The Stars Are Prettier. - Scaramouche

finally my tags work and i can type a whole ass essay like i wanted to >:D

Reblog, click the picture, and prepare for battle.

not proofread dumb little drabble

-

scaramouche used to shove you around a lot

mentally, physically, he’d do anything he could to convince you to leave your rank among the harbingers, to convince you that you were better off seen as a traitor than part of them.

he’d hurt you whenever he got the chance, urging you to stay away from him or he’d do it again.

he hated the way the wind picked up your hair sometimes

how you were so fragile and weak, and how you looked ashamed every time he struck you.

the way your eyes still widened and you cowered away with every “GET AWAY FROM ME!” he could muster out of his venomous lips.

he hated the way childe let you sleep on his shoulder, and the way he’d play with your hair as he whispered praises to you

and the way that a recent mission had gone

you’d made it to mondstadt only for the knights to find you, drug you, and use whatever methods they could to pry information from you.

by the time scaramouche had arrived to you (only because he couldn’t allow a fellow harbinger to die), you were already drugged out of your mind.

he found the fact you could barely walk incredibly amusing

but oh he hated the way you just suddenly, in your foggy mind, had the idea to kiss him.

and the way you did it so tenderly

if he didn’t know better he may have thought you weren’t drugged at all, the way your kiss was so controlled, almost loving

he hated the way it didn’t taste like alcohol or odd substances, but instead sweet and heartfelt.

he hated the way… that he kissed you back, that he melted into you like salt into water.

the way that you avoided childe once you had finally arrived back at goth grand hotel, your shivering body opting to scaramouche instead, he pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you

you smelled so nice, intoxicating almost, finally laying down in the bed, next to him, allowing him to wrap himself around you so you wouldn’t be cold or feel unsafe while you were so vulnerable

vulnerable enough for him to kill you

he’d thought about it, even gone as far as to bring his knives up to your throat, it would take one slash.

yet every time, he seemed to catch sight of your lips, the way your face seemed to be disturbed and afraid even in your sleep.

“s-scara…” you’d whimper through tears, even though you weren’t awake. the 4th time you’d cried in your sleep tonight, the 4th nightmare of the night.

the way you called out his name in fear but also desperation, “master scaramouche please…” you spoke in a way that drove knives into his heart and tore it open like paper “please don’t i…. im sorry sir” he watched you shift around and plead until you eventually jolted awake, sweat dripping from your forehead and tears running down your face.

he looked at you with wide eyes. shock and something else you couldn’t quite identify filled them. you turned away quickly, apologizing profusely.

“y/n.” he spoke sternly but almost calmly “look at me when i speak to you”

you looked at him without hesitation, expecting another slap or punishment for looking away from him when you weren’t supposed to, you flinched when his hand reached out to you but never met your skin, but instead met the back of your head as he pulled you into his chest before letting go and wrapping his arms around you.

a “hug” he had seen others call it. touch. touch in an affectionate way was unfamiliar to him, only leaving him room for combat and battle, but never to understand how your skin felt or the warmth it radiated, the feeling of your heart, the feeling of you beginning to sob against him.

“master scaramouche……..what did i do wrong?” your voice seemed to break more with every word, your fear of him rising with every breath you took and tear you cried. you tried to pull away, afraid you’d get a single teardrop on his clothing and he’d make you scrub it off relentlessly, but he pulled you back in, caressing your hair.

“kunikuzushi” he spoke softly, causing you to gaze up at him with glossy eyes and skin that burned red from tears. “my name is kunikuzushi”

he looked at you again, laying his forehead on top of your forehead, doing what you did to him, placing a kiss on your lips as if they were made of the thinnest glass.

“tell me what they did to you.”

“they tied me down, and asked me questions, and hit me and gave me some… pills i think they were… it hurt kunikuzushi, it hurt so much.”

whatever softness you had seen in him mere moments ago was gone. fire reignited in his eyes and lightning touched at his soul.

“i’m just… so tired..so cold”

“rest then, suppose i should rest too”

he watched you try to lay on the ground instead of the bed, being your usual submissive and selfless personality and allowing him to have the bed, but he grabbed your wrist gently and patted the space next to him

“i will deal with our little mondstadt issue tomorrow, okay?”

you nodded your head lightly

“however your cold issue can only be solved by… becoming warm?”

you nodded again, confused this time.

“forget it. come here.”

and you found your back pressed to his chest under the covers again, warmth almost immediately consuming you

thus you gained your name

12th of the Fatui Harbingers, The Puppeteer

fall / in love

Pairing: Al-Haitham x Reader Warnings: fluff, slight angst with a happy ending Word Count: ~1.3k A/N: writer's block is hitting hard rn so here are some feelings with our fav grumpy grand scribe

“You’ve been avoiding me. Why?” The last person you want to see stands in front of you. You can feel your desk digging into you from behind as you’re cornered in the quiet walls of your office with nowhere to run. Petty excuses are futile in the presence of Al-Haitham, and his looming shadow makes you feel impossibly small.  

You cannot fall in love with him, you’ve told yourself this over and over again. They are bitter words to swallow down, stuck in the back of your throat as you force a practiced smile to hide every confession that threatens to tear through. There are certain things that cannot be said because they will tear down the walls you’ve so carefully constructed, and you know better than anyone how terrible he is at lending a hand when it comes to emotions. Al-Haitham is a man of titles: the Grand Scribe of the Akademiya, the current Acting Grand Master, a saviour to Sumeru (whether he acknowledges it or not), and a good friend. So you cannot fall in love with him because that will threaten everything you have built thus far.

And yet you free-fall, stumbling into these emotions you struggle to push away. You remind yourself to re-read the label that describes your relationship: childhood friends. Keep it that way, you say to yourself. Don’t fall in love, don’t fall for silly words and actions that have no deeper meaning. Falling in love is dangerous, and falling in love with Al-Haitham is possibly the most dangerous of all. You know this and yet you cannot bring yourself to draw the line. He pushes his way into his life without care, his body fitting the indent on your couch from sleepless nights of research and escaping from Kaveh’s hammering in the middle of the night.

Don’t fall in love. Instead, push him away, pull yourself out, place every obstacle you can on this chess-game like friendship that’s cornering you. So how is it that he’s cornered you now, arms crossed over his chest as he stares you down.

“I’ve been busy.” You sigh with a shake of your head. It’s not a lie, you have been rather busy with the sudden influx of paperwork and rebuilding that comes with the rebuilding of the Akademiya. But you’ve still made an effort to steer clear of Al-Haitham when you could. It was changing your daily routes, choosing to take longer walks around the Akademiya to get to your office in the morning, and instead taking up Kaveh’s offers to get lunch at the cafe across the city rather than the one just outside the Akademiya. 

Al-Haitham rolls his eyes ,”Do you think I’m that stupid? You’ve been actively avoiding me. This is the first time I’ve seen you in almost two weeks. So why?” You hear the slight waver in his voice as his words end. There’s a flicker of worry in his eyes that lasts for just one second, but it’s that one second that punches through your pride. It’s too late to back out now.

“Because— I don’t understand you! You buy me my favourite pastries and then tell me it’s because you wanted one too but I know you hate how sweet these are! You ask for book recommendations but I know you hate the books I read because you have this odd enjoyment of reading physics books! You seek out my company and claim it’s only because you have nothing better to do! And I don’t understand what you want from me!” He remains quiet at your words and you shake your head slightly. Of course he doesn’t say anything. When you finally put him in check, he doesn’t know what to say. His pawns are gone, chess pieces not set up for your play, so he stays quiet. 

“I don’t like feeling whatever this feeling is.” Your hands tremble as you bring them to your chest. The words bubble up from your chest and there’s no stopping them now. Not after you’ve pushed them down for so long and watched from a distance, because this distance is what has kept you going for so long. 

“I see you and— and suddenly I have this stupid smile on my face and my heart beats faster and you don’t even know!” You cry out, “You don’t care that time and time again I have to turn away just because I get so worried that you’ll see me and know.!” He stares at you blankly and you hate it. You hate that you can’t read any emotions in those pretty eyes of his. You hate that his mouth hasn’t moved, not a twitch or a smirk, or a smile, or anything. You hate that his hands reach up to grasp yours, the surprisingly soft texture of his gloves stark against your clammy palms.

He opens his mouth and you brace for the worse, only for him to say softly, “Breathe, please.” A shaky breath rattles your lungs as you stare at him, mouth parted in a mix of surprise at the sudden contact and how damn close he is. There’s a mix of something in those pretty eyes of his as he ducks down to look at you from behind his grey swept hair. A smile, a rare, genuine one tugs on his lips and you can only stare. You’ve laid out your emotions bare for him to see, put him in check position and can only wait for him to make his next move.

And what you hate the most about Al-Haitham is his infuriating ability to take his time, even in the most stressful of situations. You’re acutely aware of your breathing, the rise and fall of your chest and his as you stand in silence. Your hands, no doubt sweaty, still shake even in his gentle grasp and you  know that he can see the way your eyes dart around nervously, refusing to hold eye contact with him.

“After knowing me for so long, I thought that you might be able to read me just as well.” Forget how nervous you feel at the moment. You want to strangle him for his cryptic words. He’s always been good at this, dangling the truth in front of everyone’s eyes under the disguise of honey coated words and half-truths. Perhaps, at another time, you would indulge in riddled words and bite back with some of your own, but now they only irritate you. And Al-Haitham knows it. Just the thought of it brings a teasing grin to his face, one you recognize immediately.

“Don’t you think it’s rather foolish of you to avoid me like this?” Al-Haitham hums and steps back to give you some space. He doesn’t let go of your hands. “After all this time, you’d think that maybe you might realize that I care for you just as much, if not more, as you do for me.” You let the words sink in, bask in their warmth before scowling at him. Tugging your hands from his grasp you push at him gently, ignoring the feeling of his chest against your fingers as you look away.

“Just say you like me too.” You grumble. Al-Haitham’s fingers come to drag along your skin, teasing yet comforting as he laughs, “What a childish way of putting it.” You roll your eyes but stay in your spot, relishing in the turn of events. Quick as it may have been, and far too unexpected for your liking, you’d be lying if you said this wasn’t something Al-Haitham would do.

He hums, catching your attention once more. “So, are you done avoiding me?”

“Keep up this attitude and I won’t be.” Al-Haitham grins and you can’t help but match his expression. But nothing prepares you for the brief kiss that his planted on your forehead, a promise sealed without words, an act of comfort and honesty. And in the confines of these four walls, you let yourself fall in love again. 

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3

🎭 just playing the part !

a social media au | scaramouche x gender neutral reader

synopsis: you and scaramouche are both drama majors and have been at each other’s throats vying for the same lead roles since high school. but when you’re both cast as each other’s love interest in your second year you’re forced to be civil with your academic rival and see him in a new light. are his feelings for you true or is he just playing the part?

genre: modern college au, enemies/rivals to lovers, fluff, crack, angst if you squint

status: - ongoing, random updates, will try not to drag it out

warnings! time stamps don’t matter, unsupportive parents, mentions of alcohol and weed, will add more if needed, slight ooc?

ACTION!

the cast:

↳ y/n’s gang | scara’s “friends”

ACT ONE — new year same me cus i’m perfect !

01. the announcement

02. on the edge of my seat

03. beat me to it

04. the amigos

05. an unexpected companion

06. a one night stand

07. red flag

08. auditions

09. anticipation

10. monopoly ruins friendships

ACT TWO — the show must go on !

11. i won but at what cost

12. just admit you’re a virgin

13. i’m kinkshaming you

14. he’s a ten but he has mommy issues

15. grape lookin ass

16. enemies with benefits

17. will you be my bf? (totally not clickbait!)

18. wikihow perfect first kisses

19. with the taste of your lips i’m on a ride

20. bereal? id rather bedead / 20.5 confirm or delete

ACT THREE — break a leg !

21. is this what friends do?

22. twenty-one questions

23. walk him like a dog

24. free therapy

25. suffer in silence

26. kiss cam

27. falling for ya, literally

28. emails i cant send

29. yes or yes

30. loyalty tests

ACT FOUR — curtain call !

31. making it big

32. the it couple

33. after party; epilogue

CUT!

tag list — closed!

author’s note: i wanted to try smth longer tumblr needs more scara aus since we unlocked his heartbreaking backstory ,,, o(╥﹏╥)o i’m doing a college au! go easy on me this is my first long smau !! if u want me to continue it pls lmk i need motivation,,i’m also in college so i don’t have an update schedule lmao

savior amidst snowstorms.

# — pairing: snow prince!albedo x gn!reader

# — characters: snow prince!albedo, gender neutral reader

# — summary: moments before it all ends, a figure comes to your rescue.

# — warnings: mentions of blood, death, near-death experience (reader)

# — tags: first meetings, implied violence, unspecified injuries, introduction to au piece, angst (??), reader is in LOTS of pain and wishes for death but no MCD

# — notes: SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGSSSS I FINALLY WROTE SOMETHING I LIKE ABOUT SNOW PRINCE!ALBEDO AAAAA I CAN'T WAIT TO WRITE MORE! reblogs and reactions are greatly appreciated, and i hope you enjoy this (and are curious about it, too!)

wanna join the tag list?

✧ — ❄️ + 🌼 — ✧

i'm going to die here.

that is all you can think as you watch the lawachurl shamble towards you. you did all you could. you put up one hell of a fight; originally you were faced with at least ten hilichurls, all of which you managed to defeat. you didn't escape from that confrontation unscathed, but they were dead, and you were still breathing. unfortunately all the commotion lured the attention of a lawachurl in the distance, and now you were staring down the cause of your inevitable demise. the hilichurls you faced earlier left you cut up and bruised, so you're in no state to take this thing on.

like hell i'd be able to anyway, you think as it lumbers closer. even in the cold, you can smell the stench of raw death wafting off of this hulking creature. how many adventurers has it feasted on? how many unfortunate souls have fallen to this thing? whatever the number is, you know in your heart that you're about to add onto it. a sharp sting of pain shoots up your leg as you try to step back and gain some distance from it. a hilichurl arrow pierced your thigh deeply, the point of which is still firmly lodged in there. only now, when the adrenaline has started to make way for fear, do you feel the acute agony of it all. all of your injuries seem to weigh on you now, the time when you need it the least.

boom. the snow-covered ground seems to rattle under your feet as the lawachurl comes closer. about ten paces away now. it's a miracle the thing hasn't lunged at you, else you'd have made a fine dinner by now.

boom. nine paces. it's almost tame in its demeanor. in its eyes, you see nothing but a predatory hunger. blood from your wounds hits the fresh snow with a soft plip-! and though you can't see its nostrils, you're prety sure they must've flared at the smell.

boom. boom. seven paces. dragonspine is about to become your icy grave. what did you even come here for, anyway? what could have possibly been so important that you'd put your life on the line like this? was it some silly commission? some old adventurer's tale? what does it even matter? nothing matters in the face of death.

boom. boom. five paces. this is it. you let your grip on your sword slacken and you hear the metal collide with the snowy floor. what use is it to you at this point, anyway? the lawachurl reaches out. you let your eyes slip shut and brace for a painful death.

but it never comes.

you count each breath you take expecting the next one to be your last. after the fifth one though, you hesitate to take a sixth as you're curious as to why you're still breathing. by now, the lawachurl should have you in its frosty grip, crushing your ribs. why are you still alive?

you open one eye and are surprised to see the lawachurl not even facing you. its back is to you and it's down on one knee with its head lowered. even with such a hazy mind, you recognize that posture. it's one of servitude, of submission. another surge of fear grips you by the throat. is there something that even a beast like this would bow its head to? what could possibly possess more strength than this creature on this icy hellscape? you hobble to the side to get a glimpse of the new arrival.

there's... nothing there. great. not only are there abominations on this mountain, but it would appear that it's haunted, too. you have half a mind to scream. how much longer will the universe dangle death in front of you? you don't like being teased, much less with your own safety. a frigid gust of wind nearly knocks you over, forcing your eyes shut. the blood that leaks from your head seems to crystallize, making it hard for you to open your eyes. you manage to pry one of them open to peer out into the distance; surely, you're imagining things. the mountain is many things, but haunted couldn't possibly be one of them... right?

the way forward is almost misty, the gusty snow obscuring the view of what's ahead. but through it all, you make out a figure of something. a silhouette of a person walking your way.

a person? that can't be right. a cryo lawachurl wouldn't be bowing to a human. you squint and try to focus, a part of you hoping that the figure turns out to be that of another, potentially more horrifying, monster. yet the silhouette remains the same. it's clearer now that it's closer. it's that of a man — his stride seems smooth, his body seemingly unbothered by the chaotic snow whirling around him. he appears untouched by the elements, almost.

you gulp. maybe you shouldn't rule out a haunting just yet.

you can't run, so you're forced to watch as the man comes closer and closer still. when he breaks through the mist, you take notice of how ethereal he looks amidst the snowstorm. his hair is a pale blond and reflects what little sunlight comes through the clouds. it reaches just below his shoulders and is almost neatly pulled into a braided half ponytail. his skin is pale and his eyes are a sharp teal that cut through the whiteness of your surroundings. his white coat bears navy blue and gold embellishments and his hands are gloved. he extends one to the monster and you see his lips move, though you can't hear his words over the whirlwind of snow. only when the hulking beast beside you moves do you realize what he said.

"arise."

you yelp and, for the first time in minutes, your body moves. you crash into the snow beneath you unceremoniously and with a loud groan. everything hurts. you're truly defeated. the man's lips move once more and the lawachurl approaches him with a bowed head. to your horror, it looks as though he's speaking to it — even worse is that it appears to understand him. if he were to give the order, that thing would tear you limb from limb. you don't know if you should waste your last breath begging for your life, or if you should just go back to accepting your demise with open arms.

neither of those choices are correct, apparently, because when the lawachurl faces you once more, gone is the intense bloodlust you'd felt moments earlier. it approaches you again, this time seeming calm. the man behind it comes closer, allowing you to see it better. maybe you're delirious with pain, but you notice that he's extremely attractive. there's a certain elegance to his features, his cold, calculating stare making you want to bow your own head in submission.

yeah. definitely delirium. you're losing your mind.

"if you're going to kill me," you say, your throat lined with needles, "then please, don't let me suffer. make it quick. i'm in enough pain as is."

those teal eyes regard you closely. there isn't a lick of emotion on his face. "do you need assistance?" he asks. his voice, too, is devoid of emotion.

you blink your one eye slowly and notice dark spots in your vision. it won't be long before you lose consciousness. and hopefully, your life, too. look at you; so badly damaged that you're wishing for death. the man before you doesn't move an inch as he awaits your response. you spit blood onto the icy ground away from you. "just... kill me." you rasp. "please."

"i do not wish to see you dead." his crystalline lashes seem to flutter. if you didn't know any better, you'd think him an angel. it's a shame there's no wings protruding from his back. "i wish to aid you. will you allow me to do so?"

you stagger. "please." you beg. "just..." the dark spots grow suddenly, consuming your world. you plummet into darkness before you can finish your sentence and collapse into the snow, never to see the sun again.

...or so you'd think.

you awake with a start, your body screaming at you with every frantic breath you take. you pat yourself down despite the aching of your wounds. all of your flesh is relatively intact — did you seriously survive that encounter? what the hell was all of that? the hilichurls, the monster, the weird angel-man—

wait a minute.

once more, you pat yourself down. you feel bandages in various places, each one meticulously wrapped around your appendages. you look down at your legs and find them buried beneath luxurious cream-colored silk sheets. come to think of it, the mattress supporting your weight feels like it's curving to meet your body — where the hell are you?!

you do a quick sweep of the room and an unknown emotion makes itself present. you're not sure whether to feel awe, fear, or curiosity. the room is fit for royalty: its floor-to-ceiling windows are crystal clear, allowing for a perfect view of the snowy mountain outside, the floors are marbled and polished, the furniture seems antiquated, yet grand all the same, the silvers and golds either woven through the cushions or embedded in the harder surfaces. this place, imposing and majestic as it might be, seems frozen in time — no one has touched this place in ages, yet it seems well-cared for. your head feels ready to explode. who in the archons' name would—?

"you've awoken."

you're not proud of the shriek that rips past your lips at the sound of the voice. (you're even less proud of the fact that you can hear it echoing off of the walls. was it really that quiet in here?) you turn to see the man from outside standing in your doorway, his features less illuminated, yet still regal in the dim lighting.

"i'm not going to harm you." his face remains as passive as ever. "please, don't shout."

"wh-why wouldn't i?" you retort. you break into a fit of hacking coughs. how did you not feel this ill a second ago? adrenaline sure works in strange ways. only now do you feel how flushed and clammy your skin is, how the banging in your head rivals that of a swordsmith forging a weapon, how painful it is just to take a breath. you ease yourself back into a lying position. you can't defend yourself like this. "you were communicating—" you pause to cough again— "with that monster outside! you could have killed me."

the man is at your side in the blink of an eye. an icy hand rests on your forehead and you feel a near instant relief. your eyes slip shut against your will. "you're running a high grade fever," he points out. "but i do not understand why you think me to be a threat when i saved your life. is gratitude lost on people in modern times?"

though spoken so evenly, such a biting response doesn't fit your image of this guy. who does he think he is? "you should have let me die." your voice is hoarse, barely a whisper. "let me die in peace." you partially mean it. the brief moments of clarity are nothing in comparison to the agony you're in. hell, you may as well be dead already. perhaps this is just what was waiting for you after you crossed over.

the man moves and you hear some shuffling. "i... don't want you to." he's whispering. it's almost like he's speaking to himself. "allow me to help you. please."

you can't make heads or tails of anything anymore. "water," you plead. your body is truly on its last legs. you're begging, though if you were of clear mind, you wouldn't reasonably ask this man for a thing; survival instincts have kicked in, and you're only trying to use what's been given to you. "give me water, please."

instead of the cold water you expected, you feel your head being propped up and hot water (tea?) slides down your throat instead. it's infinitely better than the ice water you had imagined — the relief is instant, and the spikes in your throat seem to clear almost immediately. before you can ask for more, some more is already being offered at your lips, and you drink eagerly, like a dying man in a desert. once you've had your fill, you're being eased back down, your body feeling just a touch better than before. words of gratitude don't make it out of you, so you settle for a sigh. you feel your consciousness slipping once more. dimly, you think there must have been a sedative in that drink. must be medicinal, you think, seeing as your throat doesn't hurt much anymore.

"the medicine will act faster if you rest." the man's voice seems so far away. "when you wake, please allow me the honor of knowing your name."

with the last of your energy, you breathe your own name in a whisper. you can almost hear the smile in the man's voice as you tread back into darkness.

"my name is albedo," he says. "it'll be my pleasure to greet you when you're fully conscious. get some sleep, now."

like you need to be told twice. almost on command, you fall into a deep, restful, dreamless sleep.

✦ oh my god. OH MY GOD??? SNOW PRINCE!ALBEDO INTRODUCTION??? WHEN'S THE FIC ZUZU???

✦ i actually am VERY proud of this. it's not the intro that i've been dreaming about for... what, a year? but i like the setup. i can't wait to build this au again.

ᵔᴗᵔ . . 𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝘀𝗼𝗳𝘁 𝘀𝗽𝗼𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂 !

ᴖ.ᴖ . . fem!reader ⁝ wc. 895 ⁝ reblog

𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗺𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵𝗲 [𝘄𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗿]

it was only a matter of time before he got a taste of his own medicine. many yearned for this fateful day to happen, however, no one predicted it to occur with his lover. it was a curveball to discover the former harbinger had been hiding a sweet woman from the public and his colleagues for years now.

aether, for one, was still in shock no matter how much time passed since the two of you asked to join him on his return to mondstadt after the fiasco in sumeru. in the present circumstances, you three—four, counting paimon—were by mingyun village when nightfall arrived. seeking shelter in a small cave, he left you two alone to pick a few jueyun chillis to prepare the famous wanmin meal for dinner. 

though, apparently ignorant of the topic of your discussion, he can tell you were begging with your lover based on your body language. if he were to guess what, it must have been to gather firewood like he previously urges scaramouche to do and the young man refused because it was “beneath his status to do basic labor.”

your gentle demeanor might not say it outright but the glint in your eyes did. you are going to get what you want despite of the methods.

“please?”

“no way.” he turns his back on you and crosses his arms. he wasn’t going to fall for your schemes, he inwardly scoffs at you, his sudden change of heart didn’t mean he’s gone soft. your place as his lover won’t warrant any special treatment.

sniffle.

his shoulders tense. no. nope. he’s encountered your petty act one too many times. he knows far better than most how conniving you can be regardless of your deceitful appearance. he scoffed, and people call him manipulative…

sniffle.

“stop it,” he snaps with a hard frown, rolling his eyes, “that is not going to work on me.”

sniffle.

“ugh, when will you learn that i consider such theatrics from you tacky…” he turns around, intending to give you a proper scolding when he sees the visible tears streaking down your cheeks. “no,” he whispers, cupping your face.

his thumb tenderly caresses your cheeks, wiping them away as best as he can. “no. no, no. don’t cry,” he mutters, “i’m…” stopping himself before he can say the next word.

he was conflicted. half of him was sick at the slight pleasure he felt over your misty eyes. you were always a pretty thing. the other part of him aches over the giant realization he was the reason you were upset. his fault.

“alright!” he growls, as if it stings him to utter every syllable. “i’ll go fetch the damn fire wood, ‘just quit your crying.”

wiping away the tears, you wrap your arms around him. he was taken aback by the sudden show of affection but does return it nonetheless. his embrace warm, holding you tight against his chest. 

your eyes trail around your surroundings and eventually find aether’s. it didn’t take much for the traveler to grow uncomfortable after he got caught stumbling upon the very intimate exchange. you stay silent, playfully winking at him in the end.

aether gasps, archons, were you evil.

𝗰𝘆𝗻𝗼 [𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹 𝗺𝗮𝗵𝗮𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗿𝗮]

he was not an easily impressed young man, some might call him ‘difficult to please.’ it wasn’t hard to imagine. a member of the academe could make a revolutionary discovery and all they could receive is a short hum of approval. the closest to verbal praise might’ve been when tighnari briefed him on collei’s progress.

any situation beyond that? none. for you? more to count on both hands. it was the most amusing yet exasperating thing to see! you doing the bare minimum permits more applause from him than all of their efforts combined.

to be fair, it was difficult to call out these signs of favoritism when it gets him in a good mood in exchange. nobody needed to point it out, everyone can see he has ‘heart-eyes’ for you. in a matter of seconds, he was reduced to a simple-minded loverboy in your company.

today was unlike other days, the scholars were subjected to a front row seat of your relationship. it was utterly bizarre to see the general mahamatra grinning softly, sort of.

“cyno, my love! you promised!” you whine, pouting. he was unbelievable! you thought to yourself. downright ridiculous. he swore to make time for you and accompany you on your visit to the city.

“i know, but plans change, darling. i have urgent matters to attend, my love,” he dismisses. all lies. he’s aware you would think to stop and greet your friends as well. to be frank, he’d rather avoid them and their side remarks about him and your relationship.

you didn’t respond, simply choosing to sport your infamous puppy eyes instead. he sighs to himself, oh… not this again. you were a crafty young woman, using his weakness for you against him.

he was standing strong at first yet in less than ten seconds; he breaks a wisp of a grin, one that results in your audience turning wide-eyed, and closes the space between you.

“c’mere, silly girl.” he beckons for you to draw nearer to him, and you instantly follow to glide your arms around his waist. “allow me to finish reading through this last stack and we can go.”

the fall

a quick one-shot I wrote after playing the new archon quest, about the only thing that kinda bothered me. so this isn’t particularly well-written or anything, just a quick, self indulgent little thing.

spoilers for the archon quest (3.2) ahead.

Watching Scaramouche, the so-called “False God,” desperately reach out for the electro Gnosis, hearing him beg with that heartbreaking expression on his usually resentful, cold face… And seeing Nahida, the Traveler and Paimon completely ignore his pleas in favor of using the Gnosis to save Irminsul, it made something twist inside your chest.

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— it’s the small things with you that matter most

just some day-to-day snippets depicting how it’s like to be in a relationship with alhaitham.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 4.4k wc, fluff, (attempts at) humour, slight crack, established relationship, idiots in love

A/N : HAPPY BDAY BELOVED HAITHAM !! smitten clingy sappy menace haitham is my lifeline huhu 〒▽〒 (this is also just me once again advocating cute/energetic readers with haitham TヘT)

(can be read as a standalone or viewed as the post-happenings of [how to woo the acting grand sage 101] ^^)

Navigating through a relationship with Alhaitham isn’t as hard as one might think.

The transition from friends-who-pined-for-years to lovers was a lot easier than you’d like to admit. While there were some significant changes to adjust to (read: Alhaitham’s sudden surge in displays of affection), your dynamic pretty much remained the same.

And while you’ve had your fair share of ups and downs, most of your more serious fights happened before you got together. Considering how long you both have known one another, it wouldn’t be an understatement to say you know the other like the back of your hand — understanding minuscule hints and mannerisms anyone else wouldn’t notice — and so, most disputes are settled before they can even surface.

Most of your fights wouldn’t drag on for long as you’re both pretty open to discussing the root cause and where you both were in the wrong. That and the fact it’s hard to be apart from each other under bad terms, as you’ve come to realise after the particularly bad argument you had two months ago (Kaveh demanded you both stay at your house so that he didn’t have to witness your intensified displays of affection after reconciling).

More often than not, your subject of disagreements are petty, typically resulting in revoked privileges of affection from the victim. That usually results in both sides being depraved and cranky (well, more so than usual in Alhaitham’s case) until the revoked privilege is, uh, unrevoked,

Well, it’s a good thing you both rarely argue!

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