kafka encouraging yan blade's behavior and even helping him in his questionable endeavors ...
the selfish decisiveness his mara evokes vanishes when his lucidity reigns. he's less sure of himself. specifically, of his conduct. how much of your happiness can he sacrifice for his own? he doesn't want you to be miserable. he doesn't even need you to like him, necessarily. although he'd greedily devour your favor, should you bestow it upon him.
blade experiences this pleasant rush when watching you go about your daily activities. how your voice takes a soft cadence to soothe a crying child, when you help an elderly neighbor bring in their groceries, the supernovas born in your eyes when you learn your favorite drink had been paid for by a stranger (him). it's organic, it's you — uninhibited, stumbling around through life.
he could take so much. he could ruin you. he could drain every ounce of goodness from your body like a parasite. he's acutely aware of this, even derives a sick satisfaction from it, if he's honest. you're in the palm of his scarred hands. this is the focal point of his dilemma. should his grasp loosen, you'll fall through his fingers. however, if his fist clenches too tight, you'll break.
blade doesn't want you broken. he just wants you. smiling, laughing, whole.
everything you wouldn't be if he acted on his impulses.
kafka, vigilant as ever, picks up on blade's morose mood. she knows what's troubling him before he even parses it out for himself. and so her gentle suggestions begin, woven so subtle at first, that they almost go unnoticed. she stresses how safe you'd be under his dutiful watch. that you wouldn't want for anything. how if he shares parts of his past, you, being the bleeding heart that you are, won't be able resist empathizing.
sometimes, she'll tell him, a gentle hold is the trickiest to escape.
he might not acknowledge her advice outright, but as time ticks on, each lonely night feeling colder than the last, he wonders how much longer he can go without your warmth.
WIAT WAIT ONE LAST VISION;;; ONE LAST CURJMAKSMDSA
When you put on an outfit for the day that you put effort into, that you feel good and happy in and that makes you feel so so comfortable in your own skin, the first thing you do is always show it to Wriothesley, grinning and looking so happy with yourself.
You gush about the things you've paired together, how they compliment each other and how they compliment you. You stick out your feet so he can see your shoes. You tell him about the small details that no one else would notice that absolutely make this outfit for you.
And that? That absolutely melts his heart. Every single time. He drops everything in hand to admire you head to toe. Tells you to do a little spin and lets you talk as much as you want about what you're wearing. He listens to every word. Gives loads of compliments about how you look great, how you look sooo good. How you're glowing.
He reacts the same way each time, whistling low when you run up to him and show him your outfit of the day and absolutely showering you in praise. Makes note of the clothes and the fabric and the patterns you like too, just so he can sneak a couple of them into your closet when you're not looking. He never minds the price, never minds the time he has to take out of his day to buy these little surprises for you. Because seeing you run up to him the next day, clad in whatever he had gotten you, jumping into his arms and telling you that you absolutely love it and that you're gonna wear it everywhere? That's worth everything and more.
very late secret santa present for @oshitgirlie !! (you better like dan heng) disclaimer: can be read as platonic, some xreader implied. gender neutral reader 💪
family is a touchy subject for dan heng.
as someone who has been alone for as long as he was, he felt like he was better off without a family. better off alone, even if it was so terribly lonely.
sure, the astral express took him in and he’s grateful for them but even so, he couldn’t help but be a little…withdrawn.
although, things have changed a little bit since you came around. for better or for worse, he couldn’t be so sure.
welt and himeko were content with staying out of whatever the rest of you were up to, much to dan heng’s chagrin because you and march 7th would always find a way to include him somehow.
and he wasn’t too far off the mark this time.
“what do you want?” he asks, expression almost bored as he stares you and march 7th down.
“we were planning on stopping by jarilo vi to pick up a christmas tree! do you want to come with?” march asks, eyes almost glittering with excitement.
he turns to you next and you seem to be wearing much the same expression as her.
he exhales loudly, the combined pressure of both of your expectant gazes breaking his resolve.
“just this one time.”
of course, that was a lie.
a few days later you’re knocking at his door.
“could you help us decorate the christmas tree? please, please, please?” and well, you said please three times so how could he say no?
and then there was, “we’re making wreaths for our doors! would you like to join us?” and alright, that one sounded a little bit intriguing so he did.
“we’re making a gingerbread house! wanna join?”,“christmas song karaoke!” and “we’re getting drunk and watching the worst hallmark movies ever made, you need to join.”
by the end of the hallmark movie marathon, dan heng’s mind was made. the next time you ask him to join you for a christmas-themed activity, he will say no.
another knock at his door, dan heng’s will is iron clad.
“come on loser, put on your best clothes, we’re having christmas dinner!” march 7th says.
dan heng sighs loudly, “for the love of– how many more christmas-themed activities do you guys have planned?”
“uh…just this one. we’re moving on to new year themed activities next week, of course.” she explains.
“that’s not what i–"
“there will be mashed potatoes, if that’s what you’re worried about.” you poke your head into the room.
“again, that’s not what i–“
“anyway, we’ll be heading out now. still need to check on mr. yang and himeko. you should put on that one suit you never wear.” march says while dragging you with her.
and…they’re gone.
dan heng sighs, if he isn’t ready by the time they’re back again he wouldn’t hear the end of it.
so he reluctantly, puts on a dress shirt. no blazer because that would be overkill.
true to their words, you knock on dan heng’s door again.
“you done? we’re all waiting for you.” he hears your voice on the other end, and he’s thanking his lucky stars that it’s just you and not march.
he opens the door, a brief pause ensues.
“so…new outfit, huh.” you comment awkwardly. of course you noticed.
“you too. march make you dress up?”
“yeah.”
“figures.” he says while walking with you towards the parlor room. it did seem like something she would pick out. it was a little…out there.
“you look good.” he says, off handedly as he holds the door open for you (you had a hard time explaining to march why you were looking like a tomato afterwards).
and so it goes.
march 7th started an intriguing discussion about which of the three had “eldest sibling energy” (as she put it), over dinner. (everyone one unanimously agreed that it was dan heng).
pompom was wounded by your assumption that they would be the family pet, mr. yang turned out to be a lightweight, you and march 7th were incredibly engrossed in your debate about whether or not mariah carey really was the queen of christmas…and overall, it was terrible.
dan heng wasn’t supposed to find this entire situation amusing. and, he would’ve probably gotten up and left already on any other day.
“dan heng! back me up here, there’s no way you’d let them slander the queen, would you?” a question from march 7th breaks him out of his reverie.
“if anyone deserves the title of christmas royalty, it’s bing crosby and we all know that. i’m sorry you’re delusional.” you shoot back, looking at him for support.
and dan heng can’t help the small smile on his face when he realizes that you’re both trying to include him, yet again.
how many times has this happened now?
“oi, anyone in there?” an intrusive tap on his head and it all comes crashing down. perhaps, he gives you guys more credit than it’s due.
his stern glare is back on his face again, “what?”
“now that’s more like it! anyway, we were saying–“
and as christmas dinner comes to a close, he really isn’t so mad anymore. perhaps he will be, when you’re both knocking on his door for the nth time tomorrow, “transitioning to new year themed activities” (as march put it).
but for tonight? he’s content with watching the chaos go down.
Crackfic challenge: write a smut scene, but you MUST* take every Grammarly suggestion, no matter how unhinged.
*You can choose whether to make an exception for canon names
「 ### : 」 Modern AU ish !! Reader’s weight/size/etc. is not mentioned !! Imo Wrio is strong as fuck, so it literally doesn’t matter how much you weigh because this mf will have you sit on his back while he does push ups and will come out invigorated and wanting to do like 20 more, but this is a warning just in case it breaks your immersion !!
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
Wriothesley wraps his arms around your middle, tugging you in close so you’re pressed up against his chest. You fight back the urge to melt into his warmth and give in to his ridiculous request. The cheeky smile he wears —undoubtedly aware of the effect he has on you— makes you grit your teeth and steel yourself out of pure spite.
“Sweetheart,” he coos, honey sweet and trying to be convincing.
“Wriothesley. No.”
“Sweetheart, baby,” he tries again, leaning to murmur it in your ear— the unfair, cheating shit. You’re not sure if you want to punch him or kiss his stupid face. “Love of my life. Person I’m gonna marry. Apple of my eye. Snookums—“
“Shut your mouth.” But he does not, and you’re on the verge of strangling him.
“Honey. Pookie bear.“ He grins, holding you tighter so you’re subject to listening to all the stupid ass nicknames he can call you. “My little discord kitten—“
At the sheer cringe and secondhand embarrassment, you slap a hand over his mouth with a grimace. It works, kind of. Wriothesley’s barrage of nicknames is silenced, but you can practically feel his smirk against your palm. You’re painfully aware of the firm but gentle hold he still keeps on you— painfully aware of how you’re probably fighting a losing battle when he’s this dead set on something.
“I am not going to sit on your back while you do push ups,” you say, and that smirk melts into a pouty little frown. “I already told you it’s dangerous. You could get hurt or something.”
He pulls your hand off his mouth by the wrist, expression looking less-than-pleased. “Sweetheart, if you think that I can’t lift you, then I must be doing something terribly, terribly wrong.”
“But if you’re worried about me, then how about this—“ he presses your hand to his cheek, holding it there with his own so he can lean into your touch and peck a quick kiss to your palm. “You sit on my back while I do my routine, but if you ever think that I’m pushing myself or I’m getting tired, then you can hop off and go back to what you were doing, okay?”
You bite the inside of your cheek, but in the end you’re weak to him when he’s this sweet to you, and all you can do is sigh a small, ‘fine.’ If it makes him happy, then why the hell not—
And later, with Wriothesley in that unfairly flattering black compression shirt and you sat on his back, you absolutely eat your words. You can only sit in silent shock and hardly hidden appreciation when the man goes through more than half of the reps for his first set.
“Holy shit,” you murmur, watching in astonishment how he easily pushes up with your combined weight, not a single muscle trembling in overexertion. He’s not at all rushed, taking his time with each upwards lift so as to not jostle you. Wriothesley can hear the awe in your voice, and has the audacity to chuckle. He’s not even breathless.
“What did I say, sweetheart?” He sounds smug, proud— undoubtedly delighted to be able to show off in front of you. Like a puppy who was told he did a good job. You kind of want to kiss him. “So, want to help me out tomorrow, too?”
Everyone knows that Wriothesley is practically one of the most influential people in the entirety of Fontaine, and he has to kneel for no one. Few people are important enough to warrant such a thing from someone of his rank, after all.
So imagine your surprise one sweet spring day as you take a lakeside walk with him on the surface, hand in hand, only to pause when you feel his hand slip from yours and hear his steps slow behind you. You turn, wondering if he's alright, only to find Wriothesley on one knee, a shy smile on his face and a dazzling ring in hand, the question of a lifetime together on his lips. His smile is nervous, just on the verge of shy as he kneels, asking if you'd do him the honor of having him as your husband.
Because hardly anyone is important enough to bring the duke of Meropide to his knees, but no one is as important as you.
in which: alhaitham isn't jealous, he doesn't get jealous, so what is this suffocating feeling in his chest that only happens when you're talking to another man that isn't him?
warnings: 5.4k words, jealous!alhaitham x gn!reader who has loads of rizz, university!au, fluff with angst but happy ending, pining!alhaitham who doesn't realise that he loves you, kaveh is there, mention of cyno, ooc at some bits?, swearing, alhaitham is a little bit of an asshole at some parts sawry. he's bad with feelings.
a/n: inspired by @danijaci's jealous jealous boy comic with alhaitham! hi dani if you're reading this pls don't perceive me... hides... but i hope you all like it :,)
Alhaitham isn’t jealous.
The uncomfortable feeling obstructing itself in his throat is just because he’s beginning to develop a sore throat- that’s all. It is flu season after all, who knows what kind of bacteria are in the air? Ones capable of lathing an uncomfortable oil that burns inside his chest, the smog crowding its way into his heart, sickening him to his core as Alhaitham can’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation happening beside him.
“I’m free friday,” a voice besides you confirms.
“Okay!” you cheer, sounding a little too happy for Alhaitham’s liking. After all, it’s 9 am, who has this much energy in the morning? “lets do Friday then!”
“Sounds good, I’ll see you then. Bye Y/n.”
“Bye, see you!” Alhaitham watches from the corner of his eye as you wave to the random stranger you’ve decided to associate yourself with before finally taking the seat beside him with a sigh.
He doesn’t say anything to you, feeling your eyes glance at him expectantly as he stares stubbornly at the lecture board instead of acknowledging you or the jumble of feelings clogging up his diaphragm.
“Hello, you,” You lean over slightly, careful to not invade his personal space whilst waving at him, hoping to catch his attention. He glances at you, nodding in greeting before returning to his book, the pages and rows of words only fuelling his unease he suddenly felt. He doesn’t even know where he left off, the book’s events a blur in Alhaitham’s mind.
How bothersome. What’s happening to him?
“Talkative today, aren’t you?” Your tone is playful despite his cold attitude and Alhaitham sneaks another look in your direction, noting the way your lips curve upwards. “So, how are you?”
“I’m fine,” he murmurs, inserting a bookmark between the pages before slamming it shut, an indicator that you could keep conversing with him.
“Cool.” You tap your nails on the desks of the lecture hall. “Oh, I finished my essay the other day.”
“The one for your elective?”
You hum in agreement, “I hope I never get it back. Submitted it ten minutes before the due date.”
“You know you wouldn’t have been stressed over it if you just started it earlier-”
“I know, I know,” you huff, “spare your productivity lectures for another time, I’ll be needing them later in the semester.” The grey-haired shakes his head as you laugh, but his gaze returns to the front cover of his book as he solemnly thinks about the interaction you had with another man, right in front of him.
(What right did he have to see you smiling so earnestly like that?)
“Who was that?” Alhaitham coughs out, barely choking down his pride in time to make space for the question.
You murmur some guy’s name that he doesn’t bother to remember. “He’s a friend of mine in the same discussion group for this course and we decided to do the assignment together. He bumped into me on the way in so we were just planning when to meet to do the research.”
“Oh.” Your answer doesn’t calm the churning in Alhaitham’s gut. Not even one bit, in fact, it makes it worse.
But it’s not jealousy, Alhaitham doesn’t get jealous because he’s above petty feelings of inadequacy. He’s merely concerned for you, worried for your brainpower by the end of the project because your partner seems less-than-incompetent. If you’d picked someone like Alhaitham (or better yet, just picked Alhaitham), you would’ve aced the class without even blinking an eye.
(The two of you are friends, so why didn’t you pick him? It’s literally been proven that the two of you are compatible working together since you were both executives of Sumeru’s Cultural Society, and amidst all of the activities the club has run, you’ve collaborated many times to make each event run flawlessly. So why not him? Why would you pick another man over him?)
“You know you could have picked me, I wouldn’t mind working on the assignment with you,” he grumbles, words soft but very clear.
Alhaitham misses the way your eyes widen in shock as apologies scramble out of your mouth. “I’m sorry! I automatically assumed that you wanted to work on it by yourself. Next time I’ll ask you.”
The lecture begins before he could say anything in return and like a robot, he sets his thoughts aside and begins listening, notes document up and cursor blinking at the ready.
A mundane two hours pass by, one powerpoint slide after powerpoint slide before the lecture is finally over, much to your pleasure. Alhaitham notices the way you eagerly jump out of your seat to stretch, grabbing your bag. On the other hand, your grey-haired accomplice takes his time in packing up, forcing you to wait for him.
“Would you like to get some coffee before the meeting?” You ask.
“Sure, we can find a seat there and join it together,” he adds and you beam at him, expression bright and so enchanting that it makes him forget about all the perplexities he felt before the lecture.
The two of you make your way to one of the many campus cafés where you practically wrestled Alhaitham to stop him from paying for both your orders (losing in the end) before sitting at a booth, your laptop set up with a pair of Alhaitham’s earphones shared between you. The meeting begins to fill up with almost all committee members, even Kaveh, who resides in his room of his and Alhaitham’s shared flat. Upon noticing him, you go to text him, with the grey-haired peeking over your shoulder from time to time to see your conversation- not that he cares that much.
(Perhaps if Kaveh glanced up from his phone, then he’d see how close Alhaitham had gotten with you, breaching the distance that he prefers to keep around others. He’d also notice the headphone sharing despite how he generally tends to keep them out of anyone else’s hands.)
You’re tasked with the role of taking notes for the meeting since Alhaitham, in your opinion, is not at all a reliable scribe. His notes tend to just include vital information and never what everyone else needs to know, yet each time you scold him for it, his unbothered expression never falters, waving your complaints off with a shrug.
“Hey, Kaveh and I are going to go for lunch tomorrow after our classes. Care to join?” You ask, smiling at him hopefully as your messages with Kaveh sit open on your screen. Alhaitham doesn’t think twice before agreeing.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
“It looks like it’s about to rain,” you murmur, pulling out a chair as Alhaitham and Kaveh take their seats opposite you.
“So it does,” Alhaitham notes, not caring to look too long out the window before returning his gaze to you. “You have an umbrella, right?”
“I, uh, didn’t think I needed one today.”
“Do you not check the weather before you leave?”
“Not everyone’s like you, Alhaitham.” Kaveh teases. “It’s no problem, Y/n, if it rains I can walk you back to your dorm.”
“Only if you are okay with it,” you insist, “I have no problem walking home in the rain. I love the rain.”
Alhaitham intervenes with a raise of his hand. “Nonsense, you’ll catch a cold. We’ll walk you home.”
A soft but genuine ‘thank you’ slips from your lips, neither of you wiser to the way Kaveh eyes his roommate suspiciously, not missing the use of ‘we’ in his sentence and the implications the collective pronoun has. For it meant that Alhaitham is willing to take precious time out of his day to perform an act for someone that he is not indebted to do. Not that Alhaitham is inherently selfish, per se, but he is a man of routine. He wakes up every morning and takes five minutes to scribble on his stupid whiteboard in the kitchen what he has to do for the day and strictly abides by it, not even straying two minutes off schedule.
Willingly volunteering his minutes? Kaveh finds that suspicious.
“So, how’s your architecture assignment, Kaveh?” You ask, breaking the blond from his daze whilst Alhaitham pours glasses of water for the table, starting with your cup.
“A nightmare,” he sighs, sinking into his chair. “I still have so much to do, you know my professor didn’t like my blueprint? How ridiculous! I hope that man steps in a puddle and wets his sock.”
The grey-haired pipes up with a remark. “I can’t wait for it to be done, our living room is a mess right now.”
“Hey, I am the one that cleans that living room, thank you very much. Your bookshelf is still a mess even though I’ve asked you to clean it five times.”
“If it bothers you so much then why don’t you do it yourself?”
“I’m the only one who-”
“-I’m going to go to the bathroom,” you murmur, cutting the conversation before shuffling out of your chair, seemingly eager to do so.
Kaveh turns to the grey-haired again, “and you just scared away Y/n.”
“Sorry no one wants to hear about your architecture project.”
“Y/n literally asked, asshole.”
A rebuttal sits on the tip of Alhaitham’s tongue- as it always does when it comes to bickering with his roommate, but it dies out when an intruder comes to the table. “Excuse me, I hate to interrupt,” he begins, “but the person who just got up, is that your friend?”
“Yeah, why do you ask?”
“Oh, I just wanted to drop this off, mind passing it over for me?” The piece of paper he was holding lands in Kaveh’s hand. “Thanks, bro.” Is all he says before strolling away, out of sight but definitely not out of mind.
The blond does not hesitate to open it up, chuckling in amusement when reading the content. “’Hey you’re cute, here’s my number’ it says. What a bitch! You didn’t like his vibes either, right, Alhaitham?”
“Hold on, what does the note say?”
Grabbing (snatching) it from Kaveh, the grey-haired has half a mind to rip the note apart, a certain sense of distaste washing over him that intensifies the long he stares at the guy’s handwriting. His eye is twitching. Why is his eye twitching?
“Hey!” He hears Kaveh call. “Don’t scrunch it, that’s Y/n’s-“
Alhaitham stuffs the ball of paper into his bag where he’ll recycle it later even though something irrational within him tells him to burn it. “Y/n won’t miss it. You said it yourself, he’s a bitch.”
“Sure, but why are you doing-“
“Hey!” You interrupt, sliding back into your chair with a grin on your face. “So, what did I miss?”
“Nothing,” the grey-haired murmurs, assuming his crossed-arm position. Kaveh side eyes his roommate before agreeing with a hum. “Let’s order something now. We want to beat the rain, right?”
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
This meeting for the Sumeru Society might have been one of the most important ones of the year thus far, with almost every committee member expected to attend. After all, the annual ball was a big event that always had the largest turnout, and the amount of planning that goes into it to ensure its success is almost triple that of its other events.
So why weren’t you here?
“Why did you leave the meeting early on Friday?” Alhaitham asks as soon as he sees you.
You pause briefly, eyes widening and eyebrows raising. It must have been the way that Alhaitham’s voice raised a pitch towards the end of the question, demonstrating a nervous break in character that was not at all typical. Cool and collected would be the defining words to describe Alhaitham, as well as someone who does not care for the menial activities of others, so what is he doing asking you? And why does he care so much?
“I, uh, had dinner with someone,” you confess, continuing to grab your books and laptop, missing the way his features contort into something un-cool, and very un-Alhaitham.
“Whom?”
You murmur the name of some other guy, who he vaguely recalls to be your project partner.
“What?” Alhaitham snaps.
“I didn’t think missing out on some of the meeting would be a big deal! I got another committee member to explain what I missed,” you justified. “Besides, there’s no big events going on right now, so I thought-”
“-That you could abandon your tasks and go have fun with someone else?”
Alhaitham’s not really sure why he said that. He’s not angry that you skipped a meeting; there are larger things in the world to worry about, he’s angry because you spent time with another guy that wasn’t him.Why not go to dinner with him instead? He spends it every night with Kaveh, and you are far more favourable than Kaveh.
“Is it really something to get mad over? I already told you, I got the meeting notes and everything-”
“-You’re an executive of the society, Y/n, more is expected from you.”
“Seriously?” you ask, “how come you didn’t bat an eye when the vice president wasn’t there the other day?”
“Because she was sick.”
“Okay, fine! what about the subcommittee? they’re not always there either!”
“They’re subcom. Whether they miss a meeting or not is not crucial.”
“So, it’s just my business that you care about?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed, disbelief clouding over your expression like a mask.
Again, Alhaitham doesn’t know where these punches are coming from and why he’s throwing them against you so viciously, but his heart is tightening defensively with a burning emotion that he’s been feeling more and more recently, and his first instinct is to lash out, to protect himself from it.
Perhaps it’s because foreign things that he can’t understand terrify him and you, all you ever do is make him feel things that he’s never felt before and he can’t understand why.
“You’re not that special.”
A flash of hurt gleams in your eyes and Alhaitham knows now that he’s royally fucked up. “You’re an ass,” you grumble, about to walk away when he intercepts.
“Listen to me!”
“Fuck off!”
“Y/n-”
You’re gone before he can get another word out, retreating figure stomping away whilst his chest weaves into knots; something that no amount of deep breathing can calm. It doesn’t help that the minute he returns home, Kaveh is onto him like some sort of parasite, curious over the tense air surrounding his normally-composed roommate.
“Hey, welcome home- whoa, what’s gotten into you?” The blond asks.
“None of your business,” Alhaitham grumbles through gritted teeth, taking his shoes off and throwing them aside haphazardly. Kaveh doesn’t miss the way Alhaitham’s jaw is clenched, or the strain in his hand when he brings up a hand to run through his hair, or the very subtle and minute twitch in his cheek.
The blond ignores all signs that he wants to be left alone, and instead, follows the grey-haired to his room after he swung the door open.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on, let’s talk about this-”
“Talk about what?” Alhaitham growls.
“Who pissed in your black coffee today?”
“No one. Now get lost.”
“Aw, come on, you know what they say. Getting things off your chest is always beneficial.”
“There’s nothing on my chest, go away.”
“You sure? no stress, no deadlines, no love interest making you tear your hair out-”
“-No, no, none of those!”
“Then what?”
Alhaitham steadies himself by resting his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together as he exhales loudly. “I got pissed and took it out on Y/n, who’s mad at me now.”
“Huh? Why so annoyed?”
“Because Y/n went to dinner with another man.”
It’s silent for a while. The sassy quip that he expects from Kaveh does not happen. Instead, the blond merely smiles, a satisfied, knowing grin that slightly irks him. “You know, I’ve been waiting for the day you realise you have feelings for Y/n.”
“What? Where did you get that conclusion from?” Alhaitham sits up straighter. There are a lot of things he knows, and he knows for sure that he does not like you in any way beyond platonic. He doesn’t have any time to spare for love. There are scholarships he still needs to apply for, internships to be interviewed for, research projects to submit- nowhere amongst the minute hand of the clock is there space for love.
“Oh come on,” Kaveh sits down on the bed beside his roommate, leaning back on his hands. “You’re not as smooth as you hope to be sometimes.”
“I’m serious, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Y’know the sooner you accept you have feelings for Y/n, the easier life will be.”
“Life is already easy and there is no sooner because I don’t like Y/n like that. Now get lost. I have stuff I need to finish.”
Kaveh shrugs, standing up with a soft ‘suit yourself’, taking seven steps before he’s out of the room. Alhaitham lets out a sigh that has lodged itself in his throat for too long, and the feeling of reprieve he gets is short-lived before he’s flooded with a certain tightness again. Maybe he did have a weight on his chest after all, not that he’d ever admit it to himself or Kaveh.
He gets up from his made bed with a grunt and decides to push aside all distractions. Time is unforgiving, and if doesn’t finish his assignment by this Friday then he’ll be a little less than pleased.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Alhaitham feels like he can’t breathe.
You’re sitting alone at a library desk, all focused and concentrated on your laptop screen with your headphones on, blocking out any outside voice as you type away. He wonders if he should say hi, maybe try apologising for the way he acted last Monday- who is this guy that’s approaching you and why does he look so familiar?
And why are you smiling so happily?
You beckon to the seat beside you and the guy readily complies, taking the chair beside you like he belonged there, like there weren’t other candidates that should be there instead (he’s not talking about himself. definitely not).
He hands you one of two coffee cups he’s holding. What kind of right does this guy have to give you a coffee? Does he even know your order?
He feels like a bit of creep keenly watching you interact with someone else from a balcony of the library, but the book and laptop in front of him lies forgotten, and in a rare moment of weakness, Alhaitham can’t find it in himself to return to his tasks, pursuit of knowledge momentarily forgotten. He can’t push aside the bile that threatens to rise, he can’t loosen his grip on the couch’s armrest, and he can’t blink for a second in fear of losing you from his sight.
(You’re laughing. Why are you laughing? How can you look so pretty laughing and why doesn’t he ever get to make you laugh like this?)
Alhaitham is losing his damn mind. So much so that the first thing he does when he sees you again is corner you.
“You shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.”
You’re backed against the brick walls of the time-worn building that your shared lecture always takes place in, and Alhaitham, spotting you like a hawk, put you in this precarious position as soon as the two hours were over.
He can’t breathe. It’s been almost three weeks since you last spoke to him and you’re staring up at him like you’ve done nothing wrong, blinking once and twice at his uncharacteristic display of subtle aggression.
“Who?” you mutter, shaking your head to try and grasp reality once again. you hug your laptop closer to your body. “What’s this about?”
“I said you shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.”
“What guy?”
“Your project partner.”
“Really?” you mutter in disbelief.
He nods, teal eyes shining at you firmly. “Really. The project’s over, you don’t need to talk to him anymore.”
“I don’t recall ever giving you the right to dictate who gets to be in my life or not, just like how you can’t tell me what to do with my time.”
“I’m looking out for you, so stop trying to make me sound tyrannical.”
Your mouth hangs open as you furrow your eyebrows, growing more and more frustrated with each second. So much for thinking that he wanted to resolve the awkwardness between the two of you. “I’m not even going to argue with you,” you murmur a quick ‘jerk’ under your breath before brushing past him.
Alhaitham, however, is not willing to let you go as easily as you wish, quick to chase after you. Not that you go far anyways, turning around to face him again in the spaciousness of the vacant hallway. “Why do you care?” You ask, exasperated. “You’re Alhaitham, you don’t let trivial things like who I hangout with bother you, you’re cool and collected and rational, and I just don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”
He doesn’t understand either, not the erratic beating of his heart, the stubbornness of his mind, nor this undisputable urge to keep you all to himself. Is it normal to want to hide someone for selfish reasons?
Trailing off, Alhaitham is slightly humiliated that for the first time in his life, someone has witnessed him coming short of an answer. No logical conclusion, no explanation, not even a satisfying quip, just plain, suffocating silence.
“Right. When you do have an answer, let me know.” You walk away.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Your last rebuttal still weighs heavily on Alhaitham’s mind, even two days later as he and Kaveh are seated for a lecture in a shared course. His thoughts are scrambled like never before, the messiness of it all making him feel uneasy because for once, he doesn’t have an appropriate answer to a question.
Why was he acting like a temperamental teenager? What you did with your life was up to you, and indeed he has no right trying to change that. More importantly, why was it so hard to apologise for the stuff he said-
“So, how’s everything between you and Y/n?”
Kaveh turns to him with widened eyes whilst Alhaitham’s poker face doesn’t move an inch, deceivingly apathetic.
“Good, we’ve been hanging out a lot more recently,” the other guy says, who Alhaitham quickly recognises to be your project partner and distaste rises in his stomach like bile.
“Aye, good for you, man! So when are you going to ask Y/n out?”
“No way, bro, not yet. I’m such a wimp, but I hope I grow the balls to ask soon because I really like-”
“-looks like you got some competition!” The blond nudges Alhaitham, and if it were anyone else, they would not have glanced twice at the grey-haired who seemed unmoving and uninterested. However, Kaveh is not anyone else because he noticed the darkened look in Alhaitham’s eyes instantly, anger seeping into his composed gaze as his nose scrunches in disgust.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
“So, you and Alhaitham still aren’t talking?” Kaveh asks, leaning on the table of the restaurant with curious ears, hoping that he can grab some answers out of you as to why there was a stalemate between you and his roommate.
“Nope,” you sigh.
“Why not?”
“I’m just-” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “I’m just waiting on an apology from him.”
“An apology? Why? What did he say?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“You know how he is. Always insufferably secretive, so no, I don’t know anything that happened.”
“Alhaitham just said some hurtful things to me, and he was being weird when I told him I was going to dinner with a friend of mine. Just kept being in my business.”
“Really?” The architecture student quirks a brow, confusion plastered on his face. “That’s not like Alhaitham at all.”
“I know, right? He kept trying to be like ‘don’t hang out with him’ and ridiculed me for not playing my part as an executive of the Sumeru society,” you complained, “like sorry I have other things I want to do.”
Kaveh nods in understanding as the conversation briefly stops when the waiter comes to drop off utensils at your table. As soon as they were gone, however, you begin again.
“And even though he was all up in my business, trying to tell me what not to do, he then said that I wasn’t special, which is so confusing because like-”
“-hold on. Alhaitham said that you weren’t special?” You nod at his parroted claim. “To him?”
“Yeah. Stung like shit when he said that, especially since I thought we were friends but guess not,” you murmur sadly, fiddling with the fork.
Later that night, almost immediately after meeting you over dinner, Kaveh barges into his roommate’s room, not even changing out of his outside clothes. The sudden intrusion shocks Alhaitham who was busy typing on a document, textbook splayed open beneath him but momentarily forgotten as the blond takes a seat on the bed.
“What the- not even a hello?” The grey-haired asks, confused by this uncharacteristic silence of Kaveh’s. It’s pretty normal for the blond to barge into his room without notice, but it was not normal for him to be so quiet, practically brooding on the mattress. “Whatever. Where have you been? Have you eaten yet, because I made-”
“When will you just confess to Y/n?”
The mention of your name causes a spike in Alhaitham’s heartbeat and he swivels around instantly, attention fully directed towards his roommate. “Where is this coming from?”
“Y/n told me everything that happened between you two by the way-”
“-what, when?”
“Tonight, we just met for dinner.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“What would you have done if you knew? Showed up and made things worse?” He doesn’t say anything in retaliation, merely shutting his mouth and furrowing his eyebrows. “Why did you say that Y/n wasn’t special to you?”
“I didn’t,” Alhaitham sighs, very loud and very perplexed. “I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did.”
“Don’t you miss Y/n? You two used to hangout so often.”
“I do, of course I do!” He exclaims, burrowing his face in his hands.
“So why aren’t you apologising?”
“Because whenever I’m around Y/n, I’m not who I normally am,” he mutters, “especially everything whenever that project partner is around-”
“Jealous, much?”
“I’m not jealous.”
“Oh come on, you’re ridiculous. Stop pushing away your feelings and just be honest with yourself, Alhaitham! Y/n is not just a friend to you and you know it.”
“But, we are just friends-”
“So you mean to tell me that if I hung out with someone else- like if I hung out with Cyno, you would be pissed?”
“What? No, of course not.”
“Then why is it different with Y/n?” Once again, Alhaitham doesn’t have an answer to the question, sitting as still as a statue hunched over his desk. “Fine, I’ll spell it out to you. You like Y/n, more than just a friend!”
The silence leftover from Kaveh’s outburst is tense and full as the grey-haired lets the words sink in.
“I’ll let you think about it,” the blond murmurs, voice softening dramatically as he stalks out of the room. Before he closes the door, however, he leaves a few final words. “Just- be honest with yourself, Alhaitham, and I wouldn’t delay trying to talk to Y/n.”
A sharp click rings through the room.
Alhaitham is no stranger to being alone, for who needs the company of others when you are happiest by yourself? Yet, in the weeks that you have not been speaking to him, a cardinal urge as been growing each and each day, wanting him to do something so atypical of him: to reach out and make the first move. Every passing day doesn’t lessen the thoughts that plague his mind, rather, they make him more and more impatient, because what if you get swept away by your project partner?
(What if he’ll be too late? What if you won’t know of these powerful emotions that are steering through the storm in his heart? What if you won’t know just how badly he was been wanting you- wanting to see you, wanting to apologise, wanting to see you beam at him like you always would.
What if you won’t know that he adores you, especially now that he’s figured it out?).
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
A rain droplet falls and lands on your nose, another lands on your forehead, then another lands on your lip then more and more keep falling from the cloudy sky, falling through the leaves and landing on the bench you were currently sitting on. Goodness, you should have checked the weather before leaving your dorm. Why was it now out of all times that it had to rain, what would Alhaitham think after he finally decided to reach out to talk?
Taking your phone out to message the grey-haired about relocating, an umbrella is suddenly held over you, stopping the gentle drizzle from falling onto you. Looking up, you’re greeted by a familiar face that you have been missing too much recently.
“Hello, you,” you breathe, voice gentle and quiet and Alhaitham feels like he can finally breathe after so long, the scent of rain washing away all perplexion.
He nods at you in greeting before offering you the bouquet of flowers he was holding. A gorgeous arrangement of pink of white stare prettily at you and a man even more gorgeous expects you to accept it.
“For me?” You ask.
“For you.”
“Thank you, they’re so beautiful,” you take his gift with gentle hands, holding it close to your chest.
“I want to apologise,” he firmly states, getting straight to the point; very Alhaitham of him. “For treating you the way I have been recently.”
You beam at him, so bright and so gorgeous that it renders him speechless, a feat pretty difficult when it comes to someone like Alhaitham who has a whole dictionary of words, in multiple languages too. Somehow, they all flock out of his mind the second you smile at him.
“I accept your apology, thank you for reaching out, must have been hard for someone like you, huh?” You tease, standing up from the bench.
“Well, I had do for someone as special as you.” The grey-haired’s voice is deceivingly confident and assured, but you know better, especially when he looks away to hide his expression with his neatly styled bangs.
“No need for the flattery, you know, I’ve already forgiven you.” There’s a moment of silence that occupies the air, caused by Alhaitham’s hesitation as he fishes his brain for the courage to ask you out. You speak before he can get a word out, however. “I got asked out the other day.”
“By your groupmate?”
“He has a name, you know, but, yeah. I rejected him, though,” you laugh awkwardly, almost like you were trying to cope with it by playing it off. “Did you know that he would do that?”
“Yes. I did.”
“Is that why you were so adamant on me not hanging out with him?”
“I guess you could say that. We can talk more about it another time,” he tells you, voice gentle and caring to mask the subtle hit of jealousy he feels in his chest, scolding himself for letting someone else confess to you before him. However, it’s a minute sensation in comparison to the triumph Alhaitham feels knowing that you rejected the other party.
“We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”
“We do, but I want to ask you something first.”
You nod, hugging the bouquet closer to your chest, anticipation heavy in the air as you spur him to continue.
“If I asked you out, would you reject me too?”
A mere second passes by where you don’t respond, yet the second stretches out to what feels like eternity as Alhaitham’s stomach churns. Patience is something he doesn’t lack, but how can he be patient when his heart wants you so bad?
Then, you take his hand, and the heavens sing at the feeling of your hand in his. “I wouldn’t, but are you asking me out?”
“Are you free right now?”
“I am. Why?”
“Let’s go out then. On a date.”
“I'd love to.” You rise up to place a lingering kiss on his cheek, one that has his heart racing with joy rather than frustration.
The smile you earn is gentle, shy, but says more than Alhaitham's words ever can.
isekai into genshin but the isekai’d person is a communist who gets into philosophical debates with zhongli and screams at him for creating the root of all evil: capitalism. and then they make out.
does a confession count when it comes from someone delirious with fever?
alhaitham x reader
you’re clearly sick with fever, you know it, alhaitham knows it, and even your professor to whom you’ve never said a single word knows it. so why are you, wearing a black mask, coughing up a lung, and a second away from sleep, in lecture?
alhaitham has his own hypotheses to that particular question, but the fact remains is that there’s still about ten more minutes of lecture and he doesn’t know if you’re going to make it. not because of death—at least, he certainly hopes not—but because he meant it when he said you’re a whisp away from dreamland. one blink might send you head first into a fever dream, and you honestly think you might be in one when alhaitham silently packs his bag and silently moves through the lecture hall to sit next to you.
“what are you doing?” you whisper.
“taking you home.”
you cough before responding, and alhaitham cringes at the sound.
“home?”
“back to the dorm,” he clarifies.
you and alhaitham both live in the same dorm, though you only realized it when he came knocking on your door, with only the message of “you’re being too loud, i’m trying to study, please quiet down” when you opened it. your roommate was understandably annoyed by his obtrusiveness, and you were too, to an extent. until you told your roommate the very next day you thought he was cute and recognized him from lecture.
a lost cause, your roommate called you.
a lost cause was right.
“why?” you ask again through another cough.
alhaitham shrugs. “consider it me doing something nice.”
“but you’re not nice?”
alhaitham raises an eyebrow. your face is pale and laced with confusion, and if the statement didn’t come out as a sincere question, alhaitham would be much more offended. presently, he’s a little miffed—of course he’s nice, just when he wants to be, which may or may not be less than the average person—and has just realized something very interesting.
you don’t have much of a filter when sick with fever.
you’re also not very… present. he had to nudge you when the lecture ended and the professor started packing up. he had to subsequently coax you to pack up, because you told him you were so tired you could fall asleep right there and then.
“you can’t do that.”
“but why?”
“it’s too warm in here and lecture chairs are uncomfortable, and another class is coming in.”
“i don’t care,” you told him, a pout gracing your features.
“well, i do,” alhaitham says, standing. he looks down at you. “now, are you going to let me walk you back or are you doing to stay?”
“stay.”
so you have a streak of stubbornness when you’re sick, too. alhaitham rolls his eyes and starts packing your stuff himself, tossing in your laptop (which hasn’t been touched the entire lecture) and notebook (which also has remained unopened) and even takes your phone, plopping it in before zippering the bag shut, tossing it over his shoulder, and heading towards the exit.
it takes you a second in your hazed state to realize what happened before you pull yourself up and out of your seat and into the hallway. alhaitham’s nowhere to be found and you’re about to unleash a string of curses on his good name before you hear footsteps behind you.
“ready to go?”
you glare at him. “isn’t it a crime to mess with someone who’s sick?”
“a crime? no. morally wrong? maybe.” alhaitham shrugs, a slight smile tugging on his lips. “but that’s something for the philosophers to decide.”
you huff as you walk along side him, out of the lecture hall and onto the main campus. it’s a cold winter afternoon and you pull your sweatshirt around you tighter. maybe you wouldn’t have gotten sick if you didn’t insist on not wearing a winter coat when the temperature is near freezing. but then again, if you hadn’t gotten sick, then this serendipitous exchange might not have occurred.
as if reading your thoughts, alhaitham asks, “did your forget your jacket?”
“i didn’t wear one.”
“why not?”
“i am immune to the cold.”
“i assume that’s why your sick.”
“i’m not sick,” you tell him. a following series of coughs proves you wrong and has alhaitham raising his eyebrows. “okay, maybe i’m a little sick.”
“maybe just a little,” alhaitham agrees with you.
you spend the remainder of the short walk in silence, and it’s only when alhaitham leaves your side to open the door to your dorm that you realize you’re back. you think that, if this were any other time, you’d be thrilled and blushing that your crush walked you back to your dorm. he even insisted upon it. a part of you is, but it’s unfortunate you can’t outwardly show it—that is, you don’t really have the energy to.
you also can’t believe this is actually happening and real. your mind is currently afloat in a realm of feverish haze, a sign that you need a nap, but before you can unlock your dorm door, alhaitham pauses ourside of it.
he clears his throat and looks down at you staring up at him, like he’s a comet in the sky. “why did you come to lecture today? you’re clearly not feeling well.”
you stare at him through a sick-filled haze, like you might currently be lost in a fever dream you can’t quite wake up from. like you don’t know if it’s him asking or a fragment of your feverish imagination playing a trick on you.
“because i wanted to see you.”
the words, said so innocently, echo in alhaitham’s ears. you look as if you’ve either forgotten what you just said or unsure if you said anything at all. in the back of his mind, alhaitham wonders if him prying you for your feelings on him would also be a moral debate for the philosophers, but decides to press a little harder, dig a little deeper.
“why did you want to see me?”
“because…” you hesitate, tilt your head, consider the question. “because i like you?”
like the statement from earlier, it comes out as a question. as if it’s something obvious that you’re having a hard time believing alhaitham doesn’t know. as if it’s a simple truth, like the sky is blue, so simple it shouldn’t need explanation.
if you weren’t so sick right now, you might have blushed and looked down at your shoes before blinking up at him through your eyelashes and saying something coy. but like alhaitham realized earlier, you have little to no filter right now.
“i’m going to take a nap,” you tell him, before unlocking your door, waving goodbye, and shutting it firmly in his face.
alhaitham blinks, looks around for a second, then focused on your closed dorm door. he thought you might have liked him—especially when you started glancing at him more during lecture, and even asked to be his partner for a homework assignment. but could he really trust a confession from you in your addled state?
alhaitham shrugs and turns away from the door and walks down the hallway to his own room. when he enters, his roommate looks at him inquisitively, because alhaitham’s blushing, and alhaitham never blushes like this, but he brushes him off. alhaitham decides he’ll ask you again for confirmation when you’ve recovered, just to make sure.
but now he’s starting to feel sick, and wonders if he also might have a fever—from whatever sickness you have or a newfound lovesickness, he can only hypothesize. (it’s probably the latter.)
premise. alhaitham learns to stop falling asleep in places that isn't his bed the hard way. (alternatively, in which the librarian doesn't follow the script to wake sleeping beauty.)
Kaveh finds Alhaitham furiously scrubbing his face in the bathroom.
At first, he's absolutely ecstatic. For all that Alhaitham refuses to practice skincare, he's never gotten a zit on his face. An earth-shattering revelation to Kaveh, who maintains a strict nightly skincare routine—he's never gone to sleep without a moisturizing facemask. It's not the most infuriating thing about his roommate, but it annoys him that a guy who only washes his face in the morning has clearer skin than he does.
Is this it? Is Alhaitham receiving retribution at last? Is he finally suffering the consequences of his carelessness?!
But when Kaveh cranes his neck to get a better look at Alhaitham's face, he doesn't see any of the sort.
“Dude...” Kaveh can't even laugh due to sheer incredulity, staring at Alhaitham with a pitying look. Alhaitham thinks it would be less irritating if he just laughed in his face. “Did a third-grader pick on you?”
Alhaitham grits his teeth, wiping the remnants of ink on his face. He's mostly gotten rid of the sparkly anime eyes you drew over his eyelids, but it still looks like a fading black eye. The blush lines on his cheeks are a work in progress, but they'll disappear with some effort.
“They have the maturity of one, at least.”
Alhaitham has met his fair share of librarians—there's the stern, no-nonsense kind he's gotten forehead flicks from every time he's caught dozing off on his thesis paper; the introverted bookish type who stutters as they nervously but firmly tell him off for hogging all the books a certain class needs for a report; the motherly sort who smuggles him coffee in his all-nighters when he looks like death itself...
And then there's you.
Cheekier than his brat of a roommate, you somehow manage to annoy him like nobody else can. He'd rather have you scold him for treating the library as a second bedroom than clip ribbons to his hair whenever you catch him sleeping. Hell, he'd take a skull-shattering forehead flick over doodles on his face any day. But even if he preaches his troubles to anyone willing to listen, they're never sympathetic.
Because for some reason, you're never like this to anyone else.
If anyone at campus were asked to describe you, they'll say you're a model student. Scholarly, courteous, standing tall with dignified grace; you're the perfect picture of a goody-two-shoes. Nothing like the childish brat who terrorizes his nap schedule on a daily basis.
People who have a vendetta against him is nothing new. What he doesn't understand, however, is what he did to be the object of your wrath.
“Maybe [Name] likes you. Kind of like how boys bully the girl they like,” is the ridiculous answer Kaveh gives him, dropping those words like they weigh nothing with a nonchalant shrug. Alhaitham would think it more likely for the reverse to be true; your insistence to dedicate your time into ruining his day is nothing short of admiration—surely a testament to just how much you hate him.
...Okay, so maybe Alhaitham could guess a few things for why. There's been a handful of times (read: it happens at least thrice a week) he kept you stationed at the library longer than you had to be because he fell asleep until closing hours, and he has a tendency to forget returning the materials he borrows for his thesis to the library...
So. Perhaps this was a consequence of his actions after all.
He argues that there are far more mature methods to resolve this issue, though.
Alhaitham stares at the crudely drawn portrait scrawled on his arm, deeply unimpressed. Although he's not one to boast about his looks, he's rather sure he isn't as much of an eyesore as you drew him to be, his nose an exaggerated point (a literal triangle) and his lips wide open as he drools, dangerously close to the rectangles he guesses are supposed to be books. Don't sleep on the reference books!! You'll get drool all over them >:(, reads the scribbled letters beside the portrait, an angry face scrawled haphazardly next to them.
(Still, by the corner of his eye, he spots a cup of his usual order of coffee, a neon pink sticky note pasted on the lid: Wake up and finish your report quickly, I have a show to catch at 8 :>
It would be easier to hate you if being bratty is all there is to your personality, really.)
You scribble all over your notes.
It's a fact Alhaitham has known about you since long ago. Everything else about you is neat and orderly, but every page of your notebook has some sort of doodle on the corners. They range from meticulous side-profiles of whoever sits beside you that day to meaningless hearts and smiley faces akin to what a five-year-old child might make.
If you've chosen to be more artistic for the doodles you draw all over him, perhaps Alhaitham might not mind as much. It's unfortunate you much rather prefer drawing exaggerated tear streaks on his face.
“I'm quite certain this is a form of harassment,” Alhaitham grumbles, rubbing his face with makeup remover. As pointless as it is to express his woes to the cause of said woes, he finds himself seated before the reception desk to keep you company anyway. “I don't understand why you're still doing this.”
“It's a punishment for falling asleep and keeping me holed up in here to guard the library until it closes,” you drone, fixing the library cards. “And yet you still refuse to stop. Is it really so hard to go to the dormitory instead?”
Alhaitham shrugs. A sigh inevitably escapes your lips.
Eventually, you run out of stupid things to draw on his skin whenever you catch him sleeping.
You start to write your shopping list on his arm instead.
“Why on earth would you need three cartons of eggs?” Alhaitham leans against the desk you're stationed at, reading the bulletpoints on his skin.
Eventually, Alhaitham gets used to scrubbing off your vandalism too. It's his personal brand of skincare.
“They're on sale today,” you reply, signing the papers requesting new stocks of books. “And I was planning on baking, so it's better I have plenty of ingredients for trial and error.”
“Sounds heavy,” he hums, eyes scanning the rest of your list. “Want me to come with?”
At that, your pen stops moving. “...Why?”
“I need to buy cereal.”
(No he doesn't. Kaveh went on a grocery run yesterday.)
“Sure, I guess...?” It's an unexpected development, but you wouldn't turn away an extra pair of hands. “Should we get going, then?”
“Yeah.”
You raise an eyebrow. “...But you didn't borrow a book today yet. Aren't you getting anything first?”
Alhaitham looks around. “The book I wanted isn't here, so I suppose I still have to wait a few days for it.”
“What is it?” You click your pen, reaching for your notepad. (You already have one of those, Alhaitham seriously sees no point in you writing down your grocery list on his arm.) “I'll tell you when it gets returned.”
“...No, it's fine. Let's go, the eggs you wanted might be all gone if we take our time getting there.”
You jolt up in alarm, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “You're right, we should hurry!”
For all it's worth, you're pretty gullible.
“You're still keeping that up?”
Alhaitham looks up from his laptop, fingers halting in their movement. “What do you mean?”
Kaveh scrunches his nose, pointing at the scribbles on his palm. “Your weird mating ritual. Can't you two communicate like normal people?”
Alhaitham glances at the mess you've made of his arm, full of little messages and doodles you wrote back and forth to each other during Biology period. Alhaitham had been, perhaps for the first time, not feeling drowsy. Regardless, you've taken to treating his skin as paper (“Save the trees,” you told him once, ignoring the disbelieving expression on his face), and Alhaitham has already accepted that you won't stop doing it as long as you still find it amusing.
“We do talk. Normally.”
“And if you do, why are you still doing... that.”
Alhaitham doesn't have anything to say to that. He did think it was inconvenient to wash all the messages off, and there are far more practical modes of communication.
But for some reason, he can't find it himself to say that he outright dislikes it.
And maybe he traces the shapes you draw on his skin, in the private confines of his room where no one can see him. Maybe he admires the smooth strokes of your penmanship, the adorable curls of your letters, the bubbly font that always makes him chuckle because it's just so like you.
There are hearts sometimes, or even flowers when you feel like drawing something more detailed. The ugly sketches of him sleeping are somewhat annoying, but he still finds himself endeared. Though some things are appallingly inaccurate—you've done his nose a horrible injustice more than once—he notices the correct placement of beauty marks on his face, the sharp edges of his eyes, the meticulous dimple that faintly appears when he smiles.
A thrill runs through him when he thinks of you paying attention to him, more than you've ever given anyone else.
And, well. Alhaitham's certain he's been doing plenty of that for you.
“Don't you think you're being unfair?”
You pause in your typing, averting your eyes from the computer monitor to glance at Alhaitham. “Unfair in what, exactly?”
He mindlessly spins a pen with his fingers, staring at the blank canvas that was your arm compared to the sketchbook you've made out of his. “You're the only one who writes on me.”
“What, you want to write your shopping list on me for a change?” you arch up an eyebrow, unperturbed. “I thought you said it was impractical.”
“I never said I wanted to write my shopping list.”
“What else would you write, then?”
Alhaitham reaches for your arm. “Give me your hand.”
You blink, not quite unwilling yet confused all the same. You offer your hand and he uncaps his pen, scribbling on your palm. You've never been on the receiving end of this little game, so you're not sure what to expect from him.
“There.” Satisfied, he lets go and stands up. “I'm going home for the day. Good luck with the rest of your shift.”
“See you tomorrow, I guess...?” you wave at him in farewell, but he's quick to spring on his feet and dart out the door. “What's his deal...”
You turn over your hand, seeing a string of numbers written in neat font.
“Oh.”
Alhaitham feels silly for anticipating a text like some lovestruck teenage girl who exchanged numbers with her crush.
The blinking cursor on his blank essay document almost looks mocking, and as time passes by, the only word he's managed to type out is “The.” Even so, his attention is completely locked on his phone, devoid of any notifications.
If it weren't for Kaveh being nosy the other day, he wouldn't have gotten the idea of giving you his number. He did think something had to change, but he didn't know how to get there. But now that he's gotten this far, he can expect a little bit, right?
At last, his phone chimes its long awaited notification. Alhaitham is quick to ditch his laptop and shuts it closed, reaching for his phone where it sits on his desk. He swears he's never typed his password so fast before in his life.
Unfortunately, the text he's been anticipating for a good portion of the day is nothing but a disappointment.
various!genshin impact characters who’re searching for a perfect gift for you [ @w4yf1nder ]
CHAR: albedo, childe, lyney
PAIRING(S): gn!reader x various!genshin men (separate)
TROPES: fluff, established relationship
TW: none
A/N: it might not be the most original, but I hope you enjoy <33
ALBEDO
our dearest alchemist isn’t one for understanding the joy of the holidays — he never fully grasped why receiving or giving a gift on one specific day meant so much someone, but to each their own was his thought process
emphasis on was, since this was going to be the first holiday the two of you would spend officially as a couple
that was when he finally understood why everyone made such a big deal out of gift-giving during the holidays; he finally felt pressure
pressure to find something perfect for you
now, albedo isn’t saying that he has never felt pressure before; but not like he does once the first few days of winter rolls around
everyone is talking and decorating for the holidays — especially for their loved ones. he had considered studying the new atmosphere that had spread throughout Teyvat which had caused almost everyone to be in what they called a ‘holiday spirit’ but he digressed
he already had an unfamiliar feeling weighing on his shoulders which he wasn’t sure how to deal with
so after an extensive amount of people watching, Albedo had came to the conclusion that he should ask you what you wanted directly to your face
however that was quickly tossed aside when on the way to ask you what you wanted for the holidays he overheard people agreeing that their present had to be kept a secret
so he changed course and went to the direction of kaeya for advice instead
did he think kaeya would be the best candidate to ask? no — which is why all research projects have more than one test subject
(i failed science this year pls don’t come for me in any inaccuracies)
when he had asked kaeya about gifts for his partner his reply was a mix of teasing and recommending a gift of extravagance:
“Think of it as something to be remembered. You want them to remember that it was you who have it to them after all, right? Either go big or go home.”
albedo isn’t the most wealthy of the captains so he chalked kaeya’s response as a result of his upbringing with the ragvindr’s but he had taken most of his advice and moved onto the next
lisa was more in-tune with her emotions than him or others he knows so he visited her next
her response was similar to kaeya’s — in the teasing matter that is — but she had gotten more in depth in what the perfect gift would be:
“Well, gifts are meant to be both given and received. So what about something matching? Like a cute little locket with a picture of each other in it! Ah, how I wish somebody would give me something like that one day.”
needless to say, albedo was quite thankful that she hadn’t spoken to him in riddles this time around and got straight to the point; there was a reason he was interviewing his peers after all
the next and final candidate on his list for advice was his assistant sucrose
sucrose gave him advice that was short and sweet and didn’t require him to think to hard about
“A bouquet should do the trick — you can’t go wrong with a nice bouquet with their favorite flowers; you know their favorite flower, right?”
after looking over his notes one last time, Albedo had concluded to gift you a leather band with Cecilia’s along with your favorite flower pressed and preserved onto it
the flower petals had practically covered all of the band which was tightened and loosened via a ribbon which you pulled in order to do so
“I hope that this gift is up to par with your standards, and I hope you know I really appreciate you being with me despite knowing all the possibilities that could happen and the nature of my work, so thank you.”
CHILDE
compared to our favorite alchemist, childe is more adept with emotions and when giving someone a gift
despite falling into the abyss and being apart of an organization that isn’t the most humane, he’s a family man with multiple siblings to look after so he’s bound to notice the little things
like your preferences — how you lean towards your favorite color over all else, how your eyes narrow in disgust when you smell something vile, how your eyes widen when you see the sight of your favorite dessert on display, etc etc
he could go on all day but that would be a waste of time given his current dilemma
see, Childe doesn’t necessarily consider his pockets to be bottomless, but they most certainly look like they are given how much he splurges when it comes to you and his family
“Childe, would you care to explain to me why you have spent 4,078,934 mora on: personal expenses?”
“Can you beat me in a fight?”
listen i need more genshin characters to be portrayed with sass not all of them can be respectful
but back on track, he knows what kinds of gifts his family members prefer — teucer likes a lot of small presents, tonia would rather have few good quality gifts rather than more low quality ones, and his mother absolutely adores heartfelt gifts
however, it seems almost like a balance when it came to you in his eyes; you liked treasured practically everything he gave you, whether it be silly rock he drew a silly face on or an expensive dinner date
he didn’t want to just gift you random trinkets! you deserved and are worth so much more than that
but still, he wanted it to be a surprise so he couldn’t just ask you himself outright
so he sends teucer over to question you
truly the smartest idea he had ever thought of the whole year where you would never suspect a thing
“Your brother sent you here to ask me that question didn’t he?”
“Uh… no?”
as much as he hates to say it, he was slightly disappointed in teucer for barely making an effort to disguise the fact that Childe was the one who sent him over but hey, he still got his answer so why should he care?
though the answer was still relatively vague, it had narrowed down his options quite a bit — still a lot since the more money he owns the more options he has but I digress
he had decided to gift you three things:
silly goofy hehe haha gift: he took inspiration from his sisters old craft book lying around somewhere and got to work on making a finger puppet created to look like him; he didn’t know where this idea came from to he completely honest
omg romance: a gift most certainly more well thought out and a lot of care given into it where he gifted you small trinkets from all over the seven nations where they all have some form of meaning of love
personal expenses are skyrocketing: rented out a whole entire restaurant just for a lovely one-on-one date with no distractions to bother you both with the menu containing some added dishes catered to your liking
“You’re someone special, and I’m not saying that just to make you feel that way — well, partially since that is what you are to me. I’m saying this because you managed to accept all sides of me, and I wish to do the same to you.”
LYNEY
I believe that lyney maybe the one who is most adept in his emotions out of the five
unfortunately, he’s terribly indecisive; like Childe he notices the minor details which only fuels his never-ending thought process on what you’d like and dislike about it gift
this wasn’t as simple as pulling a rose from behind your ear after all
the pressure also magnifies 10x since lyney’s from Fontaine given how the nation may be centered around justice, it pays attention to live and passion just — if not more — as much so the expectations for his gifts to be methodically thought out is incredibly high
it also doesn’t help that lyney is practically working overtime to keep up his: ‘perfect older brother’ facade given how much overthinking he’s been doing lately
and so his dear siblings — lynette and freminet — have took it upon themselves to help out their brother dearest by… being his stationed listeners to all of his ramblings
“You may be thinking that we already have established that they don’t like that color, however! Recently they purchased a new shirt that is that exact color they have shown distaste for but that doesn’t exactly mean they have completely changed their mind since—“
“Lyney why don’t we just, not get them things that are that color?”
“I’m getting to that. So there’s always—“
[insert Lynette groaning here]
they give good advice it’s just that lyney doesn’t necessarily fully processes them in his mind which then leads to him having mind-blowing revelations in his eyes when in reality freminet mentioned that idea an hour ago
the air in the room gets pretty awkward after that’s mentioned but is quickly defused do too lyney dashing out in search for the gift he deems perfect for you
Lyney does it so quickly in fact, that it gets its own small section in the Steambird for it which most certainly catches your eye
it’s quite funny when you confront him about it though with him feigning ignorance and throwing out claims sarcastically yet still dancing around the truth even though you both know what it was
luckily it doesn’t take that long for lyney to fess up and give you an early holiday present
“This might be one of the only times I’m not appreciative of Charlotte’s work — but I hope that my untimely and unceremoniously gift hasn’t ruined the experience this season — I am fortunate to have someone as lovely as you by my side after all.”
a/n: shout-out and a huge thank you to @2023gisecretsanta for holding this event !!
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