Words To Describe Facial Expressions

CYNO | King Deshret and the Three Magi

childe x gn! reader / fake dating au / reader is a fatui medic / childhood friends to (fake) lovers / fluff(..???) light angst at the end / mutual pining

"my family thinks we're dating."

you pause.

"aja– tartaglia, you're half-bleeding to death and that's your biggest worry?"

the ginger stifles a wince, disguising his discomfort with a chuckle. (you notice. you always do. so you take a deep breath because the eleventh harbinger of the fatui is absolutely intolerable.)

“if you stay still, i’ll do it.” you sigh, knowing fully well the irrevocable mess you were getting yourself into.

the way his (stupid. idiotic. unreasonably charming) face splits into a grin makes you decide that it’s worth setting your heart on fire and watching it turn into bitter ashes just for the temporary warmth in your heart, rivalling even the coldest of snowstorms in snezhnaya.

half a month flies by.

you find yourself on the doorsteps of childe's home with his arms enveloping you amidst the crystalline snowflakes drifting across the nation of ice. he can sense how nervous you are, despite the calm facade instilled into your facial features with fluency and ease.

so he does what every good– decent, you insist, boyfriend would do. tartaglia, code-name childe, teases you to the very ends of hell, cupping your crimson-tinted cheeks and mockingly— endearingly pinching the lobes of your ears.

(childe is a little mixed up with the intricacies of a romantic relationship but at least he’s got the spirit, you think, as if he wasn’t in possession of your fragile heart, holding it with abnormal care with the way he treats you.)

the door swings open, all hell breaks loose.

you make out something akin to "aww, i betted on an imaginary partner." in the background, paired with excited squeals and shouts coming from ajax's younger siblings amongst the crackling of fire.

it's absolutely insulting that his siblings like you more than they do him, ajax insists. it’s ironic, really— considering he feels the same way as his siblings do.

(he blames it how you silently care for him.)

he knows of the way you sneak fleeting glances at him in the midst of a meeting. the way you never say no to him despite disapproving of his horribly self-destructive ideas. the way you slip painkillers in his drink when you see him grimace from a throbbing wound.

what childe fails to notice is the way you look at him.

“so… when are you going to put a ring on it?” ajax’s mother trails off, cerulean eyes teasingly flickering between the two of you.

you choke on your food. ajax’s cheeks flushes a drunken red. to your utmost dismay, the harbinger gets down on one knee in a grandeur manner despite his intoxicated state, fumbling with the ring tucked in his pocket.

why does he have a ring tucked in his pocket?

"ajax, you're drunk." you coo lovingly in the eyes of his family members, smiling at the noises of interest that echo around the dining room. "sorry about that. it happens quite often, really." you hum, and the next thing you know you're being sent to his bedroom with an extra bottle of vodka and extremely enthusiastic blessings from his parents.

you wind up with your lap as his head rest, stroking his unexpectedly soft hair as he practically vibrates from his sprawled out form on the bed.

there is absolutely no upside to loving childe, you conclude.

(maybe there was a tiny lie in that, considering it means you get to see how his slightly handsome face twists into a sheepish grin when one of his terrible ideas fail, how a tuff of ginger hair falls between the ridge of his nose and eyes no matter how often he tries pinning it back up every single day, how charming he actually is– no, no. the point is that you don't love–)

"shhhh, don't tell anyone, but i'm desperately in love with (name)."

time freezes into tiny shards of shattered glass, you're holding your breath unknowingly and childe is still looking at the ceiling with lovesick eyes, grinning from ear to ear.

“maybe they’re in love with you too.” you suggest shakily, not paying any mind to his piercing gaze. ajax hums, eyes slowly closing as he succumbs into the embrace of alcohol.

his thoughts are slurring, the only thing on his mind is you, you, you. "'s impossible," he mumbles, "i always want what i can't have– childhood friends or not, i wouldn't want to lose them to my sappy feelings."

maybe that's the closure you need. no matter the sins he carries, nor the frigid chains of the tsaritsa and all that lies in the abyss laid upon him, it was always destined to end like this.

it is when you understand this in the depths of ajax's monotonous sapphire eyes that you realise;

you are undeniably in love with him.

“Don’t let go…”

It breaks B’s heart that A says it like a question. Like there’s even the smallest chance that they would leave.

“I won’t.” B says, barely holding their sobs in.  A is shaking like a leaf in B’s lap and they shift to pull the jacket closer around them. The blood is starting to seep through the makeshift bandages and B can feel it staining their own skin and clothes.

“I won’t leave. I’m not gonna let go, I’ll stay, I’ll-”

A tear slips down and lands on A’s face and this time B can’t hold it in. They sob and whimper in the same breath, curling over A like they’re nursing a wound of their own.

“Why are you crying?” A whispers, slurring on the words. They sound sleepy.

“I’m… I’m not, I- … You’re going to be fine.”

B takes a shaky breath and collects themself and then says again, more firmly.

“You’re going to be fine.”

A looks up at B, searches their eyes sadly for a moment before giving in to their heavy lids and closes their eyes.

“Ok.”

I dont know if you will read this but if you do...

Can you make a plot of person A being turned to stone and person B trying to find a way to bring them back?

"B.... B please stop."

"No I can't, I can't, I need to- I need to find a way-"

"B they're dead-"

"NO, I can help! I can save them, I just need to find the right-"

"B THEY'RE DEAD, STONE, KAPUT, YOU CANT SAVE A ANYMORE SO JUST STOP."

70 Taunting Enemies Prompts

Remember, requests are open.

WARNINGS: VIOLENCE, CURSING, MENTION OF BLOOD. MENTION OF A GUN.

DIALOGUE:

TAUNTER:

1) “Is that really all you got?” 

2) “Come on, you can do better than that.” 

3) “I’m not even sweating yet.” 

4) “Think I broke more of a sweat petting my cat than I did fighting you.” 

5) “I’m sure you can hit me if you try hard enough. I believe in you.” 

6) “So close.” 

7) “You’re… boring me.”

8) “I expected more.”

9) “Why couldn’t the cops deal with you?” 

10) “Oh, no.” (said really sarcastically) 

11) “I’m sooo scared.” 

12) “Honestly, if you weren’t threatening actual lives, you’d be more of a nuisance, really.” 

13) “This is what I was called for? You?” 

14) “What… is this?” 

15) “Do you want me to slow down for you?” 

16) “If it makes you feel better, I’ll let you get a hit in.” 

17) “This is stupid. Goodnight.” 

18) “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be good enough to beat me one day.” 

19) “Come and get it.” 

20) “That actually hurt. Wow.” 

21)  “Compared to my usual crowd, you’re nothing.” 

22) “Get out of my way.” 

23) “Move.” 

24) “Having fun?” 

25) “Aw, you’re not hurt already, are you?” 

26) “I was just playing. Surely you can take more.” 

27) “Oh my, is that blood? Just from that?”

RESPONDING 

28) “You have to get through me!”

29) “Shut up!” 

30) “I can keep going.” 

31) “This— this is nothing.” 

32) “I’ll make you regret saying that!”

33) “Then let me make this a little more challenging!” 

34) “Of course it hurts, dipshit.” 

35) “You should be scared.” 

36) “Stop— stop taunting me!” 

37) “Fun? Fun? Don’t insult me.” 

38) “I’ll show you better!” 

39) “I can’t stand you.” 

40) “Get out of my way!” 

41) “Over my dead body!” 

42) “I won’t let you get to them.” 

43) “I’ll make sure you can’t hurt anybody else.” 

44) “Over my grave, you bastard.” 

45) “Dammit, all right, here we go!”

46) “I’ll take you down if it’s the last thing I do.” 

47) “If I can’t take you down, I will never forgive myself.” 

48) “Try and move me, I dare you!” 

49) “You’re gonna regret that!” 

50) “You want to see what I can do?” 

51)  “You’re nothing.”

52) “Keep taunting me and see what happens.” 

53) “I’ll give you one chance, walk away.” 

54) “Fine, I guess we’re doing this.” 

55) “Y’know, talking during fighting isn’t very professional!” 

SCENARIOS 

56) You have a stupid smirk on your face, and I’m just trying to be serious. Why are you like this? Can we fight already? 

57) Why are you taunting me? Stop— stop dancing. We’re in the middle of a fight. 

58) When the cops/superhero/my friend told me what you were doing, I wanted to stay in bed. And now that I’m here, I’m thinking that maybe I should have. 

59) Is that bomb fake or real. I can never tell with you.

60) I’m bleeding from your knife/kicks/punches, but I’m not gonna stop fighting until you’re finally taken down. 

61) Every time you taunt me, I see red, and you know this. I should be stronger, but I’m not. 

62) I won’t let you hurt the people I love. Not while I’m still breathing. 

63) You notice that I’m breathing heavy, and you just keep smirking. I— I can keep going. I can. 

64) We used to be friends, what happened to us? Why do we always have to fight? 

65) If you’d just put that gun/remote/knife, we could go home, y’know? We don’t have to keep fighting. 

66) You’re not fighting like you used to, what happened? 

67) This is pathetic and a waste of my time, you’re in my way. 

68) You’ve gotten weaker, I can’t help but let a smirk cross my lips, this is almost… funny. 

You stumble against the wall with half-lidded eyes. It’d be so easy to just stroll by you, but for some reason, I can’t help but keep taunting you. 

69) You hate me. I hate you. Yet, taunting you is one of my favorite things to do. 

Whumptober - day 30: major character death

(CW: death, blood loss, this one is just... pretty Sad, so be warned y'all)

“Villain,” Hero gasps through the phone. “I need your help.”

Villain frowns, rubbing their eyes and looking out the window. It’s not even dawn yet. And Hero’s never used the number they’d given them on a whim before.

Villain sits up in their bed, something cold pooling in the pit of their stomach. “What’s wrong?”

“I, I made a mistake. I thought I could do this on my own but there are so many…” Hero pauses as muffled noises fill the line. When they speak again, louder over screams and threats, Villain can almost see the fear lacing the words. “There are too many enemies, Villain. Can you... I need your help, can you please… I just, can’t– I, I can’t–”

“Where are you?” Villain cuts in, already slipping out of bed and into their suit. “Give me the address and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Hero says it, and without another word, Villain hangs up and rushes out of their house and into their car.

They’ve never heard Hero like that before. Vulnerable. Scared.

Not when they’d been a second away from losing the city to Villain, not when they’d been hurt, not when everything seemed impossible. Villain can’t stop playing it over and over in their head.

If anyone’s touched their Hero–

Villain steps on the gas pedal and races faster through the streets, dodging cars and pedestrians as they cross red light after red light.

They don’t take long to get there. Not even half an hour to a place they would usually take an entire one.

But in the end, it doesn’t matter.

Because when Villain gets there, barely parking before jerking the door open and sprinting out, there are no more fighting sounds. No roaring enemies. There’s only silence, deafening in its stillness.

Villain’s rushed footsteps stop as they spin in the middle of what used to be a warehouse, looking around the rubble as their heart fills the soundless void, hammering so loud against their chest that they barely hear it at first.

The sound of too fast, too shallow breathing. The almost silent whimpers that accompany it.

And then they see it – blood on the floor, nearly black under the fading stars, marking a trail to where Hero’s body lies limp behind a fallen pillar.

“No,” they whisper, frozen in horror at the sight of Hero’s blood-soaked uniform, their chest rising and falling in painfully erratic movements. “No.”

Hero moans, and Villain snaps out of their shocked daze, rushing to kneel by their side.

“Wake up,” they say through gritted teeth, cupping Hero’s cheeks and turning their pale face upwards. “Hero, wake up. I’m here, I came, now wake up.”

There’s too much blood. Everywhere. On Hero’s ragged uniform, feeding a crimson puddle under Villain’s knees, staining their hands.

“Hero, open your eyes!” Villain yells, voice cracking when despair filters in. “Look at me. Come on, I came as fast as I could, you cannot do this–”

“I knew it,” Hero coughs, voice small and hoarse. Their eyes flutter open a moment later. Villain nearly starts crying when their nemesis smirks at them. “Knew you’d come. When I called. I knew it.”

“Of course I’d come,” Villain huffs. As gently as they can, Villain lifts Hero’s head and places it on their lap before pulling out their phone and dialing the ambulance number, barely acknowledging how much their hands shake as they do.

“I thought I…” Hero mutters, throat bobbing when they swallow a moan, half-lidded eyes fighting to remain open. “Thought I could do it. Thought I could... win. I, I tried. Really… really did. B-but there were… so many of them.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, I know you did. But now you have to try again, alright? You have to try and stay awake for me.”

Villain calls for help, all the while staring at Hero’s glazed eyes, their parted lips and colorless cheeks haunting in the dim light of the moon. Hero simply blinks at them, slowly, watching their lips move as Villain talks on the phone.

“Help is on the way,” they say as soon as they hang up, running trembling fingers through Hero’s blood-matted hair. “You just have to stay with me a little longer, okay?”

Hero nods, the movement reluctant and frail, but there. Villain tries to tell themself it’s a good sign, even when a moment later Hero whimpers and winces, their fingers curling over the gaping wound crossing their stomach.

Villain places theirs on top of Hero’s, and presses down. Hard. Hero wails.

“Sorry,” Villain whispers.

Hero leans their head back on Villain’s lap, neck bared as they stare up at their nemesis.

“Y-you’re scared,” they breathe.

“No, I’m not,” Villain replies with a frown, keeping their eyes firmly focused on the ever-growing puddle of blood around them both.

“It’s okay,” Hero says, free hand feebly finding its way to rest on top of Villain’s, their touch so terribly cold. “Don’t be scared.”

“Hero–”

“I’m not.”

A sob tears through Villain’s throat at that, both disbelieving and terrified.

“Stop that,” they croak, turning their teary eyes to Hero’s calm ones. They look almost peaceful, looking at Villain like that. “I know what you’re doing but help is on the way. You just have to hold on for a little longer. So stop trying to say goodbye.”

“’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to–”

“You came," they whisper breathlessly, voice wavering and cracking as they go on. "I, I called and you… came. Did w-what I asked, b-but I… can’t do w-what you're asking. I’m… sorry”

For a moment, Villain can only stare at Hero, tasting salt through parted lips as tears they hadn’t even realized were falling drip down their cheeks.

“Hero don’t you dare give up,” they snarl.

“I’m just so… tired.” Hero says as their eyes close, and for an instant Villain looks down at their chest, scared of what they’ll see when they do. But Hero’s chest rises, slowly, painfully, but rises, and then falls. Their eyes open back up a moment later. “Just wanna sleep.”

“No, Hero do not dare to close your eyes again.”

But they do.

Villain shakes them as gently as they can, and Hero dazedly blinks at them yet again.

“Keep your eyes on me,” Villain commands, pressing harder on their wound until a small sob slips out of Hero's lips. “Just a little longer, Hero. Please, just stay with me a little longer.”

“Sorry, Villain,” Hero murmurs, a too shallow breath making them whimper, mouth opening just long enough for Villain to see red shining around their teeth. “Can’t.”

“No, Hero, look at me!”

Instead, Hero’s eyes fall shut. Villain shakes them again, looking up when the distant sound of ambulance sirens reaches their ears.

“They’re here! Hero, help is here, just open your eyes one more time for me, alright? Just, just one more time, help is here.”

But when Villain looks back at Hero, expecting a hazy gaze and painful too-shallow breaths, all they find are closed eyelids and an unmoving chest.

“NO!” Villain screams, hugging Hero against their chest, hands slippery with blood as they clutch their enemy’s uniform and shake them as hard as they can. “Wake up! Hero, wake up, look at me! Come on Hero, don't die on me, please!”

Hero’s head lolls against their shoulder, almost as an answer, limp as Villain shakes them again and again.

Villain doesn’t let go. Not when Hero's skin starts cooling down in their embrace, not when the ambulance sirens become colorful lights, not when their throat feels raw as they scream into their nemesis’s bloodied hair.

But no matter how much they wish and scream and cry, Hero’s chest doesn’t rise again, and their eyes remain closed.

-

tagging @ladygwennn @burtlederp @despairdragon

hi lia!!! i love your writing sm especially REDAMANCY IN YOUR GAZE. !!! so nicely written and hits me right in the feels ;w;

anywhoo i'm here to submit a request! hope this sparks your inspiration but if not feel free to delete it, ok? no pressure <3

i'm curious to see you writing angst, so can we perhaps have zhongli, xiao, kazuha, and itto with the situation/prompt: 'seeing their s/o reader dying'? bonus brownie points if reader died in their arms c: yeah i woke up and chose violence today ahah it can be in whatever format you feel most comfortable with!

ps. just reject this if you feel uncomfortable with the concept!! i didn't see a rule against this so i thought i'd drop by and ask. thank you and have a nice day <3 <3 <3

- 💠

★彡 KISS ME WITH YOUR EYES CLOSED.

SUMMARY. you have left with a piece of their heart and you're never coming back. or in which you spend your last moments in your lover's arms, but you are already beyond saving.

CHARACTERS. xiao, kazuha, zhongli, itto.

GENRE. angst, established relationship, hurt with no comfort.

CW. character death (no specified cause), mentions of blood (no specified injuries), unintended anger outburst + shinobu cameo in itto's part.

THOUGHTS. thank you for liking my writing and sending in this painful request <3 i'm unsure how well i executed this and i'm looking for room to improve — but for now, enjoy this angst that me and 💠 anonnie offered! >:)

✰ masterlist.

XIAO's words fail him, a failure stuck at the back of his throat from the deepest parts of his beating heart. Such a contrast to your heart that no longer thumps at the same tempo as his.

He is supposed to be used to this — no, he should have grown used to this already.

The putrid stench of death, the pools of scarlet red on the ground and his clothes, the void in his chest that he can't explain every single time.

For eons and eons, Xiao has seen lives perish before his eyes; his comrades, innocent lives, monsters, all of them. That is what he is meant to do; an Adeptus lives to bear pain, to shoulder it with resilience.

So, then, what is this feeling? Ache like never before, a longing for a different outcome, a sense of denial he is unfamiliar with.

Xiao stares blankly at your peaceful face, eyes closed and undisturbed. As if you are only lulled by the soft tune of slumber and merely sleeping in his arms — but that is no more than wishful thinking, he knows this.

Yet, still, he dares to hope.

How ironic, the Yaksha has never gotten along well with the concept of hope. But here he is, gathering the littlest courage to hope that you'd snap open your eyes and laugh at his forlorn expression like you always would.

But you don't, and Xiao realizes he is nothing but a hypocrite.

The same pain he is supposed to shoulder oh-so fearlessly is here, gnawing at his heart and consuming it alive — for once, Alatus doesn't think he can bear it any longer.

He is alone all over again.

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

Death, an old friend of KAZUHA's that he never wishes to confront ever again. But that statement only reeks of blissful ignorance, doesn't it?

Death casts its gaze on whom it wishes and it takes and it takes, that is the natural course of life — yet, it has become far too familiar of an acquaintance in his life that Kazuha can't help but despise it.

In the back of his mind, Kazuha sees a vision he thought he has long bid his goodbyes to already. The booming flash of thunder, a sword pierced through the floorboard of the Tenshukaku, a fallen friend and a reminder that he was far too late.

This moment is all too familiar.

The darkening clouds above his head, his hands that cradle you close, and your scent that is growing fainter and fainter by the second. Kazuha rests his face into the crook of your neck, muffling his cries against your skin; but you are as cold as ice and snow, so unbelievably cold.

Has the curse of fate come to take from him again? Kazuha's heart is only one, but death seems to favor him so much that it keeps taking pieces of his soul little by little.

Once, a lingering pain he learnt to move on from. Twice, he lets it be this time. Thrice, he begins questioning, just what more does it want from him? His family, his friend, now his one and only lover; Kazuha isn't sure what is left of him now. So, so many have been taken away from him.

"[Y/N]," Kazuha feels ashamed of the way his voice breaks as he whispers your name. He can't even speak properly, but how can he when you lay so feebly in his arms? One movement and it feels as if you'll crumble to dust, unreachable and away from his grasp.

He still has so many haiku's to read to you, songs he wants you to listen to, places he wants to see with your hand in his. So many of them, yet those dreams are nothing but regrets now.

Death will never leave him alone, will it? Even if tears stain his cheeks, even if he pleads with his life, even if he wishes to trade his life for yours, Kazuha is powerless.

"I love you," the man presses his lips to your forehead, he spares no mind to the tears falling down his cheeks like a stream of water he'd drink a fistful from during his travels.

One last time, just one more. But his words fall on deaf ears, for you are already gone and you're not coming back.

Yet again, death has torn away another piece of Kaedehara Kazuha's heart.

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

ZHONGLI drowns himself in complacent silence. He says nothing, he has nothing to say. The rueful sigh that escapes his lips is the only indication of the lid placed over the gaping sorrow in his chest.

The former Archon of Geo does not shed tears. If he cries, then would it have changed this outcome? No, it wouldn't. If he cries, then would it have lifted this pain in his chest for a brief moment? Perhaps, it would.

But if Zhongli allows tears to cloud his eyes, then hethese last few moments with you. Fate cannot be changed nor can it be severed, all he can do is embrace it wholeheartedly.

"Even if it hurts?" A ghost-like whisper hovers faintly above his ears, trying to shake his resolve. Zhongli affirms himself, "Even if it hurts." He doesn't acknowledge the littlest speck of desire to falter and say otherwise in the corner of his mind.

Even if it hurts.

After all this time, you are still as beautiful as the first day he laid eyes on you, Zhongli smiles as he closes your eyes with the palm of his hand.

Those gem-like [E/C] irises of yours that always stare back at his with such affection, your voice that greets his ears like a gentle melody, the raindrops of love you shower him in so generously.

He can't help but reminisce.

After all, reminiscence is one of, if not the most, loyal friend of his, unbound by erosion of time as long as there is someone who lives to tell the tale. Zhongli knows the story of you shall live, for he will be the one to tell it.

"Rest well, my love."

He will not forget you.

The former Archon of Geo does not shed tears. Yet, that day, the corners of his amber eyes begin to dampen just a little.

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

ITTO swears he sees his life flashes before his eyes. He is frantic, flighty even as if waiting for someone to get this over with and pinch him awake. This feels like a nightmare, it's just a bad dream, right?

But the warm pool of blood pouring onto his clothes is real, too real to just be a part of his imagination.

No, no, no, this can't be happening.

"Shinobu—" Itto calls out to his deputy leader hurriedly, agitation all too present in his voice. But the anxiety in his stomach churns even worse when he sees the mortified look in Shinobu's eyes; he doesn't like what it alludes to, not one bit.

He pleads almost desperately, "They'll be okay, right? Right?!" Shinobu has never lied to him, she always tells him the truth and so, he waits for an answer.

Reassurance, some hope that everything will be alright, just anything — but he receives no more than silence. And it angers him, Itto can feel the frustration rushing through his veins to his heart and to his head.

His grip on your frail body tightens and a pained holler tears itself from his throat, "Say something, dammit!" But he doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean to yell so harshly at her. He isn't usually like this, what is going on?

When in reality, the answer to his question is right there in his arms; your frail figure lying in his embrace is just a fact waiting to be acknowledged, but he doesn't want to accept it.

Do you expect him to just accept it like that so easily? You know he can't do that, he just can't.

"There is still hope, there is still hope," Itto chants to himself, but even a fool would know those words are nothing more than empty reassurance.

The so-called strongest Oni in Inazuma is so out of it Shinobu can't even gather the courage to point out the truth.

What will become of her boss if she tells him that you are no longer breathing?

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

© seelestia, july 2022. do not repost, plagiarize, translate nor claim as your own.

here’s a preview of the model cyno x fashion designer reader fic i’m currently writing (it was @valeriesteashop ‘s lovely idea!!)

the wc is currently 10.5k (yes a longggg standalone fic..) and i’ve still got a couple small bits left to write but expect this sometime soon! these are a few extracts/scenes from the fic, you might have seen some of these from the rbs on valerie’s post (this is taking forever but bear with me 😭).

p.s i am so sorry if you’ve seen this before this is a repost, i’ve had problems with my previous side blogs being hidden and i have no idea why lol common tumblr problems ig. hoping this will actually stay up😭

cw for mild mild suggestiveness after the second // ?? it’s barely there but just in case

waking up at first light was habitual to him, as were the gentle, firm kisses he pressed to your back of your shoulders and the crook of your neck, his mouth meeting your skin with the tenderness of someone who wished to wake their sleeping lover kindly, delicately, and gently, with fragments of his boundless love left with each small parting of his lips against your soft skin. because for you, he would’ve hated to abruptly shatter whatever peaceful state you’d been in as you slept. moments like these felt awfully domestic to him, though a small part of him, as young and unconcerned with lovey-dovey familial matters as he was, was grateful that in you there was a home for him. his lips curved into a smile as you’d been roused from your sleep, but you buried your face back into your pillows as you hummed, exasperated by the early start to the day he’d been trying to get you up to.

//

thick skin was needed for both designers and models alike, with the former being criticized for a lack or an abundance in creativity, for harsh critics would find flaws in any and everything regardless of how passionate a designer was in their work. and for the latter, their looks would be the focal point and many models had succumbed to the insecurities created by cruel words, leaving the industry to pursue work that would hopefully be kinder to them. even cyno couldn’t say he’d never felt the same way they did. it was a difficult profession you worked in, and he admired your creativity and desire to express, even though you withstood the blunt remarks and unkind feedback. you had a passion, one that burned and fueled your desire to have your art in the world, for it to be appreciated, recognized, coveted, yet it was contradictory to the fact that you didn’t wish to make your devotion into a business.

//

when he looks back around the time when he first met you, and everything that had transpired as a result of the tentative smile he’d given you. he knew that when you made your first advance, it had just been a fleeting moment of your curiosity getting the better of you, and that you had no particular reason for why you started what occurred that day. he thought that for certain, he had fallen harder and had also been the one to fall first. at first, the idea of it was just about ridiculous to him, leaving him frustrated and questioning what possibly could’ve compelled him to feel this way. it was only something simple and meaningless to you. you were just testing the waters, dipping your foot in experimentally and at the time he couldn’t help it, he all but fell in. probably with a tremendous splash too, metaphorically.

he still remembers the first time you touched him with surprising clarity. he’d been alone with you in the little studio where you worked, draping various fabrics across his chest, gauging which color would best fit his bronze skin. the golden light of the lamp in the corner lit a shadow across the room, illuminating your relaxed expression and the easy smile you gave him. he had you in close proximity to him, wanting to reach out and hold you to him, but never doing so in fear of overstepping your boundaries and the myriad of thoughts you had been puzzling out intently. then you trailed a finger across his skin, dragging along the defined planes of his face, admiring him as though he was so unimaginably beautiful that you could not take your eyes off him. and to you, that he was, your eyes never leaving his until you shifted your hand to cup his jaw, leaning in to brush your lips against his as eyelids fluttered shut and gentle exhales resounded in the little space between you. you were daring, with the way you kissed him again, parting your lips ever so slightly, an invitation to him. that which he gladly took, and he kissed you deeply that night in the dim light of your studio. he burned with longing, felt it as clear as day even with you right in front of him, and held you closer and closer to him, his body warm and flush against yours.

//

and he thought he would’ve reminisced over past teenage romances with you the whole night, if he could’ve.

“were you madly in love then?”

you grinned mischievously, before turning on your side to watch his expression. “yeah. i was.”

he smiled, reaching up to pinch your nose as you faked an exaggerated frown. “bullshit. you’re just trying to make me jealous.”

you cracked up as you flopped back onto the grass and laid down with a sigh. “you know, i wish it’d been you.”

“me?”

“yeah. i wish i’d met you before, all those years ago.”

“me too. it should’ve been you.”

you smiled, and simply rested your head on his shoulder. he reciprocated, leaning against you and feeling at peace with the silent joy that accompanied the fuzzy warmth he felt in his rapidly beating heart.

A dream unrealised

Summary: Alhaitham always imagined a future with you in it. Word Count: 0.3k Warnings: major character death, angst, female reader, pregnancy A/N: I dunno why it is that whenever i get stressed and my heart does the badum-badumps i like writing angst :<< Here's a little drabble based off a thought I had a few weeks ago about the after hours couple. Can be read as a standalone. To clarify that this is NOT a continuation of after hours! It's just an au of that couple! Don't worry they are safe they are happy this is just a what if

Alhaitham was not one for baseless dreams, but when it's confirmed that you're pregnant, he dreams. He imagines countless beautiful scenarios he could build, a million or more memories he wanted, and would, share with you.

Alhaitham thinks - and feels - many things. When he sees the home that you and he have made, his chest warms with pride and adoration. This is where you'd spend the rest of your life with him. This is where he'd devote his entirety to you.

Building a family here is not half bad, if he might say so himself. His mind conjures images of you and him and a bundle of joy in the nursery he built. He imagines future nights spent pacifying a fussy baby, the countless diaper changes, the disrupted sleep; but there's no dread that settles deep in his bones, only anticipation. Navigating a new world is worth it because it's with you.

Early on, he already imagines early mornings with a tot attached to his hip, helping him make pancakes to surprise you in bed. In the springs to come, the tiny hand of his tot would hold onto a similarly sized stalk of flowers as they toddle next to him, on their way to surprise you at work. His mornings will be spent preparing them for school with you, bumbling around as he tries his best to get his child's pigtails right. Nights will be accompanied by the vast stories he's accumulated since birth, all while tucking his child in, with you.

You, you, you.

You had his heart in your palms, his mind wrapped around your finger. You consume his thoughts. You were his everything.

Alhaitham is a capable man scholar husband father who thinks of every possible outcome before it happens.

He just didn't think he'd be sixteen all over again, sitting in the cold living room with papers for funeral preparations sprawled across the table.

a/n: i had no idea how to name this it got SO long like?? i swear originally it was just like 6 lines in total i wasnt even going to tag it under the main tag... then i got carried away LMAO ok enjoy! i will go back to my assignments now

Extra:

His newborn cries in nursery. Alhaitham rises to his feet.

As he picks up his crying daughter, it seems like she, too, grieves for a touch that neither of them could ever experience again. The weight of the world is heavy on his shoulders.

a/n: ok im gone fr now byebye i study

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