Feeling Tipsy, Darling?

me when

me when people make fanart of shinichiro, mikey and emma together and write 'sano siblings <3' in the caption but izana isnt there

memes in sumeru 👌

does this look like an 800 number to you? - k.hj

spirit!kim hongjoong x gender neutral!reader

tw - implied suicide (do not read if such topics will trigger you), mild description of wounds, very brief fluff in the beginning, angst

word count: 3k

a/n: i know this is a half hour late for halloween i'm sorry don't @ me about it

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The voice was so sudden and loud that it made you tip over as you scrambled to get away from the ouija board in the middle of your living room floor. Your head hit the floor hard and you winced, the pain making tears sting your eyes.

“Ow,” you whined, squeezing your eyes shut. You made no attempt to get up and no more words came from anywhere near the ouija board. You must’ve imagined it. You let out a soft sigh. In your desperation for company you’d imagined that the cheap board you’d gotten from a thrift store had actually summoned some sort of presence in your crappy, dank apartment. Now the tears welling in your eyes were less from the pounding ache in your head and more from how pathetic the whole situation was. Who the fuck uses a ouija board to find company anyway?

“Hello? Did you knock yourself out? I asked you a question.”

You huffed softly. Why was the voice still there? You sat up, pressing a hand to the back of your head to try and quell the pain while you sniffed away your tears. There was no point in crying now. You should probably just order take out and get some sleep. Your vision cleared and you went to get up, only to find a man sitting cross-legged across from you. Oh.

“So?” he asked, clearly irritated. “Can you explain why I’m here?”

His mouth was pulled into a frown but otherwise he looked pretty normal. Like any other person you’d see on the street or at the grocery store. Surely this isn’t what ouija boards were supposed to dredge up, right? But he was here and clearly waiting for an answer anyway and you figured you might as well give him one.

“I wanted company,” you blurted out. You cringed at the overly honest answer. Judging by the look on the man’s face he had definitely expected a better excuse.

“Does this look like an 800 number to you?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at the ouija board.

“No,” you said, feeling shame crawl up your chest. It was just your luck that you’d summon a dickhead spirit. The tears came springing back and you could feel your cheeks start to burn from holding them back. Spending Halloween night alone with nothing to do and nowhere to go was bad enough but now you were being scolded for wanting something better to do, which was definitely worse.

“Hey, did you hit your head hard? Why are you crying?” the man asked, his voice suddenly much softer than it had been just a minute ago. You shook your head, hiding your face behind your hands.

“No, I’m fine,” you mumbled. “You can leave, it’s whatever.”

“I’m already here now,” he replied, now only slightly annoyed. You heard shuffling and suddenly there was a cold hand on the back of your head. You uncovered your face and found that the man was kneeling in front of you, his frown less intense and his eyes fixed on yours. “Did you hit your head hard?”

“Yeah,” you said, voice still unsteady. He grunted, letting go of your head and taking a hold of your face instead, wiping away your tears roughly and with little care.

“Well you kind of deserved it. Being dragged here like this is annoying. Ouija boards don’t bring us here by choice,” he said, letting go of your face. Now that he’d reprimanded you a little more his frown disappeared entirely, a neutral expression taking its place. “You’ve got your company now. Do you have any food?”

You blinked, your brows furrowing as you tried to understand what he was saying. Was this really how ouija boards worked? What kind of spirits turned up to scold you and then ask for food?

“I was going to order take out,” you told him, at the sound of which he pulled a face.

“Let’s cook something,” he said firmly before standing up. He took a moment to dust himself off, looking around your small living room to inspect your belongings. When he turned his head you noticed a wound in his head. It was bloody and the flesh around it was mangled, although you couldn’t see much of the damage thanks to the dark dry blood. It sat almost at the back of his head but slightly to the side of it, and now that you knew where it was you noticed it when he was facing you directly again. He turned the other way, eyes dragging over the shelves by your TV, making another wound visible. This one was significantly smaller and significantly cleaner as well. You chewed on your bottom lip, suddenly very aware of the nature of the man standing in front of you. “You must’ve hit your head pretty hard. Come on, let’s cook.”

He turned his head a little and you found that he’d been looking at you the whole time. Or more so watching you look at the wound in his head. For the second time since he’d shown up you felt your face burn with embarrassment.

“Yeah, sorry,” you mumbled, standing up and walking the few steps it took to get to your kitchen.

The man wasn’t particularly helpful but you supposed you couldn’t expect much after summoning him from wherever he had come from. He boiled noodles and ate crisps while you fried and cooked the few vegetables you’d found in your fridge, the silence between the two of you a little awkward but not tense. You were still frying the vegetables when he sidled up to you, his shoulder almost pressing into yours.

“Can we put on some music?” he asked, smiling when you nodded. You handed him your phone and he navigated YouTube with ease, making you wonder when exactly he’d passed away. His clothes were a little weird (who the hell wears pants that are half plaid and half denim?) but only in the way that fashion is weird. They didn’t look outdated at all. Before you could ask about them, the kitchen filled with the sound of music playing from your phone. You glanced over at the screen and saw a logo but not much else. He seemed pleased, lifting himself to sit on the counter while you poured sauce over the vegetables.

“ATEEZ?” you asked, squinting slightly to see the logo better. The man hummed in response. “I’ve never heard of them.”

“They’re gonna make it big soon,” he said, nodding solemnly. “They might have a Spotify page up, you should check it out.”

He had a different expression on his face now. In fact it’d be more appropriate to say that there was no expression on his face at all, what with the way his eyes were unfocused and his lips were pressed into a thin line. You looked at the wound in his head again. You could see into his head now that you were closer to it - could see the crater where his brain and skull and scalp should’ve been. Your stomach twisted at the sight and you concentrated on the pan in front of you.

“Can you drain the noodles and split them into two bowls?” you asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace he’d found now that he was listening to music. He hopped down from the counter and did as you asked, letting you spoon the vegetables and sauce over both portions of noodles. He grinned at you once you were done.

“This looks way better than take out,” he said, picking up both bowls and carrying them to the living room. You followed after him, picking up your phone and scrolling through the recommended videos. A few videos down a thumbnail popped up of a few guys sitting in what looked like a basement with a shoddy recording studio set up around them. They were grinning at each other - wide, childish grins that you recognised from old photos you had with your own friends. The kind of smile you can’t hold back regardless of how hard you tried. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d smiled like that. It took a few seconds for you to realise that the boy sitting in the middle was the same man now sitting in your living room. You checked the title of the video. ‘ATEEZ - Treasure’. You’d listen to it later, you decided.

You found the man sitting on the floor in front of your coffee table, shovelling noodles into his mouth and clicking through TV channels. His eyes widened almost comically when he saw you, his ears turning pink.

“Sorry,” he said through his mouthful of food. He chewed and swallowed before speaking again. “Sorry I started without you. Nobody’s cooked for me since-”

He stopped talking, his mouth still halfway open with no sound coming out. There was a long moment in which he looked like he might just evaporate in front of you - whether it would be out of embarrassment or sorrow you couldn’t tell. But then he blinked a few times and shut his mouth, turning his attention back to the TV.

“There should be horror movies on, right? Isn’t it Halloween?” he asked, handing you the remote control.

“Yeah, you just didn’t find the movie channels,” you explained, clicking through the channels until you found one playing a movie. “Have you seen Nightmare on Elm Street?”

“Of course I have. Johnny Depp’s really hot in it,” he said.

“Lucky for you,” you said, snorting softly at his comment. He grinned when he looked up to see that Nightmare on Elm Street was playing on the TV, looking over at you and laughing softly.

“Score,” he murmured.

The two of you ate quietly after that, occasionally commenting on the actors in the movie or the special effects. When the movie came to an end you left him with the task of finding another movie to watch while you washed the dishes, the small apartment filled with the white noise of the TV playing and the man’s quiet humming. When you came back to the living room he’d made himself at home in a corner of the sofa, eyes concentrated on a movie you didn’t recognise.

“Thanks for doing the dishes,” he mumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest and picking at a loose thread on his jeans.

“You’re the guest, you don’t have to thank me,” you said, smiling a little. You didn’t want to say it out loud but you were more than happy to wash his dishes and watch the horror movies he was picking out. You hadn’t had a friend over like this in so long - not a friend or acquaintance or anybody - and you'd started to think you weren't going to have anyone over ever again. Sure, he’d been irritable at first but now that he’d settled down he was a pleasant presence. You sat down on the sofa with a soft sigh. “If you want anything just let me know.”

“I want one thing,” he said not a second after you’d spoken, looking over at you with a more serious expression than you’d seen on him since he’d turned up.

“Sure, what is it?” you prompted, his stare making you uncomfortable. You felt stripped bare by the way his eyes narrowed for a split-second, his hands completely still as he looked at you.

“Why did you use that board?” he asked. “Not in the way that I asked you earlier, like ‘what the fuck are you doing’. It’s not like you have any friends here for it to be fun. You didn’t even light candles or any of that spooky stuff. So what was the point?”

You paused, opening and closing your mouth until you realised you must look like a goldfish and you shut your mouth, looking away from him. It wasn’t a very personal question but it certainly felt like one. Maybe it was the sincere tone in his voice or the fact that he was still staring but you felt like you’d been shoved under a spotlight.

“I told you, I wanted company,” you said finally. It wasn’t entirely a lie after all.

“Okay. But you know that you’re alive, right? You can go out to clubs or to friends’ houses or invite people over - other living people,” he said. His tone wasn’t accusatory but you felt a little childish now that he’d put it like that. “You don’t have to call on the dead.”

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat as you tried to figure out how to answer him.

“I just didn’t have anyone. To go out with or visit or invite over,” you explained, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t have anyone.”

He didn’t say anything for what felt like far too long and you turned around, scared that he might’ve disappeared, but he was still in his corner of the sofa, still staring steadily with his hands placed on his knees and his lips parted as though he was trying to come up with something to say.

“You don’t have to answer, let’s just watch the movie,” you mumbled sheepishly, angling your body away from him so that you wouldn’t have to feel his eyes on you anymore. Once again he didn’t reply. Instead, you felt his hand close around your wrist. His skin was so cold it made you jump, your head whipping around to find him sitting much closer to you than he had been just seconds ago.

“No,” he said. “You’re not alone.”

“What?” you asked, drawing your wrist out of his grip. He let you do so and leaned away from you slightly, his lips forming a frown.

“The last time someone cooked for me was a week before I- a week before I died,” he said, eyes never leaving yours. He visibly swallowed, his Adam’s apple shifting up and down. You wondered if he had the same lump in his throat that you did. “It was my best friend. We were watching movies in my apartment - us and all of our other friends. He cooked for us. We helped him but he always took care of us, so he did most of the cooking.”

You wanted to understand what he was trying to say. From the way he was struggling to keep a straight expression it was clear that he’d made a connection you hadn’t noticed yet and you waited for him to explain.

“And they stayed over for most of the night but when they left I should have-”

He paused and you noticed how his hands were no longer still but shaking. You took them into yours and gave them a soft squeeze. He inhaled sharply, finally breaking the eye contact he’d been holding for so long.

“I felt alone, like you do. I knew I could go out or go back to his place or just ask them to come back but I didn’t,” he said. He looked back up at you, his lashes wet and his bottom lip shaking. “I didn’t mean to- I should have called someone.”

“Hey,” you whispered, reaching forward to pull him into you. He hugged you tightly, clinging to you as though his existence depended on it. His tears soaked through your shirt and your own vision blurred at the feeling, your heart sinking in your chest. “Don’t cry.”

“Hypocrite,” he mumbled between sniffles without any real bite. His hand moved up and down against your back slowly, soothing both you and himself until neither of you were crying anymore. “I made it so I can never see them again. We were gonna make it big together. My friends are really- they’re so talented and I wanted to be there with them when they-”

You shushed him, not wanting him to work himself up again. He shook his head and hugged you tighter.

“You’re not like me. You can still call someone,” he said, his shoulders shaking as he suddenly pulled back to look at you, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly. “If you don’t have anyone I’ll give you his number. My best friend. He'll answer. I know he will.”

There was so much desperation in his voice that it only made more tears roll down your cheeks. He let go of one of your shoulders and wiped your cheeks with his thumb. He was a dozen times more careful than he had been when wiping your face earlier and it made your heart ache.

“I’m a stranger, he won’t answer,” you whispered. The man in front of you shook his head.

“He knows that people need somebody sometimes,” he said gently. “He’ll take care of you the way he took care of me, okay?”

You could tell that wasn’t really the sentence he wanted to say but you didn’t need to hear him say it to know what he meant.

He’ll take care of you the way he can’t take care of me anymore.

“I know I said that ouija boards aren’t supposed to be 800 numbers but you use that board whenever you need company, okay?” he said. His voice had returned somewhat to the harsh tone he’d had when he first turned up in your living room, finding a balance between caring and rude that was reminiscent of how close friends talk to each other. You smiled through the tears in your eyes and nodded. He nodded in return and settled against the sofa to watch TV, gesturing for you to lean into him. “There’s still some of the movie left.”

The next morning the man was nowhere to be found. The only proof that he hadn’t been a figment of your imagination was the extra bowl drying on the dish rack and the notification on your lock screen from a new contact named Seonghwa in response to a message that you remembered the man typing out into your phone. He was inviting you out to dinner with his friends.

The final piece of evidence was that you were now following ATEEZ on Spotify. Their top song started with an audio clip of the man you’d met last night, giggling and talking to the rest of his friends in what sounded like the happiest voice you’d ever heard. He was talking about the next album he wanted to write. His voice was nowhere to be found in the rest of the song.

It hurt to hear.

☆⌒

taglist: @lovely-ateez @sunsethw4 @seonghwanotes @xirenex @choiberry @peanutpmingib @sannierio @ateezinmymind

way back home.

Folly ✤ Scaramouche

A/N: This takes place in the same universe as 'Devilry' (aka the crackfic), where MC is the previous Sixth Harbinger dubbed as 'Mistress Fiore'.

✤ Mentions of death

✤ There's nothing wrong with indulging in dangerous follies every now and then, especially if that folly is nothing but that fascinating defector.

Words: 2.1k

Within the expanse of the temple draped in a frosty twilight gathers a handful of dignitaries, all with a single purpose; to grieve for the fallen.

Well, their grieving may be a tepid act—after all, one cannot overlook the possibility that their hearts are more bristling than mourning. The fact remains that it is still only a mere assumption, though.

Despite being... comrades in arms, not one of them truly knows what the other bears inside their chest. Aside from the obvious mutual belligerence, of course.

“Who invited the mistress here?”

The voice rises amid the frigid air, biting as though it carries frost in its tone.

Naturally, everyone's attention is piqued. It's a question that serves both to distract themselves from the loss of an ally and to ascertain the reason for the arrival of an unsought guest.

But is the aforementioned person truly uninvited?

“You wound me, can I not be present to send my own farewell to the Eighth?” you speak up with faux umbrage, stepping beyond the shadows of the pilasters.

Far from being disconcerted by the number of eyes nipping at your profile like tiny cicins, you lift your head, meeting the faces of those you previously deemed comrades. Now mere... 'acquaintances'.

“Besides, don't you think it's only expected for me to fill in the blank slot that the Balladeer left open for this moment?”

It isn't like you're going to take back the position afterward.

The knowing hum settles an air of brewing resignation, tinged with a bit of vexation that seems to come to the group naturally.

Tartaglia clicks his tongue from his place at the pews, voice amicably austere. “Calm down, it was I who invited Fiore.”

His answer dispels most of the lingering bafflement in the crowd and the ceremony carries on without delay and reluctance.

Although, you huff in disbelief. It's more of a business meeting than a funeral ceremony.

You decide not to speak against it, however, aware of your standing in the place. Instead, you've taken to observing the varying expressions on their faces. They're all so impervious as ever.

The plan not to opine fails later on though, following the ludicrous decree about the momentary pause of business and other affairs as well as Pantalone's opinion about it.

“Half a day's holiday?” you find yourself giggling, though it's crystal clear that you're far from being amused. “Careful, your gracious facade seems to be slipping, mister disingenuous mayor.”

Pulcinella crinkles his nose and adjusts his spectacles with a sigh.

“Hm, I'd rather not open my ears to the words of an ex-Harbinger. Do be content that we allowed you to stay.”

You whistle, finding no reason to deny the latter portion of his statements. It's irking how he seems to dismiss your previous rank as the Sixth and denigrate your current status, though.

As if sensing the subdued venom beginning to rise from your throat, another voice cuts in.

“Can you cease the farcical banter?” Arlecchino gives her fellow Harbinger a pointed stare, scrutiny evident in her eyes. “[Name] may no longer be in the official ranks, but she was the only one who ever sought camaraderie between you half-hearted dignitaries.”

Her concern for this shoddy, half-hearted excuse of a holiday is thus valid. Is the underlying message.

You cup your cheeks with a pleased smile, drawing out a long, grateful sigh. “My, thank you, lady Arle. Ever the justiciar.”

Her auxiliaries are anticipated, yes, but you didn't think she'd actually support you. But then again, she seems to be the only one who genuinely grieves the death of Signora. Apart from Pantalone and Pierro—and maybe even Tartaglia.

The Knave transfers her look towards you. It's nothing short of perfunctory, perhaps even a bit scunnered.

“That does not remove the fact that you are no longer one of us. You've only until the end of condolences before you are to leave.”

Of course.

“Oh, the woes of being unwanted!” you bemoan, holding your head for a melodramatic show.

You can tell that doing so has earned you a couple dirty looks and though you feel a tad awful—borderline catalyzing the enmity when again, this is no place to start a fight—you do not apologize.

Well, not to them.

It's an indecent, immoral act, but you like to believe that you're the lesser evil in the room.

With a step forward, you ascend a few inches into the air, moving past the Harbingers and hovering over the intricately gilded cenotaph. No one stops you.

Caressing the marble surface of the tomb makes you note how it's a lot colder than the atmosphere.

Unfitting for the Witch whose heart only knew how to be set ablaze.

But if you consider the Delusion she's been gifted, then it is appropriate; for a blazing heart to freeze and shatter, unable to rekindle its loving warmth.

“Looks like I am only as transient as a minute here, Rosalyne.” there is silence in the temple. Not one voice overpowers yours.

Maybe they have finally gotten self-conscious? It's funny to think that someone who is no longer a Harbinger is the first to send her farewell. What ridicule!

With a silent, single clap, you expel a breath and hum. Your time here is done—you'll have to thank Childe sometime for the official invitation.

Pierro is just about to say something- business talk, maybe. Whatever it is, it does not include you, and to be honest, you'd rather not be included, either.

You vanish into a myriad of snowflakes before anyone can raise a word, leaving only your final murmurs resonating within the temple.

“May your soul find peace in the embers of that which you burned.”

Your next destination leads you to the familiar lands of Liyue and to the terra that stretches past its borders.

The swift travel from the icy nation back to a more tropical one has depleted most if not all of your stamina, so you stayed at an inn for a little while to recuperate.

Although you do have an objective in mind, you aren't in a rush. It's safe to say that you are one step further than the Fatui Harbingers, hence the insouciance.

Besides, like some magical work of nature, you are far attuned to the presence you're seeking, so searching doesn't come off as difficult. In fact, you are able to find him merely two days after staying at Wangshu Inn.

Conspicuous even without trying to, the violets and reds of his attire are emphasized amid the drying greens of the environment. He's dwelling in discreet places, however, managing to shroud himself in the shadows and not make a sound.

Any traveler—not the blond one, though—will fail to see him. But unfortunately, he sticks out to you like a sore thumb.

“For once, you are trying to be discreet.”

The defector stills with a muted hiss, swift to register the arrival of someone as well as the lack of additional weight on his head.

His buttons are already pressed, but annoyance and genuine indifference aside, he's at least thankful that he's found by non-Fatui first.

“Mm, but the hat's still remarkably ostentatious, don't you think so?”

Not like being found by Harbingers poses that much of a problem, he'd simply fight them. That said, he's this close to flicking out his catalyst, too...

“Scaramouche.”

He doesn't, though, and decides to just humor the person who's managed to trace his steps from Inazuma.

Immediately, he meets a pair of gushed [c]s and the usual smile he's seen—unwillingly—far too many times to count. Clicking his tongue, he grumbles.

“Tsk, Fiore.”

No sort of communication has transpired between them in the past months, not after the research about the meteorites and the godawful luncheon shared between them along with Signora and Tartaglia.

So, he isn't going to lie and say that he's not surprised to see her in front of him.

'Fiore' sighs hyperbolically, the theatrical action quick to make the man roll his eyes. He expected nothing less.

She starts with a spin, showing off her apparel that although carried a few similarities from her previous Harbinger attire, looked more... liberated.

In the sense that it's unique, a style that screamed 'Fiore' instead of the nations in Teyvat.

“You misunderstand, Balladear, I'm not Fiore, but [Name]. I'm a free woman. I'm in no organizations.”

That's new, for the last time he saw her, she was still rather attached to the organization. Or perhaps that's her way of supervising him, the one who had taken her place.

He must've been scrutinizing her appearance with a silence that lacked his usual aggro—because before he knows it, the lady leans forward with a wink.

It sends a chill down his back.

“Nor in any relationships, if you catch my drift.”

Bitter Archons above-

“Get the hell out of my sight.” Scaramouche snarls with pinched brows, turning away in disgust after snagging his hat back.

He really doesn't know what else to expect of her, but he's a little relieved that she hasn't grown out of that preposterous charm of hers. Still devilishly annoying, but he's not one to talk.

Uninterested in the laughter that rings behind him, he continues his trek toward the neighboring nation of Sumeru. At the moment, there's nothing but the crucial need to get away.

An impossible thing—for the Fatui always manages to catch up, he knows that better than anyone—but that's a headache for another day.

He already has one just seeing this woman and the humid air is not helping alleviate it. Sweat is rolling down his temples and it's only the nice cover of his hat that prevents him from melting into mush under the raging sun.

A cold gust of wind blows through him, the discordant chill amid the otherwise dry area implying that it was done with the use of both a Vision and Delusion.

Perceptive as always, that girl.

“The Tsaritsa is rather upset, you know?” she calls, voice steadily growing closer.

He was about to address her use of Anemo and Cryo—maybe slot in an impossible thanks—but that's thrown out of his mind a second later.

The Tsaritsa?

Huffing, he doesn't bother stopping and facing her, wary of his growing headache 'cause damn. “Two-faced liar, so you were with them.”

“To pay respects,” the response is quick, as though his censures were foreseen. “Signora was a nice comrade. A little haughty, but nice.”

Nice. Scaramouche almost laughs. Signora, nice.

Perhaps her competency with taking the Queen's piece, yes.

But only someone with a loose screw can ever describe the pile of ash as nice, but then again, this is [Name]. If devilish isn't her middle name, then perhaps eccentric is.

“They will be coming after you. You are aware of that, aren't you?”

Exasperating works, too.

“What do you take me for? An idiot?” he finally stops, unable to hide the offense on his face as he swivels with a glare.

Is he being disparaged? Him?

The venom on his tongue is milliseconds away from coating the words he's about to convey, but he receives an answer before he can do so.

“A renegade with a bounty over his head heading to Sumeru. I hope you weren't blinded by what you sought.” [Name] answers with a shrug, her pretty [c]s fixated on the glimmer of violet peeking behind the overlays of fabric.

On the defensive, Scaramouche lifts a hand to cover the glow of the Electro Archon's Gnosis. He does this even though he's aware that [Name] has no intention of stealing it from him.

In any case, she's much more likely to steal his damned hat again.

He scoffs once more. “I'm none of your business.”

Leave me alone.

The message needn't be said when it's already so obviously implied.

Having uttered what he wanted, he resumes his pace, thinking of feasible plans for the coming few days. He has no doubts that a Harbinger is going to be sent after him.

Eyes forward, he walks with his chin tipped high, confident and unfaltering of what lies ahead. There is nothing to fear, nothing to be bewildered over.

The macabre art of war comes to him naturally and there aren't any qualms about death, he is used to such things. But if there is one thing he isn't used to, then...

“Do you have a death wish?” he halts and asks this, genuinely lost in a confusion that he won't admit out loud.

Only the sound of his feet against the terra is heard a minute ago, but he isn't oblivious to the following figure at his back, levitating as always. Nonchalant as she can possibly be.

“What you're doing is nothing but utter folly.”

Why are you still here?

He doesn't even need to turn around to see [Name] shrug. As if she isn't at all deterred by the fact that she can die if she continues to follow him.

“I know.” she answers, sounding insanely delighted.

Scaramouche clicks his tongue again.

If there's anything he isn't accustomed to, then it is the devilish [Name].

“You're mad.”

Only a giggle answers his words as he begins to walk again, making no move to stop her any longer and letting her float around him with a bunch of jests rolling past her tongue.

He's irked, but that's alright.

He's fond of pretty and exasperating devils, anyway.

a/n: mm, nothing like scara pretending not to care that mc decided to stick with him when in fact he's actually all "aw ye" about it deep down lmao

@cherryflushz @e7t3 @scarlet-halos @lordbugs @nebulaera @annoying-and-upset @hanniejji @applepi1415 @tjjjrsj @azirajane @hey-comrade-hold-stil @limelightsuperhero @chloeloe @loptido @windyventi @nejibot @ganyuqrt @justrinnn @yasunamilk @alana5021

flowery conversations - xiao

summary; traveler meets an... interesting character..

genre; comedy, fluff, family fluff, xiao cannot handle you, platonic chaos, traveler can be either lumine or aether, dendro vision reader, zhongli is father i love him, mute! traveler canon <3, angst with traveler lol

[gender neutral reader]

word count; 643

a/n; i sort of just mushed these two requests together if that is okay, reader gender neutral in this

im so sorry that it's taken me so long to get to some more requests. i dont really have much of an excuse other than stress and depression lmao

anything traveler "says", they're just using sign <3

the traveler didn't know how they got in this situation nor did they want to know.

"hello traveler! i heard a lot about you!" you smile brightly at the honored traveler. "i heard you met my brother xiao!"

at that paimon exclaims, "xiao's your brother?!"

"yep! always has been! nothing changed since then! wouldn't say i miss the old times but zhongli was such a crazy father! it was a crazy time for everyone back then." you laughed heartily. "nice to meet you, traveler! were you looking for xiao?"

"yeah. we need to talk to him." they sign to you.

"hm? is that so? he doesn't really like talking to people. you must really be special after all!" you hummed, "let me lead the way then!" you started walking cheerily towards qingyun peak.

the traveler nods in acknowledgement, paimon floating around by their side while they notice the flowers blooming around a bit more brightly than usual. upon another look, they point the dendro vision on your waist. pointing it out, they earn a small smile from you, "yep! that's my vision. i wish i got a geo vision like morax but nonetheless i'm pretty thankful for this one! i can help xiao with it. but i can still kick ass too!" you laughed.

with an nice conversation between you and the two outlanders, you make it to the highest point in liyue. the beautiful view of all of liyue never fails to make you breathless (or maybe it was how high in the air was the reason for your breathlessness). "xiao! you have a visitor! it's me and traveler!" you wave your hand rapidly in excitement upon seeing your brother. you and traveler can hear xiao's heavy sigh before he turns to see you practically vibrating and ready to see xiao interacting with traveler.

it would be the few times you would see xiao willingly talk to someone that wasn't an adepti.

"what is it?" traveler soon explained a message they had gotten from zhongli, who was hoping to see you and xiao in just a few moments. traveler was thankful in knowing that xiao was here which would save themself some time as zhongli would be on his way to qingyun peak.

"dad is on his way here? can't wait to see him!" upon your excitement, anyone can see the spike of growth of plants around your feet. "also look at you xiao making a new friend! i'm so proud!" despite your words sounding so teasing, you meant it all. before xiao could reply with any sass or annoyance, you have your arms wrapped around him in a hug.

traveler can only watch with masked happiness and hidden pain. maybe one day they'll find their sibling.

pushing the thought away, they wave goodbye to you and xiao, you being the one to wave as xiao was stuck in your hold, arms bound to his sides.

bonus;

upon traveler leaving, zhongli had arrived not soon after, seeing the two of you watch the orange sky slowly turn dark.

"it's so pretty.."

"you say that everytime."

"because it's true! i like appreciating beauty!" a deep chuckle stops an upcoming argument. you gasp, quickly running over to zhongli and engulfing him in a hug, "dad! i missed you! xiao was bullying me!" you point at xiao, who merely stands there unimpressed with your accusation. zhongli hugs back, patting your head.

"i don't think that's quite the case there, dear. but shall i scold xiao for you?" he asked, amusement swimming in his eyes as your pleading ones meet them. you nodded before laughing.

"yes yes! you hear that xiao? dad is gonna scold you!" xiao can only sigh upon being teamed up by you and zhongli. the flowers bloomed a bit brighter as your laughter rings out in the night.

“Someone who won’t run away” and now homeboy is running away from him , himself 😭

Credits to luty_nii on instagram

that's a wrap! — 🎬 [scaramouche x fem!reader]

rising actor and well-known rapper, kunikuzushi opens up about his love life during an interview with the yae publishing house! the young actor revealed that his dedication to his role as the second male lead made him break things off with his girlfriend! read more to find out here.

genres. modern au, romance, comedy, angst, exes to lovers, kuni is a celebrity, socmed + narrations

status. on-going [05.13.23]

taglist. open, reply to this post if you want to be added.

notes.

will be using fem pronouns for the reader!

inconsistent updates

grammatical and typographical errors

the idols/pictures used are only faceclaims and serves as placeholders. they do not define the look of the reader or the characters in any way

do not mind the timestamps unless stated otherwise

TRAILERS —

teaser 1

teaser 2

STARRING —

anemo

anti-anemo /hj

EPISODES —

one

two

three

four

five

six

seven

eight

nine

ten

tba

EXTRAS —

random anemo tweets

kuniyn photoshoot bts

random anemo bubble chats

tba

TAGLIST I — (usernames that aren't highlighted couldn't be tagged. please check your settings!)

@aemiko @the-frogs-go-moo @arrowximpack @thenightsflower @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @kichiyoshi @zyilas @yae-raidenmyloves @kiyomi-hoku @pooonyo @user11918163805279 @dollpoetwriting @moon-320 @selahsunshhine @lxkeeeee @alatusorrow @kaocia @ghostlysyntaxed @ciwzing @coquettemaiden @thenyxsky @kunitaro @nataliahemsworth @dazaisboner @d4y-dr3am3r @borayoora @sagegreenthinks @yukiipc @xoyumiqls @sakiimeo @xiaossocksniffer @kunikuzushisbeloved @empathum @ilyuu @isaac-mei @tiddieshakeshownu @jihanniee @niiheng @frissy @ohmyfinggod @jiminscarmex @kyon-cherri @neigesprincess @clara-xoxo @xiaosonlybeloved @saecriss @atlaszi @angelkazusstuff @jaiden-zhou @yoursockstinks

yours truly,

yours truly, (part one). / sincerely, (part two).

premise: as a friend of the most attractive students in school, you're more than used to acting as the middleman between them and the people vying for their affection, often tasked with delivering presents or handing out their love letters. however, when you chance upon a small bouquet of flowers on your desk without a note indicating the sender or who you're meant to give it to, you start to wonder if this one's supposed to be yours.

includes: childe, xiao, diluc, kazuha, albedo, thoma & gorou !

a/n: hahaha why is this so long... anyways this is a college au + reverse harem of some sorts. enjoy. i really don't want this one to flop so likes and reblogs are appreciated thx

“Do you think it's a prank?”

“Why is that the first thing that pops into your mind?” Keqing sighs as she fixes her makeup in front of a compact mirror, smacking her lips to spread the color evenly. “You're really cute, [Name]. why wouldn't someone like you by now?”

Your face burns at the offhand comment. “You're only saying that because we're friends.”

Ayaka giggles, twirling a lock of your hair with her finger. “Of course not. You're very adorable! If anything, it'd be more surprising if nobody likes you.”

“Who do you think it's from, though?” Ganyu quietly asks from beside you, observing the handful of carnations laying on your desk. Scanning the students currently present in the room, she thoughtfully adds, “maybe someone on the shyer side since they couldn't give it to you directly?”

“Or someone who did it to be romantic,” Kokomi suggests, scrutinizing the flowers with keen eyes. “That's quite nice of them.”

You hummed in contemplation, trying to figure out who placed it on your table. “Are you sure it's not a prank... or a mistake? You all sit beside me, so maybe they mistook my seat for yours-”

“You're the only one who faithfully sits there, [Name]. We don't even have assigned seats so most of us sits wherever,” Keqing clarifies, staring at you with a disapproving look. “Don't deny it. You know it's yours.”

“But I can't think of anyone who would like me!” you exclaim in defeat. “I am curious about who gave it, though... I should try to find out who it is...”

“More importantly...” Ganyu smiles at you, noticing the blush dusting your cheeks. “Who do you want it to be?”

childe:

in all honesty, he's your first guess.

not because you think he likes you or anything! he's just a huge flirt.

at the beginning of the school year, you hardly got along. you know he's a friendly guy, but it's in the way that... intimidated you. he's part of the “mood maker” clique, attracting attention wherever he goes, and you're not sure if you could handle his energy...

you preferred to stay away from the spotlight though that's a bit hypocritical considering you're friends with the prettiest group of girls in your year, and he relished in it. you didn't know if you could get along.

you didn't become friends until you were assigned partners for a project that meant a lot for your grade, and you vowed to yourself if you couldn't be close to him, you should at least be close enough to work together without trouble.

in the end, you surprisingly hit it off, childe easing the awkward air between you with jokes and random stories to tell about his weird friends. your friendship didn't end when the project did, and you continued to hang out outside of school. you're sure he didn't approach you to get closer to your friends, either; though you had some doubts at first, he was nothing alike with the jerks who tried to use you.

you're no stranger to the pranks he pulled, nor were you unaware of his flirty nature; he occasionally entertained the lot who fancied him when he attended drinking parties. so it made perfect sense if it was childe who gave those flowers, along with the gifts that followed after. it would just be him messing around again, right? oh, definitely! it wouldn't be the first time he spent his money in reckless abandon, bragging that he has the cash to spare for it.

but unexpectedly when you bring up the topic, his expression darkens, showing no sign of joking around. he looks a little shocked, too, to know someone was pursuing you.

“it's not from me,” he admits, gently taking your hand. “but it's true that i like you.”

xiao:

xiao is one of the people you deliver presents to lol

due to his intimidating disposition (and the endless amount of nasty rumors swirling about him, thanks to said intimidating disposition), hardly anybody would dare to approach him, daunted by the perpetual scowl etched on his face. he remains as eye candy, but an entity no one could reach.

you avoided him at first, too. his face is admirable, you can say that much, but you've become somewhat desensitized from having been surrounded by pretty faces 24/7 so you can't really say it's anything new... and yes, you are scared of him to a certain degree. you could never guess what he's thinking.

you weren't sure if he's as scary as people make him out to be though, since people tend to exaggerate gossip for the sake of shock value. he once defended a middle schooler from high school delinquents (through persuasion and not with fists), but the story somehow twisted into another tale entirely detailing how xiao had brutally wiped the floor with their faces and painted the concrete floor with blood...

but as intimidating as he might seem, you don't think he's that kind of character. if you overlook his piercing glare and sharp tongue, he's quite decent.

... you thought that way until you caught him tailing you on your way home.

he crept up behind you, maintaining a natural distance, but after numerous twists and turns in hopes of leading him away, he had yet to cease heading towards your direction. you wouldn't be so suspicious if you hadn't purposely gone in circles around town, leading back to where you came from — which meant he didn't have a particular destination in mind, and fully intended on being hot on your tail.

tired of having bated breath waiting for his next move, you gathered all your courage and confronted him directly, cornering him to the nearest wall to assert dominance. xiao seemed startled by your forwardness, and you took his moment of vulnerability as an opportunity to interrogate him.

unexpectedly, he sheepishly confesses, “i'm not a stalker, i got worried since you're going home this late. haven't you heard about the crime rate these days...”

from there on, you suppose you could say you understood him better. though he's snappy and stern, he's not that terrifying, even sweet at times. when you become proper friends (and you stop suspecting him as your stalker), he saves you a seat next to him, or brings you coffee that you like when he notices you're sleepy in class.

it wasn't long until everybody came to know you were friends and a girl finally — you guessed it — asked you to send a love letter to xiao in her stead.

when you gave it to xiao, he was unusually flustered, flushed pink to the tips of his ears. his expression falls flat once you tell him it's from someone else, badly containing the disappointment to show on his face.

nevertheless, you continue to be friends, and xiao has learned not to expect much from you.

he's the earliest to arrive in class, so you ask him if he'd seen the person who gave you flowers. with a cold, hard look, he says no.

he's acting kind of weird, isn't he...

diluc:

the barista in the coffee shop near your university that has to put up with so much bullshit flirting everyday.

he has to reject people in a roundabout way, and you know he hates it, but of course he has to provide great customer service if he still wants customers right... directly breaking their hearts would only make problems.

but he takes no shit from rude customers.

no, you weren't one of them. in fact, diluc quite liked you a bit. first of all, you don't have any romantic interest for the staff, you genuinely enjoy his drinks (he knows because your face is like an open book), and you mind your own business. he tolerates you enough that he can make small talk with you and it doesn't upset him in the slightest.

so it really ticked him off when some idiot was bothering you in the cafe, starting an argument over a trivial matter that shouldn't be fussed over.

in normal circumstances, diluc would've done the usual protocol — reason with the angry customer, offer free products, and let them leave the premises peacefully. but the moment he saw the man grab your shoulders and you winced in pain as a result, he didn't even have to think of what to do next.

cold coffee rained down on the ill-mannered man's head, evoking a surprised scream out of him. his fingers left your body in favor of patting away the sticky liquid from his clothes, and you stared blankly at the seething figure behind him.

“your order,” diluc announced, his voice tinted with rage. then he pretended to remember something, looking at the empty cup in his hand. “oh, i apologize. you ordered it hot, didn't you?” he forced a smile on his face. “would you like me to brew another one for you?”

the man erupted to a new screaming fit, but he was promptly dragged aside. diluc immediately questioned if you were hurt anywhere, his voice a total 180 from before and turning into a soft tone you nearly didn't recognize.

“that stunt you pulled...” you nervously said. “will you be okay...? won't you get, er, dismissed because of it?”

“...you don't know i own this place?”

“???”

in any case, you've become good friends ever since that incident. so when your secret admirer gives you your customized drink from diluc's shop (that even xiao doesn't know the recipe of!), you ask him if there's a customer who ordered your exact drink that morning.

strangely enough, he changes the subject.

“he only gave you coffee?” diluc wrinkles his nose. “he's not fit for you.”

he proceeds to shove you a plate of pancakes for breakfast and won't let you talk about that topic again.

kazuha:

the soft-spoken boy working part-time as a florist. as one would expect, his good-looking features attracted customers left and right, just like how a flower allures bees with its colorful petals and sweet nectar.

he studies in a different university from you, but it's relatively close by and you run into each other a lot. you could say you're pretty good friends; you exchanged contact information and text every other day, phone each other up to have a meal together whenever you're both free, and hang out over the weekend.

he stirred up some drama with you once. on a rainy day, he invited you to eat lunch together, but you've forgotten to take an umbrella before leaving for school so you told him you'd be a little late 'cause you had to run to the convenience store first. however, he told you not to worry about it and abruptly ended the call.

fast forward to the afternoon: the glass doors to leave the corridors had a few people lurking by, covering what was beyond. you cocked up an eyebrow in question, confused over what was all the fuss, but then you see that familiar pale hair streaked with bright red.

kazuha stood innocently by the school gates, a crimson umbrella in hand, and a small bouquet in the other. he checked his wristwatch every few minutes, seeming to be waiting for someone. he completely ignored the gawking stares pinned on his frame, busying himself by humming a quiet tune.

you hesitantly pushed open the doors, approaching him with wary steps. he immediately perked up once noticing you, beaming brightly to greet you with enthusiasm. he offered you the bouquet, telling you it's nothing more than a small gift the owner had let him craft for free (who mistakenly thought kazuha had a lover, since he was always on his phone texting someone).

you might have known the reasons behind the present, but nobody else did. and what general implications could gifting a bouquet of flowers have?

thus, the school's online forum exploded with questions, asking for the identity of the pretty boy standing by their university, and the lucky person he'd given flowers to.

needless to say it was hard to convince your friends that no, he isn't your boyfriend.

but that was another issue! the issue NOW is the other bouquet you received, much more recent in nature. after suspecting childe, your next thought was to ask kazuha if he had any buyers who purchased the same flowers you had.

his lips twitch for a moment, faintly looking displeased. but he flashes a flawless, award-winning customer service smile, covering his initial expression easily.

“no such customer ordered for those flowers that day. but i am curious about this matter... could you humor me and explain more in detail, by any chance?”

albedo:

the med student fawned over by students and teachers alike. he's simply brilliant, idolized by the entire student body. though he's mainly studying science, he's been praised for his art as well, his paintings hung in the art room proudly.

you're not very familiar with him, only knowing him through hearsay. you don't know what he looks like, so you've never confirmed for yourself if he's as beautiful everyone says he is.

he's well-known but you haven't heard anything bad about him, which is an impressive feat. his name is only ever mentioned in concert with endless compliments.

you meet him by chance in exam season. unsurprisingly, the library is filled to the brim, tables stacked high with books and each chair occupied by agitated students sipping energy drinks and coffee to stay functional. amidst all the chaos, one student remains radiant and carefree, leisurely flicking pages through his notes. he's situated by a corner table, unbothered by the mindless zombies despite having plenty of free seats beside him and everyone else is squished together like canned tuna.

and you, carrying binders, books and stationery, are visibly desperate for a place to rest. his eyes leave the words in his notes briefly, beckoning you to come closer. and you, still unaware of his identity, gladly plop on a chair and heave your heavy supplies atop the table. it shakes for a moment as it bears the new weight, rattling his items, and the zombies gape at you in question. ironically, the person you've been bothering is not offended at all.

you sneak glances at him when you need to freshen your eyes from studying, nauseated by the letters that never seem to come to an end no matter how many paragraphs you've read. you're at awe by his fair skin, not a single blemish in sight, and he doesn't even have dark circles under his eyes. truly mysterious. either he has a magical skincare routine or he's not human. if anything, you'd think he just came from a relaxing vacation, not in the middle of hell week.

you snap out of your trance, and you scold yourself for being bewitched. you have more pressing concerns, and so you grill more information into your brain, oblivious to the turquoise eyes that begin to stare at you.

the next encounter comes when exams are finally over, and you celebrate by buying the pricey food set in the cafeteria. the crunch of golden breading is rewarding for your taste buds and you shovel more food towards your mouth, minding your own business.

the seat next to you is pulled back, and you pause from chewing. it's that guy again, his refined beauty easy for you to recognize. he places his tray on the table, smiling amiably as he asks if it's fine with you should he sit there. you nod, but there's plenty of vacant tables around. it's also pretty weird that he sat next to you, not across...

well, strange as it is, that's how you befriend albedo. you've yet to learn why he came on so strong, almost aggressive. like he really wanted to talk to you. but whatever.

the more you learn about him, the more his image of “golden boy” withers away. picture of elegance? the standard of sophistication? sure. but this guy doesn't hesitate to do the weirdest shit sometimes.

he doesn't fear anything. he puts anything edible in his mouth. one school trip to the countryside taught you a few things. if he's offered fried bugs, he'll eat it. if he's given frog legs, he'll eat it. he doesn't care. he'll eat seemingly anything. because of this, you worry his admirers will put something strange in the food they give him, but that possibility doesn't cross his mind at all. (well. not that he eats it. he rejects gifts most of the time. exceptions are when they come from you.)

you're starting to think he really doesn't fear anything. when you start to scream in fright like a headless chicken while watching a horror movie, he calmly studies the anatomy of whatever horrifying creature is on screen, questioning their ability to walk when half of their body is split apart. why is he questioning horror movie logic. “ghosts are supposed to be transparent and can pass through walls, how come she can grab the main character's hair and drag him to the incinerator?” “albedo, please.” (he comforts you when you get scared, hiding your face in his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you. he softly whispers in your ear to tell you when the scary parts are over.)

he's also an overprotective older brother. for good reason, actually. his little sister, albeit cute and outwardly harmless, is an explosive child who likes to make trouble. if he takes his eyes off her for more than two minutes, she will undoubtedly set fire to his little garden.

she's the reason why he's so observant. he can tell you trimmed your hair because he's all too used to klee chopping off her own hair with craft scissors. he also notices when you feel a bit under the weather. klee is the type to hide her sickness so she could play outside, and albedo would often have to forcibly tuck her back to bed. you're no different. he will, quite literally, drag you to your house and make you rest.

but aside from being a pain in the ass, his observation skills can help you — surely albedo can make a few guesses for your secret admirer's identity?

albedo blinks at you, uncharacteristically silent. he purses his lips, and gives you a small smile. he asks a few unassuming questions, things like what traces your secret left behind, or if they'd sent a love letter and he'd check the penmanship to see if he found it familiar.

he's not the most eager to help, you know that, but you're still slightly disappointed when he says, “sorry, i can't help you with something like that. it'd be better if you figured it out yourself.”

thoma:

the cute neighbor living in the apartment next door. just like kazuha, he studies in a different university, but you run into each other a lot because... well. obviously.

you find him rather silly. he'd signed the lease not knowing pets weren't allowed in the premises, and tearfully waved taroumaru goodbye when he moved in. to cope, he started staying at the park near the apartment building, playing with the dogs there and getting hit on by their owners in the process, but let's not talk about that.

despite being a newcomer, he fit right in with the tenants. he made effort to learn everyone's names and chatted with them whenever presented a chance, thus winning their favor. it isn't a strange sight to see him with middle-aged ladies and looking at home, listening earnestly to their complaints about their husbands or rowdy children. (his hard work pays off when they give him their special recipes and inform him of supermarket deals lol)

he seems to get along well with old men too, invited to their drinking parties. except thoma isn't good at rejecting alcohol from older adults, so when you save him from such situation — pulling him away from the old men prying into his love life, because surely a good kid like him would have someone to love him dearly — he's become eternally grateful.

he's honestly too good for his own good.

exhibit a: thoma is prone to cooking too much food for one person to eat in one sitting, so he tends to invite you to eat his hotpot with him or bring you packaged food you can easily pop into a microwave. after your one act of goodwill, he's become strangely attached to you, pronouncing you best buds. he then admits he used to live with a larger group of people (hence his cooking habits), and he's thankful for your company. (you'd argue you're getting the better end of the deal, receiving free food like this)

exhibit b: he's always available to help you in your troubles. need a hand with heavy groceries? he's on his way! ran out of soy sauce? just wait a bit, he's gonna grab some from the cupboard! forgot your key inside your apartment? then stay at his place for the meantime before the locksmith comes! your shower isn't working well?... he promises he won't peek in the bathroom, so feel free to take a bath h a h a h a. need someone's opinion on what outfit to wear for a date? sure, he's- wait.

YOU'RE GOING ON A DATE?

his face twists weirdly as you showcase two different shirts, asking which one he likes better. you raise an eyebrow when he doesn't dare to utter a single word. “are they both bad?”

he blinks rapidly, then shakes his head laughing. he half-heartedly points to the shirt in your left hand, but you can tell he doesn't really think much of it. he excuses himself fairly quickly, saying he had chores to do, and scurried back to his own home.

(you were only going to a date with ayaka's older brother because she insisted you both needed a love life, but it's not like you actually feel anything for him.)

it doesn't end there. thoma acts weird sometimes. he's strangely cold when he sees you inviting kazuha to your apartment to hang out. he also stiffens when he spots xiao walking you home.

but by far, he acted the weirdest when your phone number called him, but when he answered, he heard a different voice respond.

it's childe, whom you went drinking with. he doesn't know where you live, and you're not nearly sober enough to return home on your own, and it's not like you'll agree to staying over childe's house. you also refuse telling him your address, so childe is left with no choices but to call for someone he knows.

he uses your fingerprint to unlock the password in your phone, heading straight for your contact list, and dialed thoma.

it doesn't take long for thoma to arrive where you are, panting after running for a while, and childe is almost impressed. thoma hoists you up and you obediently wrap your arms around him.

“sorry for the trouble. [name]'s dead drunk as you can see,” childe comments, chuckling to himself. thoma doesn't look amused and replies with, “it's no trouble at all. i'd be glad to help [name] anytime.”

then in a way that almost seems possessive, thoma leaves childe behind.

so now when you arrive home, bouquet in your arms, red dusting your features, thoma is displeased once more.

(yet he is envious of those who can freely profess their affections, because he's certain if he were to ever admit his feelings to you, things can never be the same.)

gorou:

you first suspected childe because you thought the bouquet of flowers was a joke, but if it wasn't and it was real with the intentions of sweeping you off your feet...

then you might have another suspect in mind.

gorou is... a funny guy. can you put it like that? you don't know what to think of him. he's nice, you already know that very well, kokomi's good friends with him and told you a few stories about him, all of which are sweet and amusing. your first impression of him was that of a pure-hearted boy that can do no wrong.

he's younger than you by a year, and kokomi was fairly excited when she first told you he would be attending the same university soon. she promised to introduce you to him in hopes you'd be friends as well.

and okay, you could get behind that. there's nothing wrong with meeting new people. gorou sounded like a great guy too, and it'd be nice to take care of someone younger. you've been coddled by your seniors the past year as a freshman, and you thought it would only be right if you did the same to the new batch of students.

so you attended the welcoming party kokomi dragged you into. it was just a small gathering to get the freshmen familiarize themselves with older students, and she told you you'd get to meet gorou there, her eyes carefully scanning the crowd in pursuit of a specific face.

just as you were reminiscing over the past where your sadistic seniors encouraged you to drink a lot in the last welcoming party, shuddering in fright, kokomi tapped your shoulder and gestured to the brown haired boy standing before you.

it must be him. per courtesy, your lips curled into a practiced smile, exuding an amicable air. kokomi briefly exchanged a few words with him, but it looked like she was doing all the talking, the male frozen in spot as if he'd seen something strange.

he stared at you blankly, eyes slightly widened, and you slowly became unnerved with his vacant gaze, your smile faltering. you made eye contact with kokomi, silently questioning her, but she gave a subtle shrug of her shoulders, also confused by his behavior.

then, completely out of everyone's expectations, he'd dropped to the floor.

gorou had knelt on the ground with one steady knee, solemn in his endeavors. in an instant, your hand was seized, fingers enclosed in his warm palm. his piercing stare was impassioned, sincere at its core. heat shot up to the tips of your ears.

“marry me!”

his voice resounded in the entire room, earning unwanted attention. the chatter halted immediately, all eyes dedicated to the spectacle that was the both of you, and your mind began to spin, cold sweat dripping down your forehead.

your voice was caught in your throat, not knowing what to say, and all you could formulate was a garbled string of incoherent mess. undeterred, the grasp on your hand was unrelenting, gorou committed through this act until the very end.

everyone was thinking the same thing: we haven't even started drinking yet, but this little guy is drunk already??

shameless. crazy. a head with loose screws. you're probably the only one who'd describe gorou that way.

but what kind of sane man would say that upon first meeting???

kokomi quickly tried to mediate the situation for him, pulling him away and patting his back to knock him out of his dazed stupor, and pushed you to the farthest corner.

she vouched for him when she saw your puzzled expression, thinking of him as a weirdo, and she insisted he's normally not that odd. she swears he was never interested in dating before, and she isn't sure what changed for him to... propose... all of a sudden... to you, who he'd barely seen for ten seconds, no less.

naturally, it feels strange for you to see him. after that disastrous encounter, gorou — who did feel embarrassment for what he did, horrified at his own impulsiveness — tried to make amends, backtracking steps (he skipped way too many and immediately went to propose lol) and treating you normally like a friend of a friend, slowly trying to make the atmosphere between you casual instead of a freezing blizzard that kills off the amicable mood.

in spite of all that, however, you do feel as if his feelings are actually genuine. he can be clumsy, and incredibly so, you don't know who else could propose to another person within a span of a minute meeting them for the first time, but he means well! you started off on the wrong foot, and maybe this bouquet of flowers is him trying to curry your favor... or something...

yet all he gives is a disbelieving look, and that's enough to provide a clear answer: it's not from him, and he's upset.

it,, probably wasn't a good idea to ask someone who likes you about another person who likes you.

but if it isn't him, who else could it be?!

drop your guesses in the comments but im pretty sure it's already obvious lol