out of convenience as a way to climb up the ladder later in life. As soon as you were no longer useful or fell from grace like you did, others were quick to abandon you without a second thought.
So why did Alhaitham visit then? To you, your relationship (as enemies? Friends? Or even…) was built solely on how you could assist each other, and nothing more. By your prior logic, there is no logical reason why he should visit you.
Unless…
“Is there any reason why you didn’t want to see him in particular?”
Even if your hypothesis proved to be true, it doesn’t excuse or undo the hurt he caused.
“He’s the last person I want to see right now.”
A few days after being discharged from Birmarstan, there’s a knock from the door that wakes you up from your sleep. Still disoriented, you look up and roll over, opting to ignore it and go back to sleep.
The knocking continues. You cover your ear with a pillow and squeeze your eyes shut even more.
“I know you’re there, (Name). Several people told me so.”
Shit, it’s the last person you want to see right now. Your mood sours instantly and now you’re fully awake.
“What do you want?” you snap.
“I just want to talk.”
It doesn’t seem like he’ll be going away anytime soon, so you get up, kicking the trash that litters the floor to the side, and carefully cracking open the door. He looks down to see you. You pull the sleeves of your shirt down as he does so.
“Can I come in?”
You look behind at the mess that is your dorm.
“... It’s not exactly clean right now.”
“That doesn’t matter to me.”
You flick the lights on and hide the worst of the trash underneath your bed. He follows you, his gaze traveling around the room. He notices the side with the unoccupied bed is considerably cleaner (that must have been your roommate’s before they moved out, he reasons) and your desk looks like it hasn’t been used in a while. He takes a seat at it and examines the table. Your Akasha Terminal is lying in the corner and collecting dust. Your textbook is open to a section that was taught a while ago and it looks like you just started taking notes.
(Although, the frustrated scribbles that occupy most of the page have him concerned. Additionally, certain parts of the paper are wrinkled, as if they have dried after getting wet. The shape and spot where they are concentrated in is another cause for concern as well. Were you… crying?)
You pull the covers over your form and glare at him.
“Well? What did you want to tell me?”
“I’m sorry.”
You pause, then shake your head.
“That alone won’t be enough.”
“I know. And that’s why-”
He gulps, his voice shaking toward the end. It’s just a simple apology, so why is he so nervous?
(But deep down he knows the real answer: this is his last chance to ask you for forgiveness before losing you for good. And it was the thought of losing you, the one that had managed to worm their way into his heart and appreciate him that scared him the most.)
“I’m sorry. I really am. I shouldn’t have said those things back then. I should have been more understanding of your struggles and, like you said, had some more empathy. I realize that I am far from an ideal friend in many people’s eyes and if you feel the same, I will not hold that against you.”
His chest tightens and he subconsciously looks away.
“I’m aware of how people see me- valuing logic above all with a mind fueled by equations and facts over feelings. A genius with no regard or need for others. But I’m still human. I feel regret and remorse the same way as anyone else. I know when I’ve messed up and when I need to apologize. Now is one of those times, more than ever.”
You turn around and open the blinds, letting the light flood the room before sitting back down, watching him carefully.
“I don’t want to forgive you. Do you have any idea how long your words lingered for?”
The words sting Alhaitham. Your voice shakes and you feel the familiar burning sensation in your eyes.
“But I know you. I know your bluntness and sharp tongue. You often say hurtful things but don’t mean them. You’re stubborn and slow when it comes to apologizing, even if the guilt eats away at you. You don’t wear your heart on your sleeve and you’re not one to dish out praises, leading others to believe that you’re cold and unsympathetic.”
You suddenly lean in, staring into the eyes that had kept you awake at night for so long. His eyes widen slightly and you smile faintly to yourself.
“But I like to think that I’ve gotten to know you a bit. You show that you care with your actions, not your words, but that takes time- time that most people aren’t willing to give because of their first impression of you. You take the time to learn about the people you care about and prefer acts of service to words of affirmation and physical touch as your love language. You show that you care in a way of your own.
“So yes. I forgive you.”
Alhaitham finds himself sighing with relief. Yet a question still lingers in the back of his mind.
“Why?”
And there it is again, for the first time in a long time. Your smile. It’s a little stiff and awkward, as if you haven’t smiled in a long time, but it’s undoubtedly yours.
“The same reason. I missed you too.”
And now begins the uncomfortable process of recovery.
“How long were you gone for?”
“... Longer than I’d like to admit. Catching up is going to be a difficult task, isn’t it?”
“I won’t sugarcoat it; you’ve missed a lot.” Alhaitham flips through your books and notes from prior years. “However, you have a strong foundation from your earlier years. That should help you. But first, let me ask you a few questions so I can outline a study plan for you.”
You raise your eyebrows at his statement.
“You’re taking this quite seriously, aren’t you?”
“Naturally,” he replies. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Knowing you, you’re not the kind of person to go out of your way for others,” you grumble. “So going to such lengths just for me…”
“You discredit me if you think that I would do that. But why do you think you felt burnt-out in the first place?”
You look out the window and think for a bit.
“... I think it’s because of my own pride. Had I asked for help earlier on, I have a feeling I wouldn’t be in this position, or things would be better, at least,” you admit.
“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”
You sigh and hold your hands out in defeat. “You surely know more than you’re letting on. But I think it’s also because I never learned how to study.”
Alhaitham pauses at that. “Really?”
There’s no mockery or derision in his question- just curiosity.
“People goaded me on as a gifted child and I was expected to somehow know how to do everything perfectly the first time, you know? It’s just how things were.”
“Well, that’s something we can fix for sure.”
Your first few days back are the worst. Whispers and stares follow you wherever you go and your professors, who once showered you with praises, look at you strangely or even ignore you.
“Don’t mind them,” he says when he notices you sulking in the library later that day. “You and I both know that’s just the way the Akademiya is. We’ll see who gets the last laugh.”
Much to the envy of your classmates, he also personally tutors you in all your classes. He accompanies you to all your classes (even the ones he isn’t taking) and sits in on them, whispering and writing little notes of clarification and elaboration.
Bit by bit, you see your scores slowly improve. Alhaitham teaches you an array of study techniques, many of which have been personally vetted by him.
“Try each of them out,” he says. “Different techniques work for different people. There is something out there that works for you.”
He’s able to bear witness to the fruits of your labor one day when he hears your excited footsteps running toward him.
“Haitham, look!”
You practically shove several papers into his face. “I got a perfect score on the latest exam! And guess what? I tied with you, meaning that I also placed first!”
A rare smile, solely reserved for your eyes, creeps onto his face.
“Good job. Your score is well-deserved after all the hard work you’ve been putting in.”
He sees it now. Slowly but surely, you’re regaining bits and pieces of your old self. You’ll never be exactly who you once were, but that’s ok. You’ll pick the broken yet salvageable parts up and put them together to create something new yet still distinctly you.
He only looks forward to seeing what you’ll become in the future.
You’ve finally graduated.
It’s a joyous occasion today, filled with speeches, hugs, and promises to keep in touch. Families and friends crowd outside the Akademiya to congratulate their loved ones. The diploma in your hands and the cords around your shoulders are a sign of your achievements and your persistence despite all the roadblocks you faced along the way.
Your heart feels simultaneously burdened and relieved. You had graduated squarely in the middle of the class. You knew it was something to be proud of, yet that part of your former self that you could never suppress couldn’t help but feel disappointed.
Not that it really bothered you anyway. When you walked across the stage to the smattering of applause accompanying your name, you had immediately locked eyes with Alhaitham in the crowd. He was clapping, but what caught your attention the most was the smile he sent your way. It wasn’t one of his once in a blue moon microscopic ones.
No. It was one where you could see a sliver of his teeth and where the edges of his eyes crinkled from it, the sight of which sent your heart ablaze. There was pride in his gaze and in that moment, you felt as if everything had been worth it- even if it wasn’t the outcome you expected.
And when he walked across the stage, you were the one to clap for him the loudest.
You push your way through the heavy crowds, searching for one person in particular. He’s not anywhere in the crowd, so you head down the walkway and there you see him. He’s waiting for you with a large bouquet of flowers in his arms.
“Took you long enough,” he remarks. Alhaitham holds out the flowers to you and you accept them gratefully.
“Oh, you remembered my favorite flowers!” you exclaim as you examine the bouquet. “I have something for you as well.”
You hand him an envelope and he eyes it curiously when a voice interrupts you.
“(Name).”
You hear an awkward cough behind you and you turn to see your parents. They stand there awkwardly, fidgeting with their hastily-purchased bouquet of flowers that pales in comparison to what Alhaitham got you.
(You don’t even like the kind of flowers your parents got for you and you’ve told them that before…)
“Congratulations on gradu-”
“Oh, you must be Alhaitham!”
Your mother’s sudden remark takes all of you by surprise. She rushes forward and eagerly shakes his hand.
“I’ve heard so much about you! You just graduated and you’ve already made a name for yourself in Sumeru as a genius! How incredible is that? Ah, if only my child here could learn from you, but they’ve already graduated, so it’s a little too late for that now…”
You bite your lip and look away. The action doesn’t go unnoticed by Alhaitham. He retracts his hand.
“It was nice to meet you. We’ll be taking our leave now.”
“We’ll?”
Alhaitham ignores them in favor of holding your hand and leading you away.
“I think a celebration is in order. The owner of the stall that sells your favorite Padisarah Pudding is offering us free dessert today.”
The heaviness that was hanging over you just a moment ago is now gone.
“Free desserts? I’m in!”
“Then it’s settled.”
Later that night, Alhaitham remembers the letter you gave him earlier and pulls it out. He glances at the clock. There’s still time before he has to leave and meet up with you.
Dear Alhaitham,
Thank you for being by my side throughout these four years when no one else was. I owe my entire academic career to you. Perhaps even my entire life. I don’t know if I’d be writing this letter if it weren’t for you.
When I saw you on the first day, I wondered what you were doing here. You were short, scrawny, and shy back then. I thought you were one of those child prodigies. Who knew you’d turn out to be the buff man skilled with the sword that I know today…
Honestly, I didn’t think that you would help me. You were the envy of our class, unlike me. I wouldn’t be surprised and I wouldn’t blame you if all that praise got to your head. I guess I didn’t know you well enough back then, though, because you defied all of my expectations. Not only did you not care for status or fame, you also took time out of your own day (which I know you hate doing) for me.
You really are an enigma, Haitham. You’re a person with several layers and hidden secrets like an intricately-designed mechanism. But I think that’s one of the reasons that drew me to you. Everyone has their own secrets and burdens. By slowly learning more about each other, you learn more about yourself.
You and I, we are inseparable now. Earlier today, I had someone come up to me and ask where you were. They were surprised that you weren’t next to me like always. At first glance, we seem more different than similar, especially with our contrasting personalities. But take a closer look and they’ll see that we share more in common than in differences. Opposites attract, but similarities bind.
Like those dusty old philosophers and figures that we had to learn about in class, we are parallels of each other. You are simultaneously my biggest critic and supporter. My biggest rival and confidant. My biggest headache and source of comfort.
But most importantly, you are my biggest friend.
Remember that one night where I asked you what you wished for? You had said that you wanted to keep talking to me regardless of how things turned out in the future. I didn’t really have a response at the time, but now I finally do.
My wish is selfish. I wish for you to stay the way you are. A little arrogant, blunt, curious, and caring in your own way. Because I can’t imagine a future without you in it now.
With all my love,
(Name)
The house is too quiet for Alhaitham’s liking. He appreciates silence when working and Kaveh’s incessant noise from working on projects at midnight is downright irritating, but there is a time and place for everything.
Now is not that time. Thamina is sleeping on the cushion next to him. Kaveh is out in a meeting with a client (for once) and you’re-
“I’m home!”
Speak of the devil, there you are. Thamina’s eyes open and she jumps off the cushion to greet you with a loud meow and a head rub against your legs. Alhaitham takes his headphones off and sets his book down before getting up to greet you after a long journey back from Mondstadt. You’re tired, your uniform is wrinkled, and your Kamera has been hastily shoved back into its case, but Alhaitham has never been more grateful to see you.
“Missed me?”
“You’ve been gone for too long,” he grumbles before pulling you into a tight hug and burying his face into the crook of your neck.
“Love, it was only for a month!”
“My point still stands.”
You scrunch your face up and eventually manage to wiggle your way out of his grasp. It’s been a few years since you’ve graduated. Alhaitham has dutifully taken on the responsibilities of the Akademiya’s Scribe while you now work as a reporter for a newspaper company. You love the job because it puts your Haravatat degree to good use and you get paid to travel, although you don’t like the part of being away from Alhaitham for extended periods of time.
“Are you still up for dinner and dessert even though it’s getting late?”
“At my favorite place?”
“Our favorite place,” he corrects.
“Oh, you like it now as well? Did some of my tastes rub off onto you?”
“The pudding runs I went on for you did that a long time ago.”
Comets are ephemeral in nature. Some of them are only seen once and then gone, lost in time and never to be seen again. But occasionally, in a twist of fate, they can be rediscovered although it may take hundreds or even thousands of years for them to return.
That comet he had wished upon several years ago had finally returned to him.
"I do."
No, you really didn't. And as he spatted the same words you knew that he was lying too.
Synopsis: Two Clans, only one goal. Have a Gojo heir and keep them in power. Satoru and you couldn't be more different. You two were raised completely different. While he is reaching for freedom, you can only hope to have a good prison.
Could your marriage ever be a success?
Or: Satoru Gojo doesn't even know how attached he will grow to his wife yet.
Pairing: Gojo x reader
Contains: strangers to lovers, slow burn, arranged marriage, angst to comfort
Status: ongoing
Author's note: I really don't know when this will be finished, I can be very inconsistent with my writing, so be warned! I try to keep my writing without any grammar mistakes but please have in mind, English isn't my first language!
Not your husband
Contains: arrangement between the clans about your marriage, origin of your marriage, Gojo is a bit of an asshole, traditional trauma
Not fulfilling meals
Contains: Gojo sucks at communicating, first meeting with the higher ups, talking about pregnancy and 'heir', first step towards each other
Not my honeymoon
Contains: the discussion of your honeymoon (who would have guessed?), little argument with Gojo, Gojo tries to be more approaching
Not alone
Contains: a nightmare, Satoru trying to be charismatic, fluff,
Not your letter
Contains: oh oh... Well not out yet.
More will be added...
Ongoing Taglist (I will try to add everyone here, as the series progresses, but I will still tag everyone on every part):
SMAU idea : you find out they started dating you because of a bet/dare 👀 (angst to fluff / hurt to comfort please)
i love your works !!♥️
Smau: "Wait—this was all a lie?" 💔
- you finding out that the jjk guys started dating you for a bet
(nanami, choso, toji, geto, sukuna, shiu, and gojo)
contains: angst, angst, and even more angst. [part 2 will be coming soon, and there will be plenty of comfort]
a/n: whew, this was hard to write bc something like this happened to me before. it sucks so bad lol. had to alter sukuna's in a way that made more sense for his character. 💕
p.s - though this is fiction, always leave someone alone the moment you find out that they weren't genuine about their intentions. your person/ soulmate wouldn't ever play with your heart like that.
A story about two people lost in the middle of arrangement not one of them wished for. It's about power and danger, hate and love. Will they find a happy ending?
Contents & warnings: arranged marriage, sorcery, idiots searching for love, swear words, nsfw themes — please read warnings to each piece, reader discretion is advised
ART: @orukkart
have an idea for an entry? let me know in ask box!
Patience breeds success. However, Dr. Veritas Ratio's patience has successfully run thin when it comes to the Intelligentsia Guild's new professor.
OR
Dr. Ratio hate reads about you.
wc - 3.4k
A/N - Basically a Dr. Ratio character study, inspired by the Deftones song Needles and Pins.
Veritas Ratio was a Needle.
At least, that is what he saw himself as. He was sharp, precise, and calculated. One had to be in this world full of ignorant minds.
His known prestige amongst scholars was by no accident. Every equation, formula, and theory engraved into his mind was nothing he didn’t want there. His reputation at the Intelligentsia Guild was by no fault other than his own. And he liked it this way.
So when Dr. Veritas Ratio’s curiosity peaks, he will seek out information regardless of what stands in his way. It just so happens that the rumor of a Genius Society member abandoning their ranking to join the Intelligence Guild not only piques his interest but puzzles him quite a bit.
Everything Veritas Ratio has ever done—ever accomplished was with intent. That’s just what a needle does.
And as he reads the passage before him in the worn textbook he fished out of the bookshelves at his university, he intends to figure out your perplexing nature.
“…and discovered five different constellations that are now crucial to Intercosmic Space Travel, earning the name of the ‘Star Lit Genius’ just after finishing her Associates.”
- Excerpt from Exploring the Starlit Genius
A fool.
Ratio closes the bulky biography with a booming thud. The echo can be heard bouncing off the walls of his office.
That is what you were. That is your nature.
A fool is the only description he can think of as he sharply brings his fingers to his lips. Questions bubble inside him, but the one that escapes himself is, “Why?”
Why would anyone do such a thing? The mere thought that someone could leave the Genius Society was baffling. Sure, there probably were some that had left, but that had to be Amber Eras in the past.
It wasn’t ignorance it was foolishness. Perhaps he was right about Genius Society members having a rock up their asses. There was truly nothing that separated them from the mundane, such as himself. They were just as equally subjected to idiocy.
But could you do such a thing?
You. A scholar blessed by Nous! Given a chance—an opportunity.
He scoffs, his head jerking to the side as if catching himself in an act.
He shouldn’t care.
He doesn’t care.
He’s over that.
Ratio sighs and shakes his head. He doesn’t care. You were foolish, that’s all. It was nothing more.
But who might this fool be?
Ratio’s cold finger travels around the textbook's hardcover. He quickly flips through the pages. Frustration is evident on his face as his brows furrow the more pages he turns.
Yet, there’s nothing.
There’s not one picture of you—the fool—that perplexes his mind. Of course, there wouldn’t be. The Genius Society's “holy” standing wouldn’t allow that. So, he’ll just have to wait for the day he meets the deluded “genius.”
“Immediately after finishing her Associates, the Star Lit Genius earned funds from the IPC for her findings, causing the young brilliant mind to venture more deeply into the cosmos.”
- Excerpt form Exploring the Starlit Genius
Time had passed and life went on. It had been a month since Veritas’ initial read of your biography. He had learned much. Such as your main fields of anatomy, pathology, chemistry and of course astronomy. Little details of your past are stored neatly in the back of the Doctor’s mind, but he has had no use for it. The new semester had started and as time went on he too started to carry on. Students plagued his mind instead, yet a star glittered somewhere near.
“Dr. Ratio.”
It’s no voice he’s familiar with. Or maybe one he’s just not accustomed to yet. Most likely a new student in one of his classes.
He doesn’t even bother to look up. Instead he continues to shuffle through his papers with equations and calculations of the new curriculum that he would soon ignore altogether in his lessons.
He sighs. “Students are to ask questions during the appointed time.” His voice lacks any interest whatsoever.
He was tired of students who seemed to think they were special. If anything, the unfamiliar voice is probably a student coming to butter him up before the semester starts to get on his good side.
“Oh, I’m not a student.” Your voice isn’t familiar, but the syllables that roll off your tongue are ever engraved into his mind. His inner consciousness has read the name so much that he can envision the letters.
Before he looks up, a smug grin shows on his face. Finally, he could put the foolish mind to the face. It was a gift, really. You, coming straight to his door. You had done all the work for him.
But then he takes his first look at you.
Veritas Ratio isn’t one to be rendered speechless, but his surprise is evident. His grin drops at the sight of you. Before, he had imagined that he should have put on his mask of marble to forbid his eyes from the sight of such a foolish person. But now his frustrations were fueled even more by the undeniable fact that a fool could look like…you.
“Professor Alvarez said you would be the person to go to regarding any Physics textbooks,” you say, and Ratio comes back to reality as your voice vibrates around the large space. You stand in the wide door frame, hands held together in front of you.
“Ah,” he chokes out. “Our new professor.” He quickly gets up to walk to the bookshelf behind him to rid the sight of you. His steps are light but eager; however, his back stands straight, and his head is held high. This was it? This was the fool he had read about? What a pity, he thinks as he climbs a few steps up the ladder of the bookshelf. Looks wasted on a simpleton.
Ratio tries to change the topic of conversation while trying not to show his evident surprise. “Say, what does an astronomer have that warrants the need for physics?” He questions.
You're quick to answer. “Well, the two are connected, I’m sure you’re aware.”
He is aware—he’s well aware. But he’s also aware of his unwelcomed knowledge of your hatred for anything purely mathematical in any sense, especially physics, which you loathe the most. He even remembers the page clearly in chapter twenty-six, section fou—but that's beside the point. His ever-growing facts about you are a card he cannot yet play. He has only gazed at you for a mere eight seconds. So for now, he will keep his mouth shut.
“I am,” he says confidently, a slight hint of offense in his voice. “Professors here, however usually tend to their specific fields rather than branching off.” His fingers trace the spine of the dusty books before carefully selecting one and then another.
“One of my students is infatuated by the correlation of the two. It’s something that I had no interest in during my years of studying.” The sound of you shuffling your feet bounces off the walls. “I’m forced to learn now I suppose.”
“Whatever for? You’re no physicist,” he scoffs. His hand lingers around a book as he debates himself in his mind.
“To answer my students' questions, of course,” you answer without a second thought.
A genius interested in the pursuit of other’s knowledge. Ratio’s frustrations physically manifest in the form of a silent sigh. An anomaly you were. An Irritating one at that.
He picks up the book.
He doesn’t say anything as he descends the ladder—or when he walks to where you stand with an uninterested look on his face. He simply plops the books in your hands with a quick “Here.” Their weight jolts you down briefly.
“Some of these are limited or editor's copies.” His eyes meet yours for the first time since you came in. “Do try not to dirty them.”
He turns to walk back to his desk, but the sound of your voice stops him.
“Which is your favorite?”
Ratio turns to walk back to you as he looks you up and down. His fingers fish between the books in your arms, and he pulls out one. It’s encased in golden leather. He lifts it up to hold it out in front of you.
Your hand grazes the hardcover. You look at it, eying the author. ‘Professor Emeritus.’ You look up at him with a hint of playfulness in your eyes. It makes him uneasy—like the breath has been sucked out of his lungs. But then you have the nerve to smile at him, and he can feel himself getting hot.
“Thank you,” you say, and you turn away.
His mind races. His heart beats a bit faster. It’s only when the click of your heels are out of earshot and when the doctor is trying to recover in his desk chair that he realizes he’s forgotten to tell you when to bring them back.
“...the only way to transcend the limitations of the individual is to have an academic network of mutual learning.”
- Intelligentsia Guild
He ignores you.
That’s not to say he doesn't see you. Of course, he does. How could one not see you? It has turned into a game over the past two weeks. He must spot you first to make sure you do not spot him.
So he does just that.
He has no use conversing with a Genius Society member turned idiot. He simply gave you those books to help the students you were teaching, nothing more.
So he carries on with his usual routine of avoiding you. Until, there’s a pile of books with ribbon wrapped around them at his office door. But there’s only three of them.
Ratio quickly picks up the stack of books and unlocks his office door. When at his desk, he finally notices the note placed neatly between the book and ribbon.
Thank you for letting me borrow these. They were very insightful. I have saved your recommendation for last. I will bring it back once I have finished it.
He examines your handwriting—your signature—and how the way you write your A’s and H’s differ from him.
As Ratio revels in the fact that you took his word at face value, he examines the books. His fingers caress the covers and flip through the pages.
You made sure not to dirty them.
“To grow and excel as a Scholar is to reconsider. A Hypothesis that is drawn due to stubbornness and ignorance is a hypothesis from no mind worth listening to.”
- Professor Emeritus in “Attentive Beings”
“Come in,” Ratio replies to the three knocks on his study door. This time, he looks up from his reading as soon as he hears the heels click on the polished wooden floor.
You smile at him—book held in hand.
He greets you with another disinterested look as he turns his head back to the papers in front of him. “Did you enjoy it?”
“I certainly did,” you call out. Although he doesn’t look at you, he can hear you walk slowly around his office. He lets out a sigh as he writes down something.
But then your heels click too close to the round table by the window in the corner of his study, and his mouth grows dry. He looks up as he watches you eye the books he had left open on the table, and put the book you had borrowed down. Your fingernails graze the papers slowly, and you turn the page.
“You read about me?”
Ratio’s throat closes up at your question as he scurries to organize the files and loose sheets of paper before him just to occupy his hands. He puts a fist to his lips and clears his throat. “I simply wanted to know more about the new Professor who would teach some of my former students,” he affirms boldly.
“It’s okay.” your eyes lift up from the pages and turn to him with a smile. “I read about you too.”
He’s not surprised. He shouldn’t be surprised. Any good scholar would do that. But something stirs inside him still. His stomach flips from…excitement. This odd feeling goes unnoticed by you as the doctor quickly covers himself with his swift response “Is that so?”
“Mhm,” you hum. You grab the book and slowly make your way closer and closer to his desk—to him. “Your quite the mathematician,” you smile. “…and philosopher.”
His arms fold and his eyes trail your figure as you approach.
“So tell me, after reading this thing.” You hold up the book. “What’s your ‘philosophy’ on me?”
He sits there in silence looking at you.
“Please, Doctor,” you smirk. “Tell us your verdict on the new professor.”
He’s still hesitant. But the look you give him is like fire on his skin, and he wants to rid of it. So he speaks. “Fine, if you must know.” He lets out an exasperated sigh.
“You’re a fool. Through and through.”
“Is that so?”
“The evidence is clear.”
“Do elaborate, Doctor.”
He sighs again. What has he gotten himself into? “You’re an astronomer.”
“That I am,” you smirk. Oh, he hates that smirk of yours. That smile of yours. That face of yours.
“Your an astronomer that hates physics.” Ratio stand subtly and makes his was round his desk to you. “Quite absurd actually.” He crosses his arms and you shift your body to look him in the eye. “You have no interest in anything mathematical when math is the foundation of all that ever was and will ever be.”
“Mhmm.” And there’s that smirk again as you look up at him.
“You’ve done mounds of research, and any organization would want you.” His voice is booming and stern as if he were lecturing one of his students. “Yet, you pick the IPC of all things to give your work to.”
You're a star, you blaze. Yet you choose to be mediocre like him. It's infuriating.
You nod, and he takes a step closer to you. His brows furrow in frustration, and his finger points down at you.
“And the cherry on top is that you’ve chosen to stray from the Erudition and-“
“Leave the genius Society,” you finish.
Your voice strikes him. He flinches backward and his back stiffens. You’re toying with him. He wonders if it is something he’s opposed to.
“Is that why you dislike me, Veritas?”
He’s opposed to it, he concludes. He steps back, and his arms go to his chest once more. “Dislike?” He lets out an exclaimed scoff. “I barely know you, Professor.” He lets the last word roll off his tongue like an insult.
You hold up the book in your hands and read the title to yourself. ‘Exploring the Starlit Genius’
“Barely?” You ask.
“Nonsense,” is all he can claim as he returns to his desk.
You lean over it, your spread out hands creating a mess of his once neatly placed papers. “You make a conscious effort not to meet my eyes around here.”
Ever the observant one you were. But he denies it. “Our paths must have never crossed,” he explains.
You tilt your head with a knowing look as you cross your arms. “Don’t lie Veritas.”
A shiver goes down his spine. He doesn’t know if it's because it’s the first time he’s ever been called a liar or because you’ve just said his first name. It’s been a while since someone called him something other than “Doctor” or “Professor.” At least that's the quick excuse he can come up with on the spot to ease his jittery mind.
He’s caught. He’s finally caught. So he defends his hypothesis.
“I don’t like fools,” he states matter-a-factly. “I tend to stay away from them.”
“But not from me?”
Oh your tongue is clever. Not as clever as his, he reassures himself.
“You seem to know a lot about me.”
He’s red. He knows it. But he cant seem to find something to throw back at you. His quick wit is anywhere but in the present.
“Is it because deep down you know I’m right?” Your face softens.
He stays silent.
“Out of all the literature about me, you’ve chosen that which is not written by me.” You run your hands across the book's cover and place it neatly before him. “You’ve been reading the books with my name on them but have never picked up the ones that I myself created. Why is that?” You smile, but your face shows genuine perplexity.
If he has an answer, he doesn’t tell you. He keeps it to himself. However, the question he asks in response is an answer in itself.
“Why did you leave?” His voice is low—broken even.
Your smile turns into an expression filled with a touch of sadness. “You ask questions you know the answer to?”
“Don't you dare mock me,” he snaps.
“What else are fools good for?”
He’s silent as his lips purse in anger. There are a few beats before he responds. “Teaching.”
Your face lightens in surprise, and your original charming smile returns.
He wants to know. He yearns to know. But when you finally give him his answer, he knows it will burn like fire. He’ll finally have a reason why the thing he fought so much for was not all it was chopped up to be. The younger years of his life–wasted to appease THEM—all for nothing. Although he had reached a place of contentment, there was a little boy still in him who wanted to keep his former fantasy alive.
“The Erudition is something that consumes people as do all Aeons. You know this, right Professor?”
What you say is common sense. He gives you no answer or satisfaction. But he continues to listen attentively.
“All intelligent minds are selfish to some extent. The genius society is filled with people who will pursue knowledge regardless of the people hurt. This includes themselves.In order to be a person of pure logic—a genius…” You pause for a second. “…you must lack empathy to some extent.”
You turn to meet him, and he swears he’s never seen any eyes more beautiful and full of honesty than yours. “And I have too much.”
And then, at your words, something clicks in his brain.
Another smile takes over your lips as you face your body towards him. “And I believe you have more than you let on, Doctor.”
He’s in silence.
He says nothing because he can’t say something.
You walk around to the other side of his desk where he sits. His eyes follow your ever move while you do so. Your hand unlocks the clasp of your satchel and disappears inside. When it comes out, a book appears before him.
He takes it in his hands tenderly and then looks at the title. ‘Philosophy of the Stars,’ he reads to himself. Then his eyes wander to the bottom of the cover, and there’s your name printed in gold. He looks up at you expectantly.
Of course, when his eyes land on your face, your expression is full of glee. “If you wish to learn more about me, I hope you’ll do so through a book with all of my own words.”
You say nothing more as you turn on your heels and leave his office. Leaving Ratio with a feeling of shock and emptiness.
His hand comes up to his face, and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He sits there in silence and realizes…
You are none of what he had made you out to be…
Not a fool. Not an idiot. Not a genius.
But a kind soul.
He realizes that he was good enough. That he was not a fool either. Just a young boy who cared.
His eyes linger on the book you left him— the book that his hands refuse to put down. He opens it to the very first page, and he finds your writing in it and a note that slips out on his lap.
For the mediocre Dr. Veritas Ratio.
Your name is signed as elegantly as before. He puts down the book on his desk and picks up the folded note on his lap.
Feel free to dirty this. But keep it clean if you wish to auction it. It will be worth more with both our names on it, so don’t undersell. It is yours to do with as you please.
One thing Veritas knows for sure is that this book won’t leave his possession in all his years to come.
“THEIR silence was deafening.”
- Genius Society–Erudition, Astral Express Data Bank
Dr. Ratio is sharp, precise, and calculated. He considers himself to be all those things; he is a needle.
But if Dr. Veritas Ratio is a needle, then you are a pin.
Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?
Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)
A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.
You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now.
And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be.
We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…
What?
No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.
You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”
Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird.
Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer.
You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street.
Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.
You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.
Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-
“Oh? Still open?”
“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing.
And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?
“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”
“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”
You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”
Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”
Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”
“Congratulations, Mr…”
“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.”
You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”
“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”
What?
You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”
“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”
There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”
Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”
Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”
“...you do.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”
“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”
And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation.
“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”
That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?”
And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?”
You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”
---
And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from.
“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”
“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.
You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”
Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now.
“Alright. Plan B, then.”
Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”
Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”
At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”
“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”
“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”
It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you?
“Fine.”
The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”
And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”
He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.
Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner.
And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head.
You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.”
“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”
“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly.
“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”
Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”
With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house.
“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins.
Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”
You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app.
“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”
That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.
“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”
It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo.
“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”
Your home, for the next month. At least.
And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in.
“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner.
“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in.
“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”
It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual.
“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed.
Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”
And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.
“Ichiji.”
“Yes, young master.”
“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”
“Of course, young master.”
---
Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside.
Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.
Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…
“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”
Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you.
Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”
“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”
He…didn’t sound like he was joking.
Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”
At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”
“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”
He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”
“For the divorce.”
And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.
You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner.
“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”
And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit.
You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you.
But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.
The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”
Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”
“Only for you.”
Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.
Stammering out, “Corny.”
“Only for-”
“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders.
Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now.
Gathered here - for you.
Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them.
“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”
My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”
It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.
He wins.
“Congratulations. Let us begin now.”
You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.
It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.
Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru’s jaw clenching tighter each second.
Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”
You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”
“A waitress, she said?”
“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”
“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”
The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”
“Mother, be quiet or-”
“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”
Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane.
Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”
Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”
“I understand.”
“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”
“My wife and I are leav-”
“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.”
Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.
His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”
Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily.
“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”
Thud!
It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up.
“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru.
He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold.
“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”
You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”
What the fuck happened?
He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to.
Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.
“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list.
“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”
You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”
That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.
---
“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain.
The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands.
You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”
He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.
“It’ll be alright.” you nod.
And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.
---
Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight.
The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting.
But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it.
“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.
Something else also happened - something different.
Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”
“You wish.”
“Maybe I do.”
Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-
“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”
Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”
The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.”
“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~”
You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”
And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.”
Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger.
Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong.
Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours.
“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”
Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table.
Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before.
“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”
Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.
Were you going insane?
Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”
“Thinking of me?”
Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today.
“Satoru?”
His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic.
Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.
Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”
A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”
Run away. Run away. Run away-
There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.”
“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.”
You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”
“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”
“So go with me instead.”
“What if-”
“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave.
Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”
And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.
It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-
And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru’s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips.
“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.
“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”
He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach.
“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it.
“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”
He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were.
But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.”
And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”
“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.
“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.”
Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”
You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.
“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”
Rip!
The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically.
Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”
“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”
“You’re awful.”
“And yet you married me.”
With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”
He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”
You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub.
Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you.
“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.
“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard. “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”
You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now.
And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?
Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-
“Sh-shit. Toru-”
“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m’ruining your pretty pussy?”
“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.”
He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-
“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please.
“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”
And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”
“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”
“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”
One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him.
“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-” You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.
And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want.
Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue.
“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”
You weren’t going to make it out alive.
Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”
And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear.
“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time.
“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself.
And he sees right through you.
“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”
You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now.
Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.
“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s’too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all.
And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.
“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”
You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back.
Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.”
“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard.
You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.
And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything.
“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”
You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”
“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”
“All yours, Toru.”
And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.
With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot.
“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”
Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.
And exactly where you wanted to be.
You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much.
“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy.
“Close?”
“Mhm…”
“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”
And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.
Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.
And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper.
You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now.
And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him.
Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”
“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”
Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”
“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”
“WHY BE FRIENDS IF WE CAN BE LOVERS?” — WRIOTHESLEY, NEUVILLETTE, ALHAITHAM, & KAMISATO AYATO
in which genshin men decide being friends is not enough. why be friends when you could clearly be so much better as lovers? part two of “we’re just friends, but…” (<- read part one for better understanding of each)
contains: female reader (use of miss, milady/my lady, lovely lady, and madame) ; fluff (slight hints of angst but all happy endings) ; confessions, friends to lovers, wriothesley: implied harassment of reader by an inmate, reader is a doctor at the fortress, angry and possessive wriothesley, jealousy ; neuvillette: reader works at the palais, melusine features, neuvillette is implied to be emotional and make it rain ; alhaitham: mentions of drinking alcohol (alhaitham), vulnerable alhaitham, reader can cook ; ayato: slightly insecure reader, mentions of reader being in a lower class than ayato
WRIOTHESLEY
wriothesley is not a possessive man, despite his feelings for you.
he’s long accepted that somewhere between frequent visits to you in the infirmary and occasional lunches together as fellow colleagues at the fortress, he’s fallen hopelessly hard for you. how could he not, when you’re so gentle-natured, smart, and unfairly pretty?
but still, wriothesley is not a possessive man. when men praise you to the archons and admire your unearthly beautiful smile, he is not possessive. when he grumpily watches your fingers brush against bare chests of the wounded after pankration matches, he is not possessive. when you shyly thank an inmate who rushes to hold a door open for you, he is not possessive.
but even wriothesley has his limits. and they happen to snap over the edge today—because now, as a man corners you against the wall, pestering you until distress is clear on your face, wriothesley feels possessive.
it’s a shameful feeling, but it’s one he can’t help. he’s tolerated many things, enough of them that make him wash down the bitter taste of jealousy with the most soothing tea he can find in his collection. but this? this is beyond the patience of even a kind warden such as himself.
you, whether you or anyone else in this fortress knows it, are his to protect.
so he walks up, fisting the inmate’s shirt and lifting him up to drag away from you, jaw tight and locked as he asks lowly, “is there a problem? if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were giving this lovely lady here some trouble.”
“y-your grace,” the man, to his credit, has a good mind to look remorseful, eyeing you nervously for a moment before rapidly shaking his head. “n-no, i was just…i was just askin’ her if she’d like some help findin’ her way is all. you know the fortress can be confusin’ ’n such.”
the inmate trails off, nervously chuckling as he quivers in the warden’s unforgiving hold.
wriothesley glances at you, raising an unconvinced eyebrow as he asks, “and do you need any help finding your way, miss?”
“no,” you shake your head, voice a bare whisper.
his jaw tightens further, glancing back at the man before he snarls lowly, “then you leave her alone. don’t let me catch you bothering her again, understood?”
“y-yes, your grace!”
wriothesley releases the man’s shirt, crumpled from his iron grip as he stares, eyes narrowed—threatening, even, as he waits for the brave soul (for anyone who bothers you where he’s in charge is the bravest of all souls) to leave. not one moment is wasted before you watch the inmate scramble away, leaving you alone with a tense, disgruntled duke in your hands.
“thank you,” you whisper, “i’m not sure how much longer he’d have bothered me if you hadn’t shown up.”
“anyone else ever try that before?” he seethes. you’ve never seen him so angry before—something about it feels almost personal.
you shake your head, stepping away from the wall as you walk over to him. “no, wriothesley,” you murmur, “no one gives me a hard time. this was a first.”
“let me know if anyone bothers you,” he grunts, fist still clenched even with no shirt to hold like earlier. “i’ll take care of it.”
you eye the way it’s tightly curled, knuckles almost ghostly white from the pressure before you gently grab his hand, working his fingers loose from his tight grip and rubbing a soothing thumb over the crescent mark from his nails along his palm.
“of course,” you smile softly, “though, i’m sure word will spread quickly that the warden doesn’t appreciate his doctor being bothered by persistent men. i don’t think there will be any repeats of this incident.”
he should feel ashamed.
you think so highly of him—defaulting to believing he’d saved you because he was only worried for your wellbeing, and not because it burned him alive to see a man so close to you, a man who desired you just as much as he did and had stooped to such unchivalrous methods to have you.
faintly, he’s aware that your hand is still grasping his, still rubbing a thumb over the angry, red marks along his palm as you study him carefully. he’s sure there’s not much he hides in his expression—you must be reading him like an open book. he can’t bring himself to care, however, not when the sight of someone else pinning you to a wall and towering over you is still so fresh in his head.
“something on your mind, your grace?” you ask, leaning closer.
perhaps, if he was a stronger man, one with more firm principles, he’d know to pull away and give you your space. but you lean closer, and he’s weak to his own desires, so he takes it as an invitation to lean closer himself.
“yes,” he admits, “i…i’m afraid i had less than honorable intentions when stepping in.”
“oh?” you raise a brow, looking at him in fond amusement. maybe you already know, he thinks, if your lack of surprise tells him anything. “enlighten me, then. what were your intentions?”
“to make sure no man comes close to you,” he mumbles, leaning closer while you do the same, your noses just barely brushing as your breath all but mingles.
“why?” you ask. it almost sounds like a plead—like you’re waiting to hear something desperately.
“because it’s unbearable to see you with other men,” he says hoarsely. if you’re uncomfortable, you don’t show it. but he has reason to believe you’re quite the opposite, in fact, when your eyes seem to brighten.
“and if i were to say i appreciate your intentions?” you ask softly.
finally, his jaw loosens—instead, he replaces the clench with a loose, easy grin, one that allows him to chuckle lowly as he stares at you with a playful disbelief.
“that so?” he hums, “perhaps then you’d care to join me for dinner today, milady—i’ll have the finest meal the cafeteria has to offer waiting for you.”
“on a date?” you ask hopefully.
“on a date,” he confirms with a slight nod.
you kiss his cheek, making his breath catch in his throat as you step away and smile gleefully. “i’ll see you at dinner then, your grace.”
NEUVILLETTE
the first day you skip your newfound routine of tea and desserts with neuvillette and the many, many melusines that join, it rains. harshly so, in fact.
you walk up to the palais, soaked from the unexpected weather as you grin sheepishly at a concerned sedene.
“madame!” she gasps, “oh, you’ve been caught in the weather!”
“it’s alright, sedene,” you chuckle, “it’s nothing new in fontaine to have unexpected rain. i suppose i should’ve planned accordingly. is monsieur neuvillette in his office? i have papers for him,” you hold up a file.
sedene fidgets for a moment, hesitant as she says, “yes…he’s in his office but…well, i should warn you that he’s not in the best of moods.”
“oh dear,” you furrow your brows, “how unfortunate. i’ll make it quick. they’re quite urgent papers.”
she nods at your promise—and just before you can turn to leave, she stops you, seemingly debating before making a final comment.
“you didn’t join us today, madame,” she starts, “for tea today during the monsieur’s break.”
“oh,” you tilt your head in surprise for a moment, “you’re right, i didn’t. i apologize if you were waiting on me. i was caught up with much paperwork to finish before i came in.”
“i see. perhaps monsieur neuvillette will appreciate knowing that, then,” she smiles.
before you can ask, she skips away, finding a group of melusines in the corner. you watch as they whisper away behind their paws, blinking back your confusion before walking towards the door of neuvillette’s office, knocking gently.
“monsieur neuvillette? may i come in? i have some papers that must be delivered to you.”
there’s a shuffle from inside, a clearing of the iudex’s throat before a raspy, “yes, of course. come in.”
you enter, walking in slowly as you close the distance between the door and his desk, smiling as you set the file down in your hands. he looks rather…well, you’re not sure, exactly—perhaps the best word would be melancholy. suddenly, sedene’s words from earlier ring in your head, and you wonder if there’s any relation between your absence and his seemingly downcast mood.
so you give him an apologetic look as you speak. “i apologize if my absence was a surprise to you today. it seems i lost track of time with paperwork. i hope you enjoyed a peaceful break with the melusines,” you hum, “you certainly need a proper break with all the duties you take on.”
against your better judgement, you reach over, brushing a strand of misplaced hair from his forehead and tucking it back in place. rarely does the chief justice of fontaine ever look less than prim and proper, if ever at all—and the action causes you to pause just as much as it does him.
he breaks the silence first, and if he notices the slight flustered expression on your face, he doesn’t point it out as he says gently, “it’s quite alright. i’m sure you’re a busy individual.”
“i do quite enjoy my routine visit,” you say shyly, “it was a shame i couldn’t join today. but rest assured, i’ll be present tomorrow.”
“i’m glad to hear it,” he seems to brighten a bit, a gentle smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he admits in a quieter voice, “truthfully, i had assumed you didn’t want to join me—or excuse me, us,” he coughs, correcting himself at the end.
“oh dear,” you furrow your brows, crinkles forming in your forehead as you quickly shake your head, “of course i love joining you. today was a rare occasion, i’m afraid. i hope i didn’t upset you, monsieur.”
“no,” he shakes his head just as quickly. he coughs, clearing his throat as he adds, “it’s just that i…well, i have come to enjoy your company. a little more than i perhaps should.”
he doesn’t meet your gaze, cheeks flushed a gentle shade of pink as you take in his words. silently after a moment, with a bright grin on your face that spreads across your lips and finds itself in the deepest of crinkles in your eyes, you slowly reach over to cup his face.
neuvillette, no matter how trained in self control, cannot help but lean into your touch, staring at you with wide eyes as you rub a delicate circle into the swell of his cheek.
“i’ve come to enjoy your company as well, monsieur. perhaps…perhaps it would be nice to enjoy each other’s company outside of the palais as well,” you offer. and then, eyeing the small opening in the door, you add, “somewhere away from prying eyes.”
neuvillette watches as the door quickly shuts, the soft giggles of the melusines muffled behind the door as he chuckles in amusement. his hand cups the back of your own, cheek laying comfortably in your palm.
“yes,” he murmurs softly, “i think i would love that.”
ALHAITHAM
alhaitham is not drunk today.
you can tell when you open the door because he’s not swaying, or slurring his words, or staring at you with a hazy look. instead, he’s perfectly sober, perfectly rational, and perfectly collected alhaitham.
you look at him in surprise before smiling in greeting.
“you’re not drunk for once,” you murmur, “i don’t think i ever get a visit from you when you’re not drunk.”
the words make him wince a bit—he doesn’t like the implication of that. alhaitham enjoys your company when he’s not inebriated, especially when he’s not inebriated, in fact. mainly because he can actually recall things that way, like the way you laugh and the crinkle of your eyes. but somehow, being drunk has become a bit of a weekly routine for him at the tavern with his friends (which really, is just cyno and tighnari, and of course, kaveh—but kaveh can hardly be considered a friend these days).
coming to your doorstep every week when he’s drunk becomes a byproduct of his habits. he can’t control them, like an involuntary muscle that moves on its own accord without his permission. just like his heart beats and pumps blood, his feet carry him to find you.
it’s natural, autonomic.
“i didn’t want to drink tonight,” he explains, rubbing his neck awkwardly. alhaitham is blunt—speaking his mind is not a complicated task. he’s sure of his thoughts and opinions, and the response people give them is of little concern to him.
but his thoughts aren’t very coherent when they come to you. he’s not sure of even a single thing, in fact. sure, he knows he likes you—really, really likes you. but sometimes, he contemplates if he’s fallen in love with you. he can’t tell, if he’s being honest, because he’s never been in love before. it’s uncharted waters for even someone as knowledgeable as him.
and then there’s the more difficult part. he’s not sure if you feel the same, or if you’d respond positively to the idea of his developed feelings. logic tells him you’re kind, compassionate, deeply understanding. perhaps you’d let him down gently and still consider him a good friend if you don’t feel the same. but for some reason, there’s an illogical part of him. one he doesn’t recognize. one that tells him that you might walk away and never look twice in his direction again as soon as you realize the nature of his feelings.
logic doesn’t win in his mind for once. it hasn’t for a very long time. it’s why he doesn’t tell you for so long how he feels.but tonight he plans to change that.
regardless of your feelings, requited or unrequited, alhaitham will tell you how he feels. he owes you that much, for all the careful care and deduction you put into handling his drunk self. for all the meals you made and let him eat before letting him crash on your couch. for all the cups of coffee you made his hungover self as you carefully tiptoed around your own home so the noise wouldn’t disturb his pounding head.
he clears his throat, fiddling with his fingers as he stares at his feet.
“do you want to come in?” you offer.
he shakes his head. “i don’t think that’s a good idea. i came…i came to say something.”
“i see,” you nod, “then by all means, share what you have to say.”
it’s not so easy. not when he tries to plan the words in his head as he walks to your home, and not when he’s standing before you. alhaitham is a linguist. he speaks over twenty languages, some of which are known to be romantic by nature. he’s read the divinest of poems and decoded the most complicated of hieroglyphics. he, of all people, should excel in putting words together.
but his tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth as he stares at you, though. distantly, he’s aware he must look stupid. standing here, silent and stiff as you stand by your door and wait for him to spit out what he has to say.
so he says the first thing he can think—and it makes his face burn as soon as he realizes what he says. “your sabz meat stew is my favorite.”
you grin, chuckling in amusement as you murmur, “oh my, i’m flattered. you came all this way to praise my cooking?”
“n-no,” he sighs in embarrassment, “that…that’s not what i meant.”
you hum, smiling at him softly as you patiently wait for him to speak again. a part of him feels like you’re aware of something, something that maybe even he’s not aware of himself. but he doesn’t want to dwell on that—perhaps your knowledge is a product of his drunken rambles, and he’s not sure he wants to even begin imagining what that might look like. what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.
“well, if you must know,” you giggle, “i enjoy making your favorite for you.”
“i enjoy your stew,” he mumbles, concentrating for a moment before his face hardens with determination and he looks at you, “i enjoy waking up on your couch, and drinking your coffee, and the way you hum when you get ready for the day. it’s enjoyable because it’s you.”
you process his words for a moment before smile slowly, eyeing him with wonder as you break into a fit of giggles. he doesn’t have time to dwell on whether or not you’re laughing at him because there’s an arm looping around his bicep, pulling him in past your door and pressing him against it as soon as it’s shut.
you’re close—it’s the first thing he notices, chest brushed against his chest as you look up at him with a fond, affectionate expression.
“you’re a smart man, alhaitham,” you murmur, “i’m sure you can figure out why i make your favorite every time you come. and make your coffee just how you like. and let you sleep in on my couch when i could be spending my morning enjoying the sun.”
he wants to tell you that he doesn’t feel very smart when he’s around you. it’s like logic is a foreign concept as soon as your smile invades his line of sight. but words are difficult enough to produce when you’re so close, he doesn’t think he could tell you even if he tried.
instead, he asks, “because you’re kind?”
“not kind enough to do groceries for two every weekend,” you chuckle. “unless…”
“unless…?” he asks breathlessly.
“unless it’s you, silly,” you snort. “do fill in the lines, will you?”
he allows himself to hope. because it doesn’t take logic to let himself hope you feel the same way he does.
“if…” he takes a deep breath, taking a moment to contemplate before boldly settling his hands on your hips, “if i come here next week sober, would you still open the door for me?”
“of course,” you whisper.
“if i came whenever i wanted, would you still open the door for me?” he asks, eyes peering into yours desperately, begging you to tell him what he wants to hear.
you sigh, gently cupping his cheeks as he closes his eyes and shudders. “always,” you breathe, “will you come?”
“yes,” he nods. his shoulders slump—in relief and in pure bliss as he lets his head drop to the crook of your neck, pressing his nose into your warm skin as you cradle the back of his head. “because i enjoy coming home to you.”
“and i enjoy welcoming you home,” you murmur.
and it’s at the same time that you kiss the side of his head and he kisses the soft skin of your neck, a stumbling mess of limbs pressed against one another as you both find your way to collapse on your familiar couch.
KAMISATO AYATO
it’s midnight when there’s a knock on your door. it’s rushed, an incessant tapping against the surface that almost has you concerned, but the familiar face through the peephole eases your worries.
and then it hits you—ayato is here. beyond the question of how he has the time to visit you so unexpectedly, there’s the concern of what people might think if he’s seen here so late, standing outside your door.
“ayato? why are you here?” you look at him in confusion as you open the door, eyebrows furrowing as he smiles at you.
“well, hello. such an enthusiastic greeting you’ve afforded me,” he says playfully, making you roll your eyes. “won’t you even invite me in?”
“well, come on then,” you huff, “it’s always something or another with you.”
“whatever do you mean?” he gasps, a hand pressing to his chest in mock hurt, “i’ve simply come to have a heartfelt conversation.”
“at this hour?” you cross your arms, scoffing at his timing. still, you could never turn him away.
it’s not of any trouble to you—ayato knows it too. but there’s something oddly vulnerable about having him in your home, and unexpectedly at that. suddenly, everything feels out of place and untidy to you, a contrast to the large, sophisticated estate you’re sure he must be used to. you shift on your feet, feeling the scrutinizing gaze of someone as important as the yashiro commissioner, standing in your small home where you have nowhere to hide.
“ah,” he nods in amusement, “how impolite of me. shall i take my departure, then?”
“i could hardly turn the yashiro commissioner away without allowing him to speak,” you shake your head, fighting back a smile as he grins. “pray tell, what could have prompted such a spontaneous visit?”
“i’d like to ask for your hand,” he says bluntly.
you blink, gaping at him in disbelief. ayato has never been cruel—in fact, he’s always been much the opposite. especially to you. he’s become painfully important, a friendship you’ve never expected but cannot fathom existing without now that you have him.
but something about this feels cruel, like he’s aware of the deeper feelings you’ve accidentally let surface in the process, feelings you try to push back desperately. how could the yashiro commissioner be seen with someone so far from his realm? someone so disconnected from his world and status?
you furrow your brows, looking at him unimpressed as you murmur, “that’s hardly funny, ayato. be serious.”
“i am serious,” he tilts his head, “i, kamisato ayato, would like to ask for your hand, milady. if you would be so kind, that is.”
his hand is offered to you—and something in your aches to reach for it. to feel his fingers intertwined with yours, to feel the rough calluses of his hands from years of swordsmanship, to feel the gentle warmth of his palm pressed up against yours.
“i-in marriage?” you ask in utter confusion.
he chuckles, hand still outstretched as he raises an eyebrow. “well, i figured marriage would be a bit sudden, but far be it from me to deny such an enthusiastic idea.”
you’re not sure why (or maybe you are, and you simply hate to admit it), but there’s a burning sting in the back of your eyes. something bubbling between humiliation and hurt and flooding in the form of tears as you stare at him unsure if he’s lost his mind, or if he’s simply joking at your expense.
ayato has never made you feel like a victim of casual cruelty from his end, so a small part of you wonders if he’s truly serious. but the more logical part of you tells you that if not a mere attempt at playfulness, what else could this be?
“this isn’t funny,” you whisper, voice small. “i hardly find such pranks entertaining, ayato. i thought you to be better than that.”
it’s silent. deafeningly so, in fact.
his hand drops—slowly, hesitant as he eyes you in uncertainty. he takes a step towards you, closing the distance enough to notice every small detail of your face, but leaving enough of a gap so as not to overstep.
“i hardly find any entertainment in offering myself up, either,” he murmurs, “do reject me gently if you intend to. i’m afraid my age is catching up to me—i have a weak heart.”
“you’re hardly old,” you snort, watching him suppress a smile as he studies you. “you’re really being serious?”
“do you doubt me?”
“i suppose not,” you whisper. his hand extends to you again, something hopeful in his eyes, something almost desperate as he stares at you and waits for you to finally take it in your grasp.
your hand slowly finds his, fingertips grazing those calluses you’ve noticed for so long, rough and firm under the delicateness of your touch. finally, it hits you he came without gloves on, and you realize it must be for the chance of feeling your skin against his, bare touch with no fabric to separate either of you.
you feel him, taking in the years and years of training that show through such toughened skin, and he watches you carefully as you trace along his palm before flattening your own against him, slowly lacing your fingers together.
“i have found the man who attacked you,” he says quietly, “and i’m ashamed to admit the…unsavory methods i was prepared to take to punish his crimes.”
“i hope you wouldn’t stoop to such levels for me,” you say quietly.
“i fear there isn’t much i wouldn’t resort to for your safety,” he admits.
“i’m hardly worth such trouble,” you shake your head, smiling softly as you reach over and cup his cheek, thumb brushing gently against the mole you’ve always ached to feel. whether from the brush of your lips or from the graze of your thumb, you’ve always wondered how it’d feel. “there are much more worthy women to be the object of your affections, my lord.”
“ayato,” he corrects. it sounds like a plead, if you listen carefully. “and not to me,” he shakes his head. “it’s you i desire. i’m afraid i cannot concentrate on my duties until i have you. the nation shall befall a most unfortunate fate if i must suffer a single night more without having you.”
“i’m starting to think i am the only hope inazuma has left,” you roll your eyes, staring at him in wonder, “it seems it has fallen to me to ensure we have a functioning yashiro commissioner.”
“i do hope you’ll take such responsibilities seriously.” his hand lays over your own, keeping your touch in place as he leans his face into your palm further, closing his eyes and relishing in your touch.
“oh, ayato,” you chuckle breathlessly, eyes watery as you step closer, closing the gap until your chest presses against his. you wonder if he can hear the rapid thrumming of your heart, if he can feel it. “you’ll be the death of me.”
“i should hope not,” he chuckles, leaning closer and closer until his lips hover over yours, just a millimeter away from brushing against them, “i fear for my own sanity should such an ill fate come before you.”
“oh kiss me, you fool,” you scoff tiredly at his antics.
he doesn’t waste a moment, pressing his lips hungrily against yours, hands wandering to your waist and instantly pulling you closer, fitting his palm to cradle the small of your back. he chases your lips frantically when you pull away, a low grunt of disapproval rumbling from his chest before he plants his lips against yours once more. he kisses you like he’s crossed oceans upon oceans to find you, fixed on keeping you not more than a fingertips distance away at all times so that he’ll never lose you again.
and finally—finally, once he’s decided he’s sufficiently stolen the air from your lungs, he allows you to pull back and breathe.
“i’m afraid i can be a rather overbearing lover,” he murmurs against your lips, pecking them lightly. “you’ll hardly be free of me should i desire your company.”
you chuckle, leaning to kiss his mole softly, cradling his face. “i believe i’ll find a way to cope,” you grin.
ayato was fun to write last time, and he was just as fun to write this time and i am realizing i have some real hidden feelings for the man the more i write him. i really enjoy doing his dialogue, though i’m not sure if i do it justice. i sure hope i do 🥹
headcanons about what these hsr men do in a relationship witth you <3
cw: x reader, gn! reader (no physical descriptions), mostly fluff, sfw, headcanon style
notes: hsr brainrot… ahahaha... i hope i have a fairly good grasp on these characters and wrote them well.
wc: ~1050 words, around 350 words per character. all under the cut!
feel free to drop an ask or to add on to my thoughts! likes + rbs are appreciated <3
✎ Dr. Ratio:
He likes parallel play, or being alone together with you. He works on his own projects, like grading papers or writing a new thesis while you’re doing your own thing, like playing video games or reading. Occasionally, he might ask you for your input, such as ideas about his next thesis or what pose he should sculpt himself into next.
He has a spare desk and chair for you in his office. You can choose to do work or entertain yourself there when you visit him and he’s still teaching a lecture, but feel free to take a nap on the plush sofa he bought just for you.
He will nag you about your health but in an annoyingly endearing way. He fusses over you, telling you about appropriate attire for today’s weather, offering you an umbrella, and reminding you to drink water.
He entertains all your ideas, no matter how silly or illogical. He’ll hear you out on anything you say, though he might have some very strong disagreements or objections to your ideas, especially if they are silly or completely nonsensical. However, he never turns you away when you bound up to him with a mischievous gleam in your eyes - he just sighs and prepares himself mentally to hear whatever goofiness comes out of your mouth.
He’s your biggest cheerleader, supporter, and advocate. Though he may come off as intimidating, he is always willing to help advance your career or work. He has many connections and vast knowledge of the universe after all - why not utilize them for his beloved?
He’s very good at dispelling any irrational thoughts in your head. If you’re panicking and your mind is disoriented, he’ll sit next to you and hold your hand gently, but firmly to ground you. He doesn’t speak at all when you vent out all your frustration, confusion, or anger - rather, he’s silently contemplative and then asks questions when you finish talking. He’ll indirectly guide you to a solution while gently calming you down as he dispels those pesky thoughts from your head.
He makes a custom alabaster head for you.
♤ Aventurine:
A big fan of matching accessories and clothing. You don’t need to wear the exact same outfit, but he likes wearing complementary colors and jewelry to yours.
If you’d like, he’d be more than happy to bring you to casinos and public events with him. He wants to show off to you and let you witness his wit, talent, and skill like a peacock presenting its colorful feathers.
He likes it a lot when you trace his skin through the spade-shaped hole in his outfit.
He hates the feeling of being vulnerable, but he likes being around you. This creates conflicting emotions inside of him. Oftentimes, he doesn’t know how to deal with it and just lurks by you. Pull him into a hug to quiet the voices in his head.
He will send you packages or luxury items from the planets he’s visiting. You’ll be greeting a disgruntled Topaz or IPC soldiers at your door as they hand you various gifts ranging from limited-edition jewelry to flowers that bloom only once every 200 amber eras. He gifts extremely grand things, but he always knows how to find things that suit your tastes.
He’s a big spender on you. If you’re unused to the amount of money he’s willing to throw at you, he’s going to give you a lot of “exposure therapy” with his generosity. He’ll invite you to private auctions, lavish galas, luxury boutiques, and high-end jewelry stores. He’ll start filling your wardrobe with tailor-made clothes with the excuse that you should match his outfits when you attend formal events together, but his clothing contributions eventually infiltrate your closet pretty deeply.
He enjoys being pampered and pampering you. Self-care nights are a must - as a representative of the IPC and one of the ten Stonehearts, he has to keep himself presentable and looking sharp, and that goes for his partner too! He’s more than happy to spend money to fund your trips to the salon or buy you any beauty products to use at home. He’d love to put on face masks together and share a drink or two with you.
☠︎︎ Blade:
If you want to, and Elio’s script permits, he will bring you along on missions to safer planets. He’ll drop you off at a commercial district - feel free to go shopping or try out some novelty food while he wraps up his Stellaron Hunter business.
He likes getting his hair brushed. One of his favorite activities is sitting down and letting you comb through his hair after he cleans up from a mission. It’s an activity that leaves him vulnerable, but he doesn’t mind if it’s with you.
He’s an acts of service kind of guy. He moves to take your bags before you even say anything, holds open doors, and pulls out chairs for you. Brings you a cup of water and some fruit when you’ve been working for too long, and silently drapes his jacket over you when you shiver.
Tell him you like a certain pastry and he’ll show up every day and bring some. Show him a picture of a pretty flower and he’s boarding a spaceship to bring the flower to you personally. If you want something, he’ll do his best to get it.
He’s pretty quiet, but he’ll remember everything you say, what your preferences are, and what you like. He secretly writes it down in case his memory gets murky, and he’ll often reread his notes to remind himself.
He gives simple but traditional gifts to you, such as jade bracelets and pendants, and combs and hairpins if you have longer hair to wear or use them.*
He’ll treasure anything you gift to him. If you make an accessory for him, he wears it at all times. If your gift is small enough, he’ll stow it safely in his pockets and take it everywhere with him.
If family is important to you, he’ll send funds their way and ensure that they’re taken care of.
As someone who’s often dead and then undead, his body can get stiff. He’ll enjoy it immensely if you massage him, and accompany him for his daily stretches and calisthenics. Even if you just hold him for a while, he finds that his muscles will relax from the warmth emitting from your body. Therefore, he quite appreciates having you physically near him.
* Combs, hairpins, Jade bracelets, and pendants were given as tokens of love and affection in Ancient China. These gifts have a deeper meaning/symbolism, but for the sake of post length, I did not write them all out.
☆. contains: bf!toji fushiguro x gn!reader; mild angst with comfort (they had an argument oh no), toji learns how to apologize, toji is in love wc: 2.3k
your throat is sore and your eyes burn. you're tired and sad and upset and you just want it to be over already. but his sharp words swim laps in your head and you can't think about anything else. the ceiling of your shared living room is the only form of solace at this point, the shadows of the street putting on a show just for you.
the warm light of the lamps that stand tall behind the apartment window use the ceiling as a canvas, the passing cars as little characters running around. you hear hollering – it's saturday night, people are having fun. and you're curled up on the sad couch with a sniveling nose.
you hear steps and the bathroom door clicking shut and you use the moment to grab your stuff; a pillow, a blanket and a change of clothes – the very same sad couch will be your best friend tonight.
he turns on the water and you stand behind the door, longingly staring at the wood, wishing the night had gone differently.
but it didn't. so, you put on your pyjamas and sink into the couch. letting a few last tears fall from your eyes, you try to get some rest.
try.
while you're cocooning yourself away from the world, toji is staring at his own reflection in the foggy mirror. hands splayed on the cold countertop, his head hangs low and the running water turns into a muffled sound in his ears; dark strands of hair fall in front of his exhausted eyes, and he too, can't stop thinking about his own words.
regret fills his veins, threatening to explode under his skin. he can't tear his eyes from the disappearing reflection, the steam covering up more and more of the glass, hiding his guilty stare. his heart beats in morse code, calling out your name with every breath he takes but he's still stuck in this tiny shrinking room while you're out there – in the dark, in the cold, drowning in the impact of his words. he didn't mean them, he didn't. toji squeezes his eyes shut and his head drops to his chest. he thinks about your trembling hands and your shaky voice.
a sigh.
a miserable one.
he drops his towel and stands under the hot water. the warmth takes him in but it's nothing compared to you. the droplets comb through his hair but it's nothing compared to you. they cascade down his scarred shoulders and the muscles of his back, but it's nothing.
compared to you.
the smell of the shampoo makes him want to vomit. your shampoo. his shampoo. he rubs at his scalp and lets the suds drip over his face. he scrubs his body and he wishes he could do it harder. he hopes that you're sleeping well. no, he doesn't. he wants to say goodnight to you.
he tilts his head up towards the shower head and closes his eyes, letting the water run over his neck and his adam's apple, washing away all of the remaining ugly words that might've still been lurking in his throat.
he turns the water off and steps out. only throwing on his sweatpants, he doesn't even bother drying himself off, he just needs... you. he needs to hold you, he needs to hear you. he needs to feel his heartbeat.
one step out of the bathroom and toji can already see the corner of your blanket hanging from the edge of the couch. he fists the material of his pants at his side as he breathes out. it hurts. slowly, he approaches your bundled up body, trying to figure out whether you're already asleep or not. your face is hidden in the pillow, your back facing him and he just wants to see you.
"leave me alone."
it hurts.
his head falls back, his eyes raking over the faint shadows on the ceiling. a car honks on the street below, the wind blows behind your cracked open window. his chest feels heavy, his shoulders hurt.
"why aren't you in bed?"
quiet. you think about not answering. you thought about not talking to him throughout the entire night, but now that he's here... it's harder than you thought.
"because you're mean. and you hurt my feelings." your fingers dig into the pillow under your head. "and i don't want to fucking see you."
his knee cracks when he squats down beside you. his fingers itch to play with the ends of your hair, to pull you into his body and never let you leave.
"well, thank god you can't see anything when yer sleeping then, hm."
he's infuriating. he sounds tired. you want to slap him, you want to push him away. you hate that you can hear strain in his voice. you want him to say that he's sorry. you want to hold him. you want him to show that he cares.
leaving the safe confines of the warm blanket, you whip your head towards him. the light coming from the outside is barely enough to show you his eyes. they're soft, softer than you've ever seen them before. a dark forest; the green circular windows are pleading for you. please, don't be scared of what's inside.
"no arguments for the first two statements?"
you're a inches away from bumping your nose against his, your warm breath hitting his skin as you scoff. the pain is still there, slowly but surely turning into anger but he understands.
"i'm– trying, yeah?"
your eyes flick between his, searching for... something.
"why is your own pride more important than my feelings, toji?"
...
he fucking hates the way you're looking at him. loathes.
you look exhausted too, eyes swollen from all of the crying from before and now there are fresh tears forming in the corners of them.
because of him.
why is his pride more important? it isn't. it isn't, it isn't, it isn't. and yet... silence. something scratches in his throat – it wants to get out but it's hard. a drop rolls over the apple of your cheek and his head falls against your shoulder with a sigh. you don't push him away, you don't invite him in either. why is it so hard for him?
"i just feel like you don't care at all sometimes. when you refuse to apologize – it seems like we're competing against each other but i don't even know what the game is."
your voice is shaky and you're doing your best to come off as composed as you can because you want him to hear you out. you're scared he's going to brush you off. again.
he fiddles with the edge of your blanket, his weight heavy on your body.
"apologizing doesn't make you weak, you know. you're not losing anything – toji, we're not competing over anything. it would simply show that..." you take a big breath in, and let a big one out. "it would show that you do care. that you listen to me, that you want me here."
somebody laughs in the distance. toji smells so good. you close your eyes and focus on what you're about to say.
"it's okay for it to be hard, i don't expect you to spill it right away but it is important to me. i need to know that you're not just dusting away my feelings just because you find them difficult to deal with."
pulling your one hand from under the covers, you let it dig into his wet dark locks. your shampoo, his shampoo.
"but if they are too difficult to deal with..." you trail off, your own thought making more tears fall from the corners of your eyes. he buries his forehead into your body as you play with the hair on the nape of his neck and you feel his fingers digging into your blanket.
"don't say that... fuck– please, don't say that."
"i can't do it like this, toji. i'm not gonna apologize for being emotional. i'm not gonna apologize for being myself, for being alive." you hiccup. "i'm not gonna apologize for not being a brick fucking wall."
"i know, sweetheart, i know."
"do you?"
his teeth sink into his bottom lip and he thinks about your smile. about how your eyes shine in the warm sunlight. how you cling to him even when in your sleep. how you keep ruffling his hair even though he pretends to hate it. how cute you look when you steal his massive sweatshirts. how comforting your voice sounds, how well your hand fits into his. how intently you always listen to him, how you wash his back after a long day at work. how stupid your jokes are. and how much he lo—
...
how much he loves you.
your fingers comb through his hair and you're still coddling him despite the fact that you're upset. and sad, and angry. he thinks about how he doesn't deserve you. how you'd be better off with someone else.
he feels you falter, just a bit, and he knows he's wasting time. you're tired and you want to sleep and you want to feel his love. you want to hear it. and nothing gets to be more important than you. he makes that promise in his head, in his heart.
his sun, his moon, his stars. the smell of coffee in the morning and the feeling of your arms around his waist. his everything.
"i'm..."
fuck.
you turn your body, now fully laying on your back, and pull his head against your chest. he listens to your heartbeat and his hands snake around your middle.
"i love you."
he knows for a fact that you're too good for him.
he hasn't even said it yet but you're determined to let him know how you feel. he knows it's not meant as an encouragement either – you're completely bare before him; honest and straightforward, meagerly waiting for him to do the same. hoping he'll do the same. he's not stupid, he knows your patience is running low but you're still trying. still giving him the chance to do right by you because you want him to do right by you.
he gives you a squeeze, nuzzling his face into chest as if he could somehow reach your ribcage that way. he knows his rough hands have to work overtime to hold your big delicate heart and he's scared.
but your heart is probably scared too, isn't it? wouldn't it be scary to be held by these calloused hands; hands that only know pain and hurt?
this is how it goes. you're both scared and you'll both hold each other. whispering praise into the other's ears, regardless of the fear of getting hurt. trust – it's about trust.
i love you. you make me feel safe. stay with me. let me get that for you. let's shower together. i made you coffee. i want you to come with me. hold my hand. kiss me. hug me. hold me. i want you.
i trust you.
"i'm sorry."
...
muffled, and spoken into your skin – it's enough. it's more than enough for you.
soft, warm hands cradle his jaw and raise his head from your chest. soft, warm eyes hold his gaze and he knows his on the right path.
"fuck–" a shaky laugh; his own emotions are swallowing him whole and you're the only thing holding him up. he watches your lips curl up and relief takes over. he melts into your touch and you guide him to your lips.
you hold him there for a moment – noses touching, breaths mingling together. "thank you."
a bear hug, a high-five, a burst of laughter. an ocean wave – intense, and a lot. freeing. the feeling washes over him and he lets himself sink into you. lips against lips, chests against chests, hearts against hearts; without parting from you, toji climbs onto the couch, resting his entire body on top of yours. you don't complain.
he breathes you in and you do the same. he leans to the right and you do the same. he keeps you close and you do the same. his hand kneads the soft flesh of your waist and your hand rakes through his still wet hair. it feels right. it is right.
toji scrambles to push the blanket from between your bodies, desperate to rid of the barrier that's keeping him from his beloved. his rough hands push your shirt up just enough to feel your skin against his. he sighs into your mouth and he feels you smile against him.
your hands clasp behind his neck, pulling him flush to you and you hook your leg over his hip. latched together, forged together.
"i love you." a murmur, accompanied by a kiss to the corner of your lips. he places another onto the curve of your jaw before hiding his face in the crook of your neck.
you turn your head and press your lips to his forehead. "i love you, too."
he's warm and his arms feel so good around you. he's heavy, borderline crushing you under him but you wouldn't have it any other way. you're also a breath away from falling off the couch but you know he wouldn't let you do that. not today at least.
right now, toji is determined to keep you safely in his arms until one of you is dying of hunger and thirst. absolutely nothing else will make him move – he just might let you piss your pants if it comes to that.
for the sake of love, of course.
in all timelines, in all possibilities @melonmako - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
