Genshin Impact Headcannons - Tumblr Posts
“friends don’t kiss each other like this.”
or: the things they’d say to you in return.
character/s: xiao, scaramouche, kazuha, ayato, childe, diluc, thoma, albedo
“then maybe we shouldn’t just be friends.” XIAO mumbles dazedly between your kiss, fingers tracing your jawline as he absently admires the soft luster of his saliva on your lips. he watches as you shyly lean in for another passionate kiss, and he can’t help the sly curve that threatens to contort across his lips when he pulls you in to willingly oblige.
“who said i wanted to be your friend?” SCARAMOUCHE sneers — triumphant in pinning your body to the wall to keep you from running away, yet equally mirroring the blatant crimson shade pouring across your face. he sneaks a hungry glance at your lips but doesn’t remember meeting them, until your timid initiation of a plush sensation vividly comes back to both his memory and reality again.
“‘m sorry, love. i don’t think i can do it anymore.” KAZUHA smiles in defeat, yearning quietly as he stares transfixed by your lips, enchanted by the feeling of your mouth against his. he hopes it’s okay with you that he’s finally expressed his stubbornly pent-up feelings for you — he hopes deep down you’ll kiss him once again long before he forgets the exhilarating feeling of it. and when you bashfully move closer to capture his mouth in another soft kiss, he wonders if you had somehow heard him begging you to put your lips on his aloud.
“archons, please don’t remind me about that.” ALBEDO murmurs in a low and annoyed breath, pulling you back into his lips to steal several more heated kisses. he hadn’t planned on what to do if you would have pushed him away out of disdain, but the fact that he feels you carefully melt in his arms and your fingers run through the tousled mess of his blonde hair, makes him softly smile and wonder if you had been waiting for this singularly beautiful kiss as long as he has.
“so you’re saying that…if i called you mine, you would let me kiss you again.” AYATO hums aloud in contemplation, giving you a side-glance of confirmation. his heart soars when you hurriedly look away with a bashful expression, and he cups your cheeks for a second time, now with the faithful promise and intent of making you truly his, for perhaps eternity if you had allowed him, and even longer then.
“great. i always thought that we could do better.” CHILDE smirks nonchalantly, pressing a soft kiss against your jawline when he sees your cheeks instantaneously erupt in burning red. he’s been making discreet advances after all these long years, and eventually rendered you a complete and utter idiot when you had simply brushed it off as a courteous gesture from a friend. he knows kissing you will finally thrust his perseverant intention in your mind — and he figures by the flustered look on your face, you don’t seem to mind being on the receiving end for a handful more moments of his lips against yours.
“i wasn’t kissing you as a friend…” THOMA awkwardly clears his throat, feeling the heat of embarrassment rise to his ears. it had taken him weeks, or even months, to finally set his mind on the bold gesture of kissing you and asking you out. he had prayed to the gods that there was a possibility you wouldn’t reject him after everything you’ve made him feel, but that singular string of hope began to dissipate farther into the deep abyss. and he only manages to grab ahold of that long-drifting fantasy, when you’ve eventually brought him back to reality, by grabbing his shirt in hopes of meeting his lips for a second time, and maybe someday, a thousand more times.
“that’s fine, i wasn’t planning on staying as one for any longer.” DILUC whispers hotly against your lips, dizzy by the unfamiliar yet addicting sensation of the kiss. he knows he should probably distance himself from the close proximity, because if you keep clutching so tightly onto his coat for any longer, he might just take his chances and make the mistake of kissing you again. but you stay stubborn in your position despite looking hazy and flushed, and this time when he latches his mouth against yours, he doesn’t bother to care about any more regrets later on.
trouble in paradise?
in which you and your rival co-actor were partnered up for your chemistry on-screen…and now that you’ve realized it, it’s proven to become more of a challenge not to fall for each other. (or : short dialogues shared)
character/s: albedo, ayato, childe, kazuha, scaramouche, xiao
a/n: hehe hi @sohyuki
childe.
getting interviewed about dating rumors,
“is it true that the both of you really aren’t together?”
it takes every fiber in you to not choke or spit out the water in your mouth, as you (shakily) set down the previously offered water bottle with a hasty and composed smile. “again, neither of us are interested in dating each other. we do admit that we have an…amiable relationship as co-actors, but definitely nothing more or less than that.”
yeah right, you can feel your inner voice openly chide as your eyes flit towards childe’s in masked panic. however, all you witness from your co-actor is his irritatingly polite smile, and a seemingly unfazed demeanor despite the intrusive and bothersome question.
“i don’t know, i think we look pretty good together.” he grins in a boyish manner, his slender fingers somehow finding its way to tease a lock of your hair within his grasp. you can feel a blush creep upon your cheeks at the unexpected remark, and you fight the urge to cuss him out in the middle of national television. not when your interviewer was clearly gushing at the sight of you two, and the glint of mischief in his ocean blue eyes almost dare to taunt you in his twisted idea of a challenge.
“it’s a shame,” you seethe through gritted teeth and a forced smile, discreetly unlacing his fingers from your freshly styled bed of hair. “that we’re just friends who aren’t attracted to each other.”
“says who?” you hear him pipe jokingly from beside you, and you swear your head whips back to him faster than lightning, a bewildered look evident in your eyes. “for all we know, i could have been secretly in love with you for the last few months.”
“ha ha, really funny.” you swallow the words as his fingers casually bump against yours, the warm sensation of it rendered as something foreign in your brain. it takes a moment to also register that his face was now inches from yours, a playful smirk on his face as he revels in the sight of your disbelief.
“funny, huh? care to find out whether it’s true, then?”
your tomato-hued face was the one thing childe took pride in, before the director giddily shouted ‘cut!’, and the interview was finally over.
the next day, your names were in bold headlines — and to much of your evident disappointment, even more rumors of the both of you “dating” were scattered all over the gushing press and intrigued audience.
xiao.
photographing for a magazine cover,
“how much longer do you have to touch me?”
“you think i appreciate this any more than you do?” he sneers, amber irises recoiling quickly in disgust at the sight of you. “stop moving and let’s get this over with.”
“that’s great, you two look perfect!” the photographer praises in evident enthusiasm from behind. “could you bring the lady a little closer to your chest?”
a squeak comes out of you when you feel your co-actor obey the order, much to his utter dismay. “you keep writhing. could you tone that down for a fucking second?”
“well in case you haven’t noticed, i’m not exactly the most comfortable with—!” your words catch in your throat when xiao slyly angles his head down to a patch of skin on your neck. you can hear his breath hitch and your pulse quicken at the little gesture, his seething words suddenly coming out clearer than ever against your flushed complexion.
“neither am i. now you’d better shut up, before i make you.”
“that pose is perfect! adjust your expressions — yes, keep it like that for a bit longer!”
it almost hurts to keep your breathing controlled, but it’s all you can do to calm the thrumming of your heart, as your conflicted eyes meet his indecipherable irises boring straight back into yours.
“…fine. dickwad.”
“incessant bitch.”
scaramouche.
bickering after a kissing scene,
“oi, someone get me some mouthwash.” you hear your co-actor grumble in disgust, while hastily wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
“a mint for me.” you scoff in return, only rolling your eyes when he turns to you with a death glare that seemed to harbor a shred of disbelief. “what? you taste like shit.”
“yeah, because i kissed shit.”
your scowl deepens at his words, and it takes the director’s exhausted command to split the sparking tension apart between you two. a part of you felt bad, considering this had already become some sort of “normal” routine ever since he scouted the both of you to play the main roles in a romantic film. but could he blame the both of you for getting pissed off after having to repeat that damned kissing scene for several takes?
“the good news is,” the director inhales a hefty breath. “that’s the last kissing scene you have to do together.”
“well, i wouldn’t intend to kiss her ever again.” scaramouche snorts. “she’s one hell of a shitty kisser.”
“oh like you were any better, dipshit.”
“you really wanna go at it right now?” his eyes flicker over to yours in a fit of darkness.
“what, you’re gonna prove me wrong or something?”
“maybe i will.” he growls in irritation, before violently snatching your wrist and dragging you with him to retreat inside his trailer, as you both quietly bicker amongst yourselves…but nevertheless, strangely don’t seem to be recoiling away from each other at the notion of kissing again.
“but, we have another scene to film in seven minutes—”
“any of you step inside that trailer and i’ll beat your ass up.” he threatens for the last time, a mysterious glint in his eyes as he lazily glances over his shoulder to meet the rest of the production crew’s astonished gazes. “we’ll come out when we’re finished with our business.”
kaedehara kazuha.
walking on the red carpet,
“y/n, over here!”
the flashing of crowded camera lights momentarily blind you with their intense illumination, but you work up a smile for the audience anyway. it’s been thirty minutes since you’ve found yourself posing for the cameras, however now you wanted nothing more than to sit down and tend to the blisters that were beginning to sting at your feet from your heels.
you take a few steps toward the venue, ever so slightly swaying in your stance as you grit your teeth and endure the sudden bursts of pain. if you could just walk a bit quicker to reach the confines of the marbled threshold that awaits…
but the deafening shout of the final group of photographers snap you out from your daze, glancing over your shoulder as they excitedly beckon you over to take the last batch of photos before entering inside.
you shift in your steps…albeit a little too hurriedly, as your feet begin to wobble and you feel yourself about to fall down —
only to be (unwillingly) caught by none other than your unfazed co-actor. his hands slip around your waist to securely straighten your body, and you can’t help but gape in astonishment at the uncharacteristic yet gentlemanly gesture.
“love, you look like an idiot staring at me.”
your eyebrows furrow at the slightly rude comment, annoyed at how his averted eyes never seem to meet yours. “i think i had it under control.” you mutter beneath your breath, forcing a smile for the cameras and gushing photographers, as his thumb lazily traces circles on your waist in a form of reassurance.
“you can bicker all you want later, when we reach the entrance.” he smirks in amusement, before nonchalantly resting his head on your shoulder to pose differently for the pictures, his intrusive breath tickling your ears. “just smile and look pretty, love. like always.”
it’s frustrating to fight the blush that settles on your cheeks as he puts on a facade and eventually guides you inside with that fucking knowing grin.
albedo.
attending a costume fitting,
“stand still.” you hear him mutter in a low breath, as he wraps the measuring tape around the curve of your waist.
you let out a dry scoff. “who let you do this?”
“it’s not that difficult of a task,” albedo replies, peering down at the red number on the white band. “so i offered to help out.”
“well make it quick,” you clear your throat, cocking your head to the side in attempts to hide the flush on your cheeks. “it’s been fifteen minutes. i’m starving.”
“are you?” he hums, never raising his teal irises to meet yours in turn. “or are you just scared?”
you frown at the boy. “why would i be scared?”
albedo tugs lightly on the measuring tape around your body, causing you to tumble forward and closer to his face. your eyes jolt wide open at the close proximity, and the forbidden thumping in your heart grows worse at the clearer sight of him.
“a-albedo?” you blurt out, shifting your eyes somewhere else to avoid his piercing gaze. “what the hell are you doing?” you peek over his shoulder at the wide open door. “what if someone sees us?”
a corner of his lip tugs upward in an attractive manner. “ah, is that why?” followed by a teasing chuckle. “you’re scared i might do something to you.”
“jeez, i’m not afraid—” you bite your tongue hastily in aggression, when he suddenly tilts his head to inch closer towards your lips.
“it’s in your eyes right now,” he remarks in a low voice, noting the way your breath remains caught in your throat. “you’re scared i’ll end up kissing you.”
you swallow thickly in the haze of his pervading cologne, unable to say anything to refute his words. because yeah, maybe he was right. maybe you were scared about the centimeter distance. maybe you were scared that your rival co-actor might press his soft mouth against yours without acting. maybe you were scared about what that would mean in your career and competitive relationship.
bringing your hands down to his, you pry his grasp off the tape around your waist. “well, you got what you needed. i’m leaving.”
as you hurriedly make your way towards the exit of the room, albedo stays behind to fill out the last measurement required on the sheet of paper, before eventually allowing a begrudging sigh to escape from between his pressed lips.
“ah…for a second, i almost wanted to kiss her.”
ayato.
helping with your make-up,
“why does he have to do this again?” you groan in your seat, jutting out a finger at the boy setting down another cosmetic near a station organized by the wide mirror.
“‘cause i know how to do it well.” ayato smiles, but there’s something close to a mischievous intent masked behind blue-grey irises.
you glare over at the director, who ended up shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “just a few more minutes and it’s over. you’re getting paid to put up with him anyway.”
“god knows i wish i wasn’t,” you scoff, about to bury your face in your hands, before suddenly remembering you were already caked with make-up.
“one last touch,” you hear him hum, watching as he swipes his finger across a light pink tint before reluctantly bringing his hand closer to your face.
you can’t even protest as he brushes the pigment softly against the plush of your lips, the rest of his fingers cupping your cheek in a gentle manner. ayato strokes the shade once, twice, and perhaps once more for an extra measure — before suddenly pausing in his movements.
you wonder what he’s busy gawking at, and then it belatedly hits you — he’s staring at your mouth.
“ahem,” you aggressively clear your throat, snapping him out of his temporary daze.
“ah, it’s done.” ayato instantly comments, and it irks you to see how he doesn’t even seem bothered that you had clearly caught him admiring your lips back there.
“weirdo.” you grumble, pushing yourself off the seat to scrutinize the boy’s finished work in the mirror. “hm, i suppose it’s…not bad.”
your hesitant comment causes his eyes to shift from the cosmetics, towards the sight of your reflection in the mirror.
“well, would you look at that,” he grins cockily, ignoring the way his heart subconsciously races a tad too quickly at the pleasant view of you.
“i finally made you pretty.”
10 things i hate about you.
character/s: albedo, childe, diluc, itto, kazuha, gorou, scaramouche, thoma, xiao
a/n: because this bitch is back after watching that fucking adorable movie :””)
albedo: i hate the way you talk to me.
if there was one aspect you learned to despise the most about the teal-eyed boy, it was always how you hated the way he talked to you — how he never failed to present himself with such irrefutable dignity and intelligence…that it almost felt like he was somehow belittling you with his every word and damning existence.
you’re quite certain the boy means no harm, that it was useless to complain as he was simply built in such a distinguished manner. still, he talks to you with that characteristically advanced vocabulary of his, and as much as you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t help but feel…oddly attracted to it.
and you hated it because it made you feel so inferior towards the blonde. hated it because the longer you forced yourself to listen, the more you grew to pinpoint even the littlest of intricacies woven into the sound of his baritone voice. hated it because you had eventually reached a stage where his midnight rambles of chemistry buzzing through the phone, was always the last thing you routinely heard before dozing off to a peaceful sleep.
or maybe…it wasn’t exactly that. maybe deep down, you just hated the stupid fact when you realized he was too out of your league to dare possess such romantic and transient emotions for.
ayato: i hate the way you cut your hair.
the most memorable piece you took with you of the little boy from the seemingly distant past, were his long and silky strands of hair. you remembered the way it glimmered beneath filtered rays of sunlight, how they fluttered within the breeze and melted between your fingertips, how you used to spend your leisure time learning to braid them in an admittedly unkempt fashion (nevertheless, he always told you he loved the way you did his hair).
alas, long gone were the distant memories and lengthy strands of the past — instantly replaced by an unfamiliar mop of trimmed and tousled blue nestled atop the boy’s head. albeit most would agree that your childhood friend looked quite pleasant with a shorter cut, it wasn’t difficult for you to decide that you hated the way he cut his hair. on the contrary, you thought it was rather ill fitting on him, and how you wished he had at least bothered to give you a heads up before mercilessly chopping the rest of his lovely locks of hair off.
but most of all, you hated that you couldn’t braid it anymore — how the sloppily trimmed strands fell uneven between your fingers as you attempted to gather them in a more convenient and neater updo, the reverberation of his laughter echoing through your ears despite the evident sulking across your face. how could the boy manage to find any of these dire circumstances amusing?
you hate the way you cut his hair — that is what you ultimately admit with a serious tone to him as he takes your hands into the warmth of his, that is what you tell yourself as his thumbs rub comforting circles around your palms and he does that awful damned smile that always sends your heart in that silly little frenzy you’ve begrudgingly grown accustomed to every time you’ve witnessed it…and that is what you’ll eventually forget as he promises you he’ll grow it out soon enough, while you quietly wonder to yourself if he’d ever dare to show you that odd yet familiar smile once more.
itto: i hate it when you drive my car.
whenever you felt sick or the weather was simply too dreadful for you to drive around in, you had prepared a carefully selected list of persons you were certain you could trust with your entire life to bring you home safely. typically, you’d like to think that at least one of these people would be free during situations when you needed them, and around 88% of the time, they truly were there. and well, you might ask…who is then left to drive you home when no one is there to come around for you?
introducing the 12% is arataki itto — a person you’d really like to say you’d trust your life with, in the (unfortunate) circumstances wherein you were in a car and he was fulfilling the courteous duty of taking you home safely…if it wasn’t for the fact that he was perhaps, too risky of a driver to be even driving out and about on the streets.
to say you hated the way he drove your car was a rather generous understatement…you hated and feared the 10% of the times you swore you could witness your life flash before your eyes whenever he was tasked with the damning privilege of occupying the driver’s seat — hearing his boisterous laughter blow through the gusts of the occasional wind, whereas your screams of terror are securely muffled behind the backpack you tightly press against your horrified face.
and yet, despite that fearful probability of 10% in your experiences of driving with him (and although you know the man should be considered a public health hazard by now)…you’ll call him anyway — because sometimes, in the lucky chances you’ll find yourself in within 2% of times, you’re certain to winning the handful minutes of your life spent with the amiable boy, and perhaps even the sliver of chances with your own shot at romance.
(well, that is…if he doesn’t try to kill the both of you with his horrid driving first.)
kaedehara kazuha: i hate it when you stare.
kaedehara kazuha was not like everyone said he was. the boy was awfully annoying, contrary to what you swore the people had all claimed. he’s a reserved one and doesn’t bother anyone much, they say, and yet those stupidly gorgeous ruby irises are always somehow plastered on you.
you hate him when he stares — when your eyes wander the room to find his falling into yours. it sends a tickle of electricity up your spine, gives you shivers under his unwavering and curious gaze, makes your heart feel weirdly mushy when he sends you a wordless smile despite the fact that you were the one who caught him guilty. that although he’s the one who’s supposed to feel embarrassed, you’re the person who feels it in the light flush crawling up your cheeks instead.
you don’t even personally know much about the boy, other than the fact that he stares (and smiles) an impressive damn lot at you. you’ve also never intended to fuel the desire to muster up the courage in walking across the room, to chide him for his stolen looks and the nice little smile you’ve never seen the taciturn boy give anyone…
and yet, on one typically sunny morning, when his feet shuffle from a corner to tread a path towards yours, you can feel the pits in your stomach erupt in a fit of butterflies, a pensive expression across your face when he pauses in front of you with a familiar upturn of his lips, and those intrusive ruby irises that you began to find yourself slowly drowning in.
gorou: i hate the way you read my mind.
he’s so mindful of you — too caring and sensitive that sometimes, it almost successfully manages to drive you crazy. how did he always know what to do and say to you, during the right times? it was absolute and unbelievable sorcery, you swore to yourself one day.
he knows you like he knows the back of his palm. he remembers that you enjoy a pint of vanilla ice cream and milk whenever you’re frustrated. he sees that you fiddle with your hair between your fingers when you’re feeling nervous. he notices that your tongue slightly sticks out between your lips when you’re concentrating. he witnesses a lot, and has grown awfully familiar to these trivial habits.
it’s unbelievably distressing — how you hated the way he reads your mind. how at some point, he seemed to understand you better than you did yourself. how it’s so easy for him to just know you.
unbeknownst to you, however, he tried very hard to familiarize himself with you and your little (adorable) quirks. he’s making a diligent effort to give himself some status in your life, to matter to you the way you mattered too much to him. oh, if only you’d bother to recognize the affectionate intention behind these genuine actions, and perhaps spare the nice boy an equal chance for a place in your heart…
diluc: i hate how you’re always right.
civilized arguments between you and your red-haired neighbor are…almost never inevitable. you both tended to disagree with your varying opinions on a lot of matters, whether public or private ones. you wanted to go drinking at midnight? certainly not, he didn’t need your drunk ass fumbling with the keys he handed you to his house (for whenever you need me, he insisted while closing your palm that clasped the metal belonging), and you stumbling inside the humble premises only to throw up over his freshly pressed clothes. (it was one time! —you exclaimed in embarrassment with flushed cheeks.) you wanted to head in for work despite clearly having a fever? he’d practically lock you and him inside your house, busying himself with cooking you a nice and piping hot porridge when he’s finished (forcefully) sending you to sleep.
it was annoying, honestly. how overprotective could the man get anyway? besides, you were a fully grown adult! you could take great care of yourself without his chiding words paired with irritatingly thoughtful actions.
however, admittedly…he was never wrong with his opinions. although it was frustrating to eventually conform with his arguments at the end of the day, it honestly did you more good than harm. you hated how he was always right, how he seemed to always know and care about what was best for you. why does he seem so invested in looking out for you anyway?
i don’t need you to bother me when you eventually realize that you made a mistake with your choices — he grumbles softly, folding his sturdy arms against his chest. to sum it up, he claims that he only debates with you because not doing so would only cause him a greater inconvenience…he really doesn’t need “concern” to be added on his plate when he’s already troubled himself enough with the damning realization of the feelings he quietly holds for you.
childe: i hate it when you lie.
childe was perhaps known to others as a lot of things — exceedingly rich, overwhelmingly self-conceited, a handsome devil with a charm, they’d say. but if there was one word you would best associate your oh so loving boyfriend with, you would call him a complete bastard of a liar.
you were a bet. a stupid fucking bet made with his dumb jock friends, that would end with you falling in love and him breaking your heart by the end of prom night. and you did — you fell hard and blindly, regardless of how many times you’ve convinced yourself never to do so.
still, here he is, fumbling to grasp your slipping hands as desperation crosses those ocean blue eyes. he says the bet doesn’t matter to him anymore…that at some point, he never cared for the money and only cared for you (bullshit, you sneered with teary eyes while fuming in anger, he knows you hate it when he lies.)
but it hurts to question if what he’s saying is true, or simply another pretty statement that rings well in your ears. what’s worse is that you weren’t sure how, and if you could still trust him…or literally anyone else anymore.
your mistake, you tell yourself — as hurried footsteps carry your quivering frame down the flight of stairs, the sound of his hoarse voice following from not far behind. your mistake, you should have known better than to love anyone like him.
scaramouche: i hate it when you make me laugh (even worse when you make me cry.)
scaramouche was never one for jokes, that was for certain. however, part of you wonders if he willingly chooses to set that little quirk of his aside, if it was purely in an innocent endeavor to watch you smile and hear the sound of your laughter tug on his heart once more.
truth be told, to the average bystander the said ‘jokes’ aren’t even that funny — hell, perhaps they aren’t even considered jokes at all. it was more of an inclusion between the two of you, a little secret kept and stowed away within the muffle of stifled giggles and poorly concealed smiles. yes, you’ll admit it’s an awfully rare sight to see him smiling along with you — and trust me, he will deny it like his life depends on it, because perhaps for him it really does — but it’s there alright…you just need to know when to look, and pray you’ll get lucky enough to stumble across the minute chances of catching him with a small smile.
and sure, you hate the way he makes you laugh, but you hate it worse when he makes you cry — a repulsing sensation of thick fat droplets of liquid skidding down your flushed cheeks when he screams in a fit of annoyance and frustration at you, a burden weighing down the heaviness in your heart later as you lull yourself to sleep on a restless night…an indecipherable feeling when he pulls you deep and securely into his chest the next morning, his indigo irises shut tight in regret as his lips quiver with the quietest of awkward (yet sincere) apologies.
scaramouche does not love anyone, that is what they all say…but you are slowly beginning to wonder if you still fit into that generalized criteria of persons at all.
thoma: i hate that you didn’t even call.
after the unnecessarily torturous break-up with the green-eyed boy, you’ve done nothing but curl up beneath the blanket settled on your bed and sob until your eyes turned red and puffy. in fact, the most productive thing you’ve done all day was trudge heavy steps to stash food in the crook of your arm from the fridge, before slowly heading back up to fall onto your mattress and lay within the four white confines of your room.
it was a weighty feeling of sadness that sunk itself into the crevices of your heart, one that left you disgusted and clearly heartbroken over the intense effect your ex lover had on you. you wonder if he’s also found himself curled up in the corner of his own mattress, contemplative and thinking of you with a similarly empty sensation.
the futon feels hard and cold beneath the weight of your body…lonely was perhaps the best word to describe the ugly sensation. you felt lonely in bed, knowing the usually warm space next to yours carried nothing but a gnawing bitterness in the empty spaces of your heart. lonely because the boy you once kept within your arms was no longer in the vicinity of your reach. you were lonely, and you hated him more for it because he didn’t even call.
and despite the fact that you know your phone will never hum that soft vibration with his name flashing on your screen again — no matter how long it takes for him to painstakingly dial your number, or for you to finally pluck up the courage to pick up his (long-awaited) call…you and him both know you’ll always be here at the end of the line, forever waiting.
xiao: i hate that i don’t hate you (not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.)
it starts as a small (and random) question in your thoughts — how would it feel if he loved someone? if for once in his life, he was capable of giving up on the cold act to pursue a warmer disposition towards everyone else, how differently then, would he behave? and perhaps you should have given up on the thought during its early stages, because the more you asked yourself in curiosity, the greater the inquiry plagued every single corner of your unbridled mind. how would love to him and his eventual partner feel like?
and then (worst of all), you begin to wonder how it would feel if he loved you. if lurking behind those sharp golden amber irises, there could be a warm sensation clouding them whenever he looks over at you. if he acted better as a roommate instead of typically ignoring your presence. if he wasn’t so uptight and aloof. if he was kinder. if he would smile a lot more.
the question always haunts you, like a disgusting itch in the back of your mind — as your eyes flicker to coincidentally meet his, as your hands softly brush together when walking past the cramped kitchen, as the world begins to spin when you catch him with an absent turn of the corner of his lips upward while reading a book in his possession.
slowly, it begins to hurt the more you think about it. that you know he doesn’t really love you and you’re simply getting your hopes up with delusional situations. that it’s almost impossible for him to actually love someone like you. that he will always hate you, and you will forever chastise yourself after finally discovering that even after all this time, you hate that you don’t hate him — not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.
Hi :) since you said requests might take longer feel free to take your time with this!!
Can you write something with Childe with a teen!brother!reader (obviously platonic) who’s more on the ‘rebel’ side? ‘Rebel’ as in he always tries to pull dangerous stuff and never really seem to care about the scars or how much trouble he gets in?
I usually see platonic stuff of Childe with a more shy reader, so I think this could be a nice twist :D thank you!!!!
Rowdy and Rebelious | Platonic Childe headcannons x Rebel Teen brother reader
Characters: Childe
Summary: As much as a rebel you are, your brother will forever worry about you
Warnings: Just pure fluff
ʚ⁺˖↪ You were the more of the rebelious child in your family, and your mother would constantly worry about you. Your older siblings would also worry but became easily annoyed with your shenanigans. Your younger siblings thought of you sort of like a superhero!
ʚ⁺˖↪ The one you would mess with the most though is your older brother Tartaglia, or better known as Childe. The time you went with Teucer to find him was surely something to say the least. He was glad that Teucer came with someone sort of capable of protecting him, but also worried about your safety.
ʚ⁺˖↪ You sometimes visit him on his travels on your own, and you always greet him with a bruise or some sort of injury. It scares him so much, and looks like he's about to murder someone.
ʚ⁺˖↪ Scolds you so much when he is bandaging you up or putting ice on a bruise. If it's a more serious injury, then he will make you stay in one place, so you can heal.
ʚ⁺˖↪ When exploring with you, he literally has to hold you back. Like, he has to hold you down with a hug, so you don't fight some random people. You're just flailing in his arms. He uses this as an excuse to say you're not ready for exploring.
"If you manage to get out, then I'll let you explore with me."
ʚ⁺˖↪ This is now a challenge to you and you try so many times. You fail though, and it leaves Childe smugly laughing while saying 'I told you so' or something along those lines.
ʚ⁺˖↪ Tries to set rules with you, like don't get into a serious battle without him there, don't steal his weapon, and don't pick fights with the fatui. But you, being rebellious, you do not listen. In fact, you do all three at the same time… On multiple occasions.
ʚ⁺˖↪ He had to bail you out of almost dying a few times during those times. He just picks you up, sets you off to the side and finishes your fight.
ʚ⁺˖↪ When he does catch you being a chaotic little gremlin, Childe will just watch until he knows you can't handle it. Once he sees you either losing or getting really fucked up, he steps in and gets you out in a second.
ʚ⁺˖↪ It's another competition you two have. It's to see how fast Childe needs to get involved and how long you last before he needs to get involved.
ʚ⁺˖↪ It's a tie right now, with 77 on both sides. It's kind of astonishing to be honest. And you both make sure to keep track of the score, with slight alterations to the score.
"Last time I checked, little bro, I had 78."
"No, you dumbass, I had 78!"
ʚ⁺˖↪ You both insult each other so much, it's kind of funny. The insults get worse and make less sense as time goes on.
ʚ⁺˖↪ Childe also likes to fake being hurt by your insults. You call him out on his bullshit, though, especially when he does it in front of people that he knows.
ʚ⁺˖↪ Does a full dramatic pose and pretends to faint. You just catch him and roll your eyes as you just throw insult after insult at him.
"Oh, you wound me, my dearest brother!"
"Oh come on, I know you're just being stupid"
ʚ⁺˖↪ You do care about Childe though, like immensely. That's sort of why you're so rebellious. You're trying to prove to him that he doesn't need to worry about you and that you're capable of being able to care for yourself and him.
ʚ⁺˖↪ If Childe does get wounded in a battle, then you take over until the threat is gone. You rush over to his side and bandage him up. You both sort of tease each other about it, but you do it more so because you're anxious.
ʚ⁺˖↪ Childe does and has learned self-control, just so you can see that you don't have to fight all the time or be intimidating. He genuinely tries to be a good role model to you, and he tries to teach you as best he can.
ʚ⁺˖↪ You just call him stupid, though, but you understand what he's trying to do. You appreciate him for that, and sometimes you get Childe a gift of some sort to show your gratitude.
ʚ⁺˖↪ If you two are playing games, the both of you are cheating. And once one of you realize the other is cheating, it becomes a rough housing play fight.
"You cheated! Now you have to pay!"
"You cheated too! Why do I have to pay if you're not going to, you hypocrite!"
ʚ⁺˖↪ When you leave after traveling to visit him, he gives you an hour-long lecture on what not to do and what to do. He also demands that you write him as soon as you can. Of course, you don't do any of these things, except you do write him a letter.
ʚ⁺˖↪ You're just the rebellious gremlin of the family and occasionally give Childe many near heart attack moments with how often you feel the urge to be violent and take on Celestia
Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!
“friends don’t kiss each other like this.”
or: the things they’d say to you in return.
character/s: xiao, scaramouche, kazuha, ayato, childe, diluc, thoma, albedo
“then maybe we shouldn’t just be friends.” XIAO mumbles dazedly between your kiss, fingers tracing your jawline as he absently admires the soft luster of his saliva on your lips. he watches as you shyly lean in for another passionate kiss, and he can’t help the sly curve that threatens to contort across his lips when he pulls you in to willingly oblige.
“who said i wanted to be your friend?” SCARAMOUCHE sneers — triumphant in pinning your body to the wall to keep you from running away, yet equally mirroring the blatant crimson shade pouring across your face. he sneaks a hungry glance at your lips but doesn’t remember meeting them, until your timid initiation of a plush sensation vividly comes back to both his memory and reality again.
“‘m sorry, love. i don’t think i can do it anymore.” KAZUHA smiles in defeat, yearning quietly as he stares transfixed by your lips, enchanted by the feeling of your mouth against his. he hopes it’s okay with you that he’s finally expressed his stubbornly pent-up feelings for you — he hopes deep down you’ll kiss him once again long before he forgets the exhilarating feeling of it. and when you bashfully move closer to capture his mouth in another soft kiss, he wonders if you had somehow heard him begging you to put your lips on his aloud.
“archons, please don’t remind me about that.” ALBEDO murmurs in a low and annoyed breath, pulling you back into his lips to steal several more heated kisses. he hadn’t planned on what to do if you would have pushed him away out of disdain, but the fact that he feels you carefully melt in his arms and your fingers run through the tousled mess of his blonde hair, makes him softly smile and wonder if you had been waiting for this singularly beautiful kiss as long as he has.
“so you’re saying that…if i called you mine, you would let me kiss you again.” AYATO hums aloud in contemplation, giving you a side-glance of confirmation. his heart soars when you hurriedly look away with a bashful expression, and he cups your cheeks for a second time, now with the faithful promise and intent of making you truly his, for perhaps eternity if you had allowed him, and even longer then.
“great. i always thought that we could do better.” CHILDE smirks nonchalantly, pressing a soft kiss against your jawline when he sees your cheeks instantaneously erupt in burning red. he’s been making discreet advances after all these long years, and eventually rendered you a complete and utter idiot when you had simply brushed it off as a courteous gesture from a friend. he knows kissing you will finally thrust his perseverant intention in your mind — and he figures by the flustered look on your face, you don’t seem to mind being on the receiving end for a handful more moments of his lips against yours.
“i wasn’t kissing you as a friend…” THOMA awkwardly clears his throat, feeling the heat of embarrassment rise to his ears. it had taken him weeks, or even months, to finally set his mind on the bold gesture of kissing you and asking you out. he had prayed to the gods that there was a possibility you wouldn’t reject him after everything you’ve made him feel, but that singular string of hope began to dissipate farther into the deep abyss. and he only manages to grab ahold of that long-drifting fantasy, when you’ve eventually brought him back to reality, by grabbing his shirt in hopes of meeting his lips for a second time, and maybe someday, a thousand more times.
“that’s fine, i wasn’t planning on staying as one for any longer.” DILUC whispers hotly against your lips, dizzy by the unfamiliar yet addicting sensation of the kiss. he knows he should probably distance himself from the close proximity, because if you keep clutching so tightly onto his coat for any longer, he might just take his chances and make the mistake of kissing you again. but you stay stubborn in your position despite looking hazy and flushed, and this time when he latches his mouth against yours, he doesn’t bother to care about any more regrets later on.
i like him, not you!
synopsis: in which you’ve finally mustered up the courage to express a bashful confession to your best friend and six-year crush…only to accidentally dispatch your heartfelt message to the wrong person.
character/s: albedo, ayato, childe, kazuha, xiao, scaramouche, thoma
a/n: @sohyuki ilysm have a wonderful day queen <3
the first thing you do is run away.
in a way, you have always been good at that. scampering from those undivulged words and imminent encounters that instilled fear in you. it spoke to you almost like a natural instinct, left you with a bitter taste on your tongue, tormented you with a sick sensation twisting your stomach.
because of this, you ran from a lot of things. from your parents whenever they frowned upon a low grade on your report card, from a pompous asshole you later mustered the tiniest courage to shove down during fourth grade, from the unwitting attention of sunbeam-amber eyes meeting yours, and from your best friend whom you’ve practically loved for the longest time.
and you decide the last one is something you’ll finally want to quit running away from.
eight little letters and three simple words, yet for six long years they have meant more than the world to you. he has always meant more than the world to you.
so you attempt to construct it all within proper sentences — desperately trying not to jumble up your phrases while trying to provide the impression that you sure as hell hadn’t been shaking tremendously as you wrote it.
but it’s so difficult to even spare a meek glance at it. so annoying that it pesters thrumming vibrations in the depths of your stupid heart. so fucking frustrating that you don’t actually bother looking at it anymore when your fingers hover over the word ‘send’.
you’ve shut your phone off after that singular moment, and stashed it away in a nearby drawer for safekeeping. and for the entire weekend, you convince yourself that you didn’t really care anymore. six years didn’t matter because you weren’t expecting an answer. just an outlet for these emotions and a burden lifted off your weighted shoulders.
and for the first time in a long while, you acknowledge how liberating it feels to not want to run.
Y/N’S CONTACTS.
him <3 (kaedehara kazuha)
✉ 4:47 am, april 4th (mon).
[ 1 new message! ] : psst. arcade after class today? :)
ah, but who would be an idiot not to fall for him?
you’ve guessed he’s received so many incessant compliments and heartfelt confessions, that despite how frustratingly courteous he was — could never actually bother wasting his time sorting through each and every one of them.
so you figure that you’re in the clear, and he won’t have to burden himself with formulating a sharp answer.
or at least, that’s what you reassure yourself when monday comes around and he greets you with an ever-familiar and warm smile.
and is also perhaps why he pretends like nothing has actually happened…
because if that happened to be the case, he was rather good at acting pretty normal. you knew that if you’d ever received such a confession from somebody, you would have been freaking out a lot more — and depending on whether you reciprocated their emotions, either avoiding or confronting them.
but this…was a little too cold of a reaction.
and yet, at the same time, you were thankful he still kept approaching and talking to you as usual. above all, kazuha was your best friend before he was the person you wanted to be romantically involved with. you could never really bear the thought of losing him as a close confidante.
but it hurt like hell because he was always too kind, always too impossible not to love. always with the 1 am calls and his soft voice when you couldn’t fall asleep. always with the weekend home visits to his place so you could share a meal together. always with the sleepovers or out catching a midnight film. always a shoulder to lean on when the tears were too much. always, always there.
you know he’ll never love you the way you knew just exactly how to love him. and that’s okay.
but if looks and words could have honestly fooled, it almost seemed like he was ridiculously unaware that you had even confessed to him in the first place.
everything stayed the same.
and you can’t help but feel sick at the reality, because a part of you wanted to believe that kazuha was in love with you, at least once in his life and perhaps never again. in sleepless turned drowsy midnight calls, in fleeting glances inside the deserted cinema, in homemade meals and warm smiles, in drowning tears and comforting hugs. in the briefest of seconds when he realized you were always there.
but the thing about love is that it’s blinded you enough to not think about the probability that he might just like you. that he may or may not have been avoiding all other confessions because he only hoped for yours. that he may be hesitating every time you two get closer because he thinks you won’t want him back. that at 1 am while you’re whispering softly through the phone about your day, kazuha’s thinking about all the pragmatic reasons not to blurt out mid-conversation that he’s always been madly in love with you.
you know one thing for sure when you dazedly stare at your phone later that day. love has blinded you enough to not think twice about why kazuha might not be acting any differently than you had initially expected. why he’s so infuriatingly unfazed. why he should have been having a more violent reaction instead of making the same silly jokes with you.
and boy, you’re bewildered when you find two chat notifications waiting in your message box. one from kazuha, inviting you to the nearby arcade after class…except for some absurd reason, there’s no record of an embarrassingly heartfelt confession registered in your shared chat history.
the second from a boy you barely knew but always subconsciously noticed in class, sitting rather ominously in your DMs with the strangest of messages. and it’s only when you begrudgingly open your shared chat, that you clearly feel how your heart stops in one horrifying instant.
because sitting there in the most unexpected of places, lies the culmination of six long years building up to a terribly emotional confession.
but…it’s not for the boy you had hoped would receive it.
that guy in class (xiao)
✉ 11:54 pm, april 2nd (sat).
[ 1 new message! ] : who are you?
xiao wishes there was a guidebook for how to handle all probable awkward situations, in the unfortunate circumstance that he’d ever find himself impossibly lodged in the middle of one.
but there’s none that exist to date. and he thinks not even the internet can help him figure out what to respond to a sudden and random heartfelt confession sitting peacefully in his message inbox.
he hasn’t exactly done anything to be loved or wanted by anyone. and at first, your contact name barely registers anyone he recognizes in his head. so he sends the first question he thinks of as a response, and shuts his phone to close his eyes and rest.
but then sunday morning comes and it clicks. he remembers. he knows who you are. because of that, xiao finds it all absurd.
it wasn’t like he intended to stare at you. he was always prone to dozing off mid-classes, eyes instinctively sweeping across every inch of the classroom, outside the window to greet the blinding light of the morning sun, and then reluctantly retreating back inside…
only to see you. and for you to see him.
so the odd pattern repeats. everyday.
you’d think he have broken out of such a quirky habit of looking. he’d think you’d have stopped meeting his eyes every single time. but you always manage to see each other — and past that, neither of you dare make the effort to talk to one another.
it was some sort of unspoken understanding between you two, momentary peace that isn’t built on a real connection. just that he finds comfort in your eyes, while you’re left breathless at his.
but for you to confess, and oh so suddenly without any particular reason to make you like him.
so he realizes the message presently occupying his DMs (and unconsciously plaguing his thoughts) isn’t truly meant for him.
monday eagerly arrives, and he stares. more often than usual, more often than he’d want to. he wonders if you’ve noticed how you fucked up, because he’s almost certain he knows who your vulnerable confession is intended for.
and it’s late in the afternoon when you shyly pull him aside to talk about it. how embarrassed you were by your clumsy mistake, how deeply you felt apologetic for sending it to him, but most importantly of all —
“i’m really sorry, but i like someone else and not you!”
strange how your first conversation turns out like this. he’s always imagined it would begin very differently. perhaps with you pointing out the fact that he always gazes at you, him asking you in return why you always look back.
and almost on impeccable cue, you suddenly smile and tell him about all the times you recognized him because of how often your eyes met, even though you’ve never talked to each other. you’re sorry for not talking with him sooner.
but xiao thinks nothing is going to change just because you’ve verbally acknowledged each other.
he was sort of wrong. the next time you met glances, you smiled. several more times after you’ve started doing it, he starts to reciprocate with the smallest of smiles too — the kind that makes you feel like its your shared little secret.
and you’ve both changed in certain ways. you talked with each other more often, occupying vacated classrooms during breaks and making a bit more room for each other within your drastically different lives. he even starts to join you during lunch whenever kazuha was too occupied with homework, and lets you drag him along to amusement parks or anime events you presumed kazuha wasn’t too interested in.
but the craziest part about it all was that you admitted to never actually confessing to kazuha after all that’s happened.
perhaps you were left traumatized by your previous opportunity to confess to your best friend. perhaps because of a certain “someone’s” consistent jokes, you were too horrified to ever want to confess to somebody ever again. perhaps you were simply confused about the new boy weaving his way into your life.
one thing’s for sure, xiao feels strangely relieved that you decided not to send the actual message to your crush.
and maybe even a little dirty part of him hopes you’ll eventually forget about confessing to kazuha at the end of it all.
saturday boyfriend (childe)
✉ 9:06 am, april 5th (tues).
[ 1 new message! ] : so you’re the girl who likes xiao?
the thing is, childe could have never actually perceived the day when he’d get a phone call late in the evening from xiao, inquiring about what to say in response to an abrupt confession from a stranger.
his brusque and characteristically quiet best friend — had suddenly gotten some crazy chick to fall for him? with that shitty personality?
oh, the unexpected news gave childe the laughter of a lifetime. and yet, he couldn’t help but feel curious about the idea of it. what kind of interesting person would ever be attracted to someone like that guy? (respectfully, of course.)
fortunately to satiate the whirlwind of questions that night, xiao later sends him a text of your name with a message not to bother you.
and childe’s eyes go wide when he eventually puts a face to the name. you, the weird chick always absently staring over at xiao in classes?
perhaps he should’ve seen it coming. he did think it was weird how he sometimes found you glancing quietly towards his friend. but he sort of assumed you’d have liked kazuha instead — you know, your actual best friend — over some guy you’ve never even talked to in your life.
so with the right determination, he makes it his personal mission the following monday to devote his own precious time for a stakeout. because who’s to say you weren’t secretly some disgusting pervert targeting your uninhibited emotions to an innocent classmate?
childe observes you from afar the whole day. from the moment you found your seat in class that morning, watching you lock eyes with xiao mid-science discussion, routinely tagging along with kazuha for lunch, and even as you’re concentrating on a note-taking phase during the afternoon break.
you haven’t made any explicit moves towards xiao…yet. it’s a rather normal and innocuous day for you.
until afternoon comes — and near the school gates, he watches as you awkwardly tug xiao aside to talk to him briefly. childe pauses in his steps, staring at your huddled silhouettes while attempting to decipher the distinct mood of the conversation. he sees you smile at one point, and how you courteously greet each other goodbye when it’s over.
did xiao accept your feelings then?
that night, he gets your number from a mutual friend, and sends you a harmless text message the next morning. if xiao reciprocated your interest in him that day, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to eventually get to know each other during the long run.
but when he arrives in school, he’s greeted by the sight of you staring at him in surprise and asking if you could spare him a minute of his time to talk. and it’s right then that you explain and attempt to clear up the misunderstanding that transpired between you and his best friend.
it still makes childe laugh at the absurdity of it whenever he thinks about the mistaken confession, and how throughly embarrassed you must have been for unhesitatingly sending it to a complete stranger.
from that fateful day on, you two started to become close friends. and to mark that unforgettably momentous occasion for you — childe would routinely find a way to weave his presence into your saturdays, bringing flowers, chocolates, typical department-store love letters, or text you a long ass cheap excuse of a profession — to remind you of your “beautifully executed confession”. even though really, it’s just a dumb excuse to poke infuriating jokes at you.
those continuous, and admittedly humorous endeavors of his, became some part of the reason why you could never bring yourself to confess to kazuha again…or anyone else for that matter.
and you know, maybe celibacy was the way your life was always destined to be. maybe you weren’t supposed to give out your heart to other guys, because you were solely meant to receive any form of romantic gesture every saturday from a certain ginger-haired bastard. and well, maybe it wasn’t the worst thing to have in the world.
or maybe he’s accidentally caught feelings when he suddenly put more thought than he should have, into picking out a gift on a random saturday.
maybe one average saturday, he’ll unconsciously fall for your smile and the sarcastic words of gratitude you’ll throw back at him.
and maybe, just maybe…on some imminent saturday, he won’t know what more to give other than his real and heartfelt confession to you.
homework hotline (albedo)
✉ 6:15 am, april 7th (thurs).
[ 1 new message! ] : hey, coming over to yours later for that project due next week.
you’ve had close friends come over to your apartment often, but none have ever made you feel as utterly relieved compared to when albedo visits.
it’s always been challenging for you to keep track of homework loads, or stay motivated while reviewing for an upcoming test due the end of the week. and albedo’s presence magically helps you to be productive with exactly all of that.
perhaps you feel more motivated, or somewhat pressured to accomplish tasks in the company of a person who’s actually mastered diligence. whatever it is, for the past few years it’s given you higher grades than you’ve ever expected to receive pitted against your previous academic years.
and ever since then, you’ve made it a point to always partner up together during projects, which he easily obliges to. plus, you’ve succeeded as a team in plenty of tasks for so long, that albedo naturally feels more inclined to work with you.
he also can’t deny that the company is indeed familiar and comfortable, therefore making it the most preferable alternative.
besides, he’s made himself at home in your apartment for a handful of years now, that it’s almost as if he practically lives together with you. an extra toothbrush left in your bathroom cupboard, a similar set of pillows and blankets stashed inside your closet, albedo’s hoodies and clothes folded in a neat pile within a separate drawer — his presence in your home was always just there.
which is why later that evening, as you and albedo are busy preparing dinner before you cram an overnight agenda of finishing several projects in advance, he casually suggests the idea of moving in together instead.
and it’s frankly not that terrible of an idea. the rent would be split between you both so you’d save much more, there would be no more trouble commuting to each other’s places to finish school-related tasks, house chores would be divided amongst the two of you, and albedo could occupy the apartment while you were out on weekly visits or sleepovers in kazuha’s.
so the deed is done. by the following week, you’ve already prepared other necessary accommodations, and albedo comes over with a small duffel bag (since most of his stuff was already left at your place) and a brand new key for your shared abode.
neither of you can really feel like something has changed. if anything, it seems more natural to have him permanently living with you because it makes things more convenient.
and ever since then, you’ve been constantly seen together a lot more frequently inside the university premises (causing some familiar faces grow envious at the sight of it), but the both of you preferred to keep your current home status as a personal secret so as not to fuel too many strange rumors.
you do homework with each other a lot more often. you’re also left in awe by the occasional detailed doodles scrawled across the corner pages of his lecture notebook. one late evening, you were wondering if it was the sleep taking over you, or he actually drew a little portrait of you on one of the tightly folded pages.
everyday, you’d take turns doing certain things during your well-deserved breaks. albedo, on one hand, teaches you how to draw and paint. you’re not exactly the best at artistic endeavors, but he was always patient and supportive, going as far as to provide specific remarks on the things you needed improvement with.
on other days, you’d convince him to sit down with you to binge food while watching your favorite films. he’d initially oblige to appease your kindness and hadn’t realized it at first — but at some later point, he ended up loving all the same movies as you did.
it’s slow but anticipated, the way he falls in love with you. perhaps a part of him has always seen this ending coming — recognized the dangerous path he was treading, and yet took it without any complaint.
even though he saw through your heart and how you wanted someone else. even as he witnessed the romantic gifts you carried back home with a giddy smile. even while he listens to you upsettingly vent about the most impertinent guy who keeps making his way back into your life.
because maybe deep down, he’s always hoped to love someone like this. the sound of your laughter filling his ears while making dinner. films on television illuminating your face in the darkness. yawns you stifle when it’s midnight and you’re almost finished with homework. fluttering eyes in the morning. enchanting smiles quirking across your lips. napping soundly on the study desk even though you kindly insisted on waiting up for him before you both slept. how it feels to talk about everything and nothing at the same time.
it’s natural and innate. foreign yet so familiar. a breath of fresh air. and yet, the feeling of home lingers across his fingertips.
a written, unchangeable, and hopeless destiny for albedo to always fall without constraint. and the saddest truth is — he wouldn’t have wanted this love for any other way.
BLOCKED — 4th grader asshole (scaramouche)
✉ 2:35 pm, april 9th (sat).
[ 1 new message! ] : you’re paying for the next meal dumbass.
scaramouche to you was a lot of things. perhaps the first and most notable one of them all was that he was an impressively pompous asshole.
and you suppose he’s always been like that. the same bitchy bully you’ve regretfully crossed paths with during the fourth grade.
the strangest part is, you’ve never actually done anything to piss the boy off. or at least, none you could still vividly remember. but you were certain that you weren’t too shitty as a kid, and your first interaction with scaramouche wasn’t even close to offensive.
it happened on the elementary playground, when you first caught sight of the little boy eagerly chasing after his friends, before suddenly tripping over a rock and diving straight into the ground. you remember the degrading echoes of his friends’ laughter, how you worriedly walked over to him and asked if he was okay. how you stretched your hand out to the kid on the ground, and how he stared at you with an unreadable gaze. and before you even knew it, past that singular moment, every single day of 4th grade became absolute war.
could anyone blame you for simply being courteous? he had terribly shitty friends and you only wanted to help…which yes, unexpectedly backfired with irreparable consequences. how were you to know in that second that something horrible would happen?
maybe you should never have approached scaramouche that day. or maybe you also would’ve regretted never helping him out.
either way, the thought has always plagued the back of your mind, and you wonder if your life would have changed so drastically had you made a different choice in that playground.
even until today, he still somehow manages to wander into your life oh so effortlessly. in the hallways, ramming into your shoulder without sparing a mere glance or an apology. in the middle of class, absently toying with your free locks of hair while you grumble several coherent insults towards the boy. during gratitude day, him stealing your white blouse scribbled in your friends’ messages and writing some of his own unwanted words on it. in the art room, cornering you with that devilish smirk and a finger against his lips as he warns you not to make a single sound, while the hall monitor angrily screeches his name around the deserted corridors…most likely intending to throw him in detention.
even at the comfort of your own home — he’s the neighbor who (unfortunately) moved around the same time as you did, except he lives in the spacious flat two floors below.
and it infuriates you to the ends of the earth. how he’s always been there. how he somehow still is.
when you aced a major test, he was there with an irritated scoff, reminding you not to get too full of yourself. when he saw how you started to fall for kazuha in the early years, he was there to poke fun of you for wanting a “nice” guy, because nice was just an equivalent for boring. when he saw you standing outside your house beneath the rain — soaked, shivering, and frustrated after a big argument with your parents — he shoved an umbrella in your face and told you how you looked absolutely horrendous.
he’s seen too much of you, both in your happiest and at your worst. not even others like kazuha or close family friends have witnessed or known such dark parts of you. why did it have to be him? this boy who has been constantly tormenting you for several years of your life?
even as you surround yourself with better people, you still think about the insolent asshole roaming around the hallways. still overly conscious about his presence whenever you’re in the same room (more than you would have wanted). still thinking about his umbrella in the rain.
and perhaps that was the most perplexing thing which unknowingly drew you to scaramouche. that you never really knew which side of him you were going to get everyday.
one moment he’s explicitly arguing with you in the middle of plain daylight (which unfortunately, later lands you both in detention) — then all of a sudden, you’re riding a bus at midnight to your apartment alone, and he’s the person coincidentally seated next to you, flinching at your snot as he hurriedly juts a handkerchief towards your teary face.
he’s always headed towards the apartment at the same time you exit the bus coming from the university. and although you two constantly bicker and fight along the way back to the building, he was there to accompany you on the lonely walk home.
he pokes fun about your painfully obvious crush on your best friend, but tones it down on the sunday he sees you with puffy red eyes after confessing and attempting to convince yourself you didn’t care if he didn’t want you back.
even more so when you’re unwillingly forced to share a table with him inside a popular and crowded restaurant during lunch — him insulting you for the way you scarf down your food like a pig, and yet his hand subconsciously reaches out to wipe the sauce smudge on the corner of your lips before casually licking it off his thumb.
you’re staring at him in confusion, grateful yet weirded out at the…generous gesture. but all he does is scoff disapprovingly at your face, because there’s no masking the strange red flush that creeps up your cheeks from the uncharacteristic tension and his sudden physical contact.
and for the first time in the years you’ve known him, you’ve only made yourself presently aware of the reddish tint that sets the tips of his ears aglow.
what you’ll never actually realize is how much effort he’s been constantly making to conceal that singularly instinctive (and frankly, repulsive) action that reminds him of how vulnerable you’ve always made him feel — ever since you gave him your hand back in fourth grade.
it would’ve helped him a lot more if he had never noticed you prior to that. how nice you were to the other kids and teachers. how adorable you looked in those neat pigtails. how you had unknowingly charmed every single person into the palm of your hand, and how you were still so infuriatingly enchanting and oblivious at the effect you had on others…even until today.
he hated feeling vulnerable more than anything else in the world, knowing that he was also one of those idiots helplessly wrapped around your finger. just that unlike the rest of them, he’d never actually stoop down so low with his pride to say it out loud.
and he hated that everyday, you were always making it all the more easier for him to admit it to himself. to scream out to the world that scaramouche hated how much he has somehow, foolishly, and quite impossibly, always been in love with you.
organization hottie (ayato)
✉ 5:23 pm, april 9th (sat).
[ 1 new message! ] : see you on monday.
you tried not to squeal too loudly when you suddenly received the text message. but albedo could see the way you tightly pressed your lips together to stifle back a wide whooping grin.
and why wouldn’t you be thrilled? you had just gotten accepted into your university’s official charity organization! it was certainly the perfect opportunity to expose yourself to more learning experiences and activities past the fields of academics.
obviously, it wasn’t like a super attractive person was currently heading the committee and had just sent you a text saying you got accepted a couple minutes ago…
or…okay.
so maybe there’s a bit of an influence. i mean, was it that bad to find a guy who devotes his time for others insanely charming?
of course, it wasn’t anything serious like the way you felt for kazuha. it was more of a happy crush, if you would call it — someone you have a slight romantic admiration for, but don’t exactly harbor any deep feelings towards them.
admittedly, you had naturally considered the prospect of finding yourself with nothing to do over the course of summer, and you figured applying in the organization wouldn’t do much harm for you anyway…even though you had some reservations about the final decision to sign up for it.
and then, you heard about how ayato was recently elected to oversee the committee activities for the following year. thus, the rest was simply history.
the next week, you’re swamped with exchanging introductions among several new members and almost immediately busying yourself with the upcoming project meeting.
oddly enough, you’ve been assigned in the same team as ayato for your first project. and although you began on a rather rough and awkward start together, he guides you through the transitioning process until you’ve learned at least enough things to handle some separate tasks independently.
you’ve always assumed ayato was an overly formal and aloof person to approach compared to the others — however on the contrary, you were pleasantly surprised to discover that he also beheld a mischievous side conflicting his own outer demeanor.
there were days when even he would occasionally reach out to talk about things past organization-related matters. simple questions such as asking about some input on a certain movie, if you had completed this previously given assignment, or merely checking how your day was going.
and maybe it was just strange for you to suddenly realize how human ayato feels.
sure, he was often distant and burdened under plenty of responsibilities. you’ve heard your fair share of rumors and how he was always seemingly placed on a pedestal above all — perhaps you’d almost forgotten that at the end of the day, he was still just trying to get his own shit together, like everybody else.
he was precisely nothing short of a normal guy. the kind who pokes good fun around and plays chess on breaks. the kind who still asks if you want to accompany him to springtime festivals. the kind who smiles at you when he sees you standing across the hallway. the kind who elbows you subtly when you’ve dozed out in the middle of somebody’s monologue. the kind who feels like you‘re somehow beginning to know him better than you know yourself.
and ayato thinks you’re the kind he wondered what would happen had he met you all those years ago instead. if he had an opportunity to know you better before, than he did today. if he would have liked you any sooner, or always just a little later.
maybe it’s true that ayato could work hard to be a lot of things. after all, he couldn’t have become half the man he was today if he hadn’t convinced himself to put in more effort than anybody else.
but maybe there were also some things ayato could just never bring himself to have, no matter how hard he tried. maybe there were always meant to be some moments and people he wasn’t possibly cut out for.
and maybe he could try all he wanted, but he could never really work hard enough to ever make you notice his own lonesome heart — always patiently waiting.
BONUS CONTACT ! — a short side story.
radio boy (thoma)
✉ 3:07 pm, april 5th (tues).
[ 1 new message! ] : hey y/n! do you mind stopping by the broadcasting room for a bit?
although thoma has always been well-favored among people of all ages, he feels that there’s nobody else he’d rather spend his company with than you.
it’s not that he’s wanted you for ill intentions or in a romantic perspective. just that you were his favorite person who was so invariably easy to talk to.
you first met thoma inside the broadcasting room, randomly paying a visit out of curiosity to ask the title of a particular song played during the morning break. and then the following day, you came back to ask on behalf of your friend about another song.
before either of you knew it, you were making regular yet brief appearances to the little recording area — not just to ask about songs, but also to initiate small talk about how the other’s day was going. it was later on you discovered that thoma was a student from another class in the same university who volunteered to work for the campus radio station.
on most days, you’d bring him pastries or coffee to satiate his empty stomach, since thoma preferred to spend most of his free time in the broadcasting room. sometimes, he’d also be generous enough to let you borrow some of his cd’s or flash-drives of music playlists that he thinks would suit your taste.
during periods when you were too busy to pay a visit, you’d send him a quick text apologizing in advance. but not even five minutes later, a familiar song would suddenly blast through the classroom speakers in response, and you couldn’t do anything to hide the contented smile from quirking across your face.
when thoma begins to fall in love with you, he finds himself secretly dedicating certain songs to you on the campus radio — either playing tracks he knows you love, or music that he thinks reminds him of you.
of course, you’re not really sure when the boy behind the radio started liking somebody. just that all of a sudden on an average weekday, you belatedly noticed how his choice of tunes changed, and never became the same as before.
and every time you’ll teasingly question thoma about his arbitrary selection of songs in hopes of prying him for a name drop, all he does is shrug with a quiet smile — saying that you, out of all people, should know her all too well.