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[nikkicola]

new blog :) putting nikkicola to rest <3

⋆⁺‧₊☽ "i love fictional men," nicki announced | 20 | she/her ☾₊‧⁺⋆

writing fanfics for fun; gi, hsr, jjk -> mdni, age in blog

masterlist

(blog under construction)

[nikkicola]

[Sinful Sunday] I loved how you write Wriothesley, so I was wondering if you could write something with him and the reader spending time together after hours?

Warnings: smut with plot, rough smut, pussy fingering, cunnilingus, semi-public, creampie, fem!reader, established relationship, possessive Wrio, Neuvilette being Neuvilette ^^

A/N: this request got the most votes during the second Sinful Sunday poll I held. Thank you to everyone who voted!

SINFUL SUNDAY GENSHIN IMPACT

You had met Wriothesley on a day like any other. The fortress was bustling with activity, guards patrolling, prisoners shuffling through their routines, and you, an administrator tasked with managing the endless paperwork that came with overseeing such a complex institution. Wriothesley, the Duke of Meropide, had always been a figure of authority and mystery, his presence commanding respect and admiration. His icy demeanor was formidable, yet there was a warmth that lurked beneath the surface, a warmth you had been fortunate enough to uncover.

It had started innocently enough. 

The fortress was not a place for personal connections, after all. But there was something about the way his eyes lingered on you, the way your breath caught whenever he was near.

Late nights in the office, poring over documents and case files, had led to shared cups of tea and quiet conversations. Wriothesley’s wit and intelligence had drawn you in, and before long, the lines between professional and personal had begun to blur. Tall, imposing, with piercing blue eyes and a demeanor as cold as the Cryo Vision he wielded, Wriothesley was a figure of both admiration and intimidation. Many women in the fortress — and beyond — would have given anything for a chance to be close to him, to break through the icy exterior and find the man beneath. 

It was during one such evening, months ago, that the tension had finally snapped. 

You had been in the middle of reviewing a particularly convoluted case file when Wriothesley appeared in your office doorway. 

He stood there, his presence commanding even in the subdued light, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "Working late again?" he asked, his voice a deep, resonant rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away from him. "There's just so much to do. These new cases —"

"Can wait," he interrupted, stepping into the room. "You've been pushing yourself too hard lately."

He moved closer, his gaze never wavering, and you felt a flutter of nervous anticipation. Wriothesley had always been distant, maintaining a strict professionalism that left little room for personal interaction. Yet tonight, there was something different in his eyes, something that hinted at a deeper, more complex emotion. "You should take a break," he repeated, his voice softer now, almost gentle.

You managed a small smile, though your pulse quickened at his proximity. "Easier said than done."

He was close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, the subtle scent of his cologne wrapping around you. The room seemed to shrink, the air thick with unspoken tension.

"Wriothesley," you began, unsure of what you were about to say, but he silenced you with a look.

"Do you ever stop to think about yourself?" he asked, his voice low and intense. "You're always taking care of everyone else, always working. When was the last time you did something for you?"

His words struck a chord, and you realized how little you had allowed yourself to relax, to simply be. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words died in your throat as he reached out, his rough hand cupping your cheek. "You deserve more," he whispered, his thumb brushing gently over your skin.

The touch was electric.

Without thinking, you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed. 

His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your lips met in a kiss that was both unexpected and utterly consuming. It was a kiss filled with months of pent-up desire, a kiss that spoke of all the things you had left unsaid.

He lifted you effortlessly, setting you on the edge of your desk, his body pressing against yours. The kiss deepened, growing more urgent, more desperate. His hands roamed over your body, exploring, claiming, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

"Wriothesley," you gasped when he finally broke the kiss, his lips trailing down the column of your neck, leaving a trail of burning kisses in their wake.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and teasing. "Tell me you don't want this."

But you couldn't. You didn't want him to stop. You wanted more — needed more. Your fingers tangled in his dark hair, pulling him closer, your body arching against his in a silent plea.

"Don't stop," you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "Please, don’t stop."

And this is how the affair began.

The moon hung high over the vast expanse of Fontaine, casting its silvery light over the pristine streets and ancient structures of the city. 

The dim, ethereal glow of the moonlight filtered through the frost-laden windows of the Fortress of Meropide, casting long shadows that danced and shifted across the cold stone floors. The fortress, cold and imposing by day, seemed almost intimate under the moon’s silver glow. 

The evening was quiet, save for the occasional distant clanking of chains or the muffled murmurs of guards on patrol. Deep within the labyrinthine corridors of the Meropide Fortress, the air was thick with an intensity that was palpable, even in the dead of night. This fortress, both a prison and a sanctuary, hummed with the quiet activities of its inhabitants. Among them, two souls found solace in the shadows, bound by a secret that thrummed like a heartbeat.

It wasn’t an unusual hour for some people to be working, but then again, the fortress itself was an unusual place.

Wriothesley sat at his desk, the flickering light of the lantern illuminating his rugged features. His eyes, sharp and intense, scanned over the documents spread out before him. The Duke of Meropide was a man of duty and resolve, his dedication to maintaining order within the prison unyielding. Yet tonight, his thoughts were not solely on the responsibilities that weighed heavily on his shoulders.

You sat across the room, engrossed in your own work. 

The reason for the extended hours was legitimate enough — a particularly troublesome inmate required constant monitoring, and both of you had taken it upon yourselves to ensure the situation remained under control. No one questioned why you, an administrator with a keen eye for detail, would stay late into the night. And no one questioned why Wriothesley himself would remain long after most had retired to their quarters.  

It had been months since the two of you first met.

As the clock ticked past midnight, you pushed back from your desk and stretched, the movement drawing Wriothesley's attention. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze dark and smoldering as it roamed over you. "Tired?" he asked, his voice oh so low.

"A little," you admitted, getting up from your desk, and crossing the room to stand before him. "But I don't mind. It's nice to have some quiet time to get things done." 

“Need a break?” Wriothesley asked, his voice nothing but a soft rumble.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “I think we both do.”

With a swift movement, his hand reached out, capturing your wrist and pulling you gently towards him, and onto his lap, his arms encircling your waist. The heat of his body against yours was intoxicating, and you couldn’t suppress the shiver of anticipation that ran through you. Wriothesley’s hands roamed over your back, his touch firm and possessive. He tilted your chin up, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

"We shouldn't..." you began, but your words trailed off as his lips found the sensitive spot on your neck, pressing a kiss that made you melt against him.

"We should," he countered, his voice a husky whisper against your skin. “I can’t help it. I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

His hands roamed over your body, deftly unfastening the buttons of your crisp white shirt. With a practiced touch, he pushed the fabric off your shoulders, revealing your soft skin to his hungry eyes. You could feel the intensity of his gaze, the way his eyes filled with desire as he cupped your breasts, still cradled in your lacy white bra, fondling them with his rough, impatient hands.

"I missed you too," you chuckled softly, your fingers weaving through his dark locks as you drew him nearer. "But we've spent the whole day together already," you pointed out.

A wry grin crept across his lips. "True, but I couldn't touch you the way I wanted."

The kiss that followed was anything but gentle. It was a desperate, hungry clash of lips and tongues, a collision of need and longing that had been building for hours. 

You rose from his lap, hoisting the hems of your skirt up to provide yourself with more comfortable movements. Then, slowly, deliberately, you straddled his lap, your movements purposeful as you seated yourself comfortably. You ground your clothed pussy against the growing bulge in his pants.

"Fuuuuck," he growled, his voice low and guttural. His hands slid further under your skirt, finding the bare skin of your thighs and gripping them possessively.

With a deft movement, he lifted you onto the desk, the documents scattering to the floor, forgotten in the heat of the moment. His mouth never left yours as he positioned himself between your legs, dry humping against your pussy, his hands pulling you closer, anchoring you to him as his mouth trailed open mouthed kisses up your exposed neck.

You could feel his dick hardening within his dark gray pants, hard and insistent against you.  "Wrio," you gasped, your head falling back as his lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. 

He silenced you with another kiss, his mouth trailing down your neck soon after, leaving a trail of burning kisses in its wake. His hands found the clasp of your bra, deftly undoing it and slipping the stripes down your shoulders, his touch sending shivers down your spine. 

"Someone might hear..."

"Let them," he growled, his voice a mixture of command and need. "I don't fucking care."

His hands were everywhere, caressing, teasing, igniting fires wherever they touched. You arched against him, your body aching for more, for everything. 

Wriothesley leaned in, his eager mouth enveloping one of your hardened nipples, drawing it into the heat of his mouth. 

The sensation made you instinctively arch your back, a loud moan escaping your lips. “Oh, for the glory of Hydro Archon! Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you begged.

His tongue flicked around your hardened bud, sending jolts of pleasure through your body as he sucked on it hungrily. Meanwhile, his free hand fondled your other breast, teasing and caressing it with skilled precision. At the same time, his other hand, unoccupied but not idle, pushed against your left knee, urging you to part your legs wider for him. 

You complied eagerly, granting him the access he craved.

As you spread your legs wider, he pressed the heel of his rough hand against your clothed pussy, rubbing you through your panties. The Duke pressed the heel of his rough hand against your clothed pussy, rubbing you through your panties. To his delight, he discovered a damp spot forming in the middle of the fabric, a clear indication of your heightened arousal. “Look at you, little one,” he mused, "You're already so wet for me. Mmmm, I can already smell your sweet scent. Look at what you're doing to me, Y/N," he exclaimed, gesturing toward his tented pants as he released your nipple from his mouth with a loud pop sound.

Finally, Wriothesley took a step back, lowering himself to kneel on the cool marble floor between your legs.  His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wider as he settled himself between them, his broad shoulders keeping your legs firmly in place, preventing them from closing. He pushed the material of your panties aside, exposing your pretty pussy to his hungry eyes, your folds glistening with arousal. Leaning in, he inhaled your scent deeply, like a predator savoring its prey, and let out a low growl. "Mmmmm, fuuuuck, that's what I've been craving all day long."

With a slow, deliberate motion, he leaned in and pressed his mouth against your glistening folds. His tongue darted out, and Wriothesley began with a teasing flick of his tongue, running it lightly along your folds, just enough to make you shiver with anticipation. He lingered at your entrance, tracing slow, deliberate circles around it with the tip of his tongue, savoring the way your body responded to his touch. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he delved deeper, his tongue pressing against your clit in a firm, tantalizing stroke.

He alternated between long, languid licks and quick, teasing flicks, his mouth exploring every inch of your cunny with a hunger that left you breathless. He sucked gently on your clit, rolling it between his lips, then released it with a soft pop, only to dive back in, his tongue moving with an expert precision that had you writhing beneath him.

As his mouth worked its magic, his fingers joined in the fray, sliding one, then two digits inside you, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot that made stars burst behind your closed eyelids. He pumped his fingers in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue, his movements growing more urgent as he felt you tightening around him.

"You taste so good," he murmured between licks, his voice thick with desire. "I could do this all night."

He sucked harder on your clit, his tongue lapping at you with increasing fervor. He nipped at your folds, the slight edge of pain only heightening your pleasure, making you gasp and arch your back as you lay your upper body flat on his desk. His growls of satisfaction sent vibrations through your core, adding to the mounting pleasure building inside you.

Your hands clung to him, fingers tangling in his hair as you rode the waves of sensation. He seemed to know exactly what you needed, adjusting his pace and pressure, his tongue darting and swirling with a skill that left you trembling.

Wriothesley reveled in the power he had over you, the way your body responded so eagerly to his touch.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub as he applied just the right amount of pressure. 

You moaned loudly, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him to continue as you slowly ground your pussy against his face, even though your legs were shaking at the moment as pleasure became unbearable. 

His hands roamed up your body, one of them moving up your body to knead your breast while the other stayed firm on your thigh, keeping you spread open for him. He moved his tongue lower, dipping it into your entrance, tasting you deeply before returning to your clit. “My mother taught me to always finish my goddamn food, so forgive me, doll, but respectfully I don’t give a shit if your legs are shaking. And don’t try to crawl away.”

You could feel the tension building within you, the coil tightening with every flick of his tongue, every suck, every nip, every thrust of his fingers. 

Wriothesley's fingers moved with relentless intensity, plunging in and out of your drenched pussy, each thrust creating wet, lewd sounds that echoed throughout the room. His mouth was equally fervent, his tongue lapping at your folds, his hums of satisfaction blending with the obscene noises. The combination of his skilled fingers and eager tongue drove you wild.

When you finally came, it was with a cry of his name, your body trembling as the wave of pleasure crashed over you. 

He didn't stop, his tongue continuing its relentless assault, drawing out your orgasm until you were left breathless and spent. Only then he looked up at you after, his lips glistening with your arousal, a satisfied smirk on his face. "That's my good, good girl," he praised.

Finally, after he had drunk in every last drop of your cum, Wriothesley moved up, his mouth leaving your throbbing core. 

He stood and began unbuttoning his dark shirt, revealing the hard lines of his muscular chest and well-defined abs. His fingers moved deftly to his leather belt, unbuckling it and then opening his fly with deliberate slowness. He pushed his uniform pants low enough to free his rock-hard cock, which twitched at the sight of your messy, disheveled state laid out before him.

Taking hold of his cock, he stroked it slowly a few times, making sure to coat it with your wetness that was previously coating his fingers, spreading the slickness from the tip to the base of his throbbing member. 

The sight of it only made you more desperate for him. 

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice a rough whisper filled with desire. "So ready for me." He positioned himself between your legs, his eyes dark with desire.

He pulled you by your legs, positioning you at the edge of the desk, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. His hands gripped your hips, his touch firm and possessive as he lined himself with you. 

You could feel the hard head of his cock, sticky with precum, pressing against your entrance, a promise of what was to come.

With one swift, powerful motion, he entered you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that left you gasping for breath. He set a steady, intense rhythm, his hips driving into you with a force that made your whole body shudder.

Wriothesley's grip on your hips was firm, his eyes locked onto yours as he fucked you, the connection between you deep and primal. The wet sounds, the slap of skin against skin, and his low, guttural moans filled the room, a symphony of raw, unrestrained passion. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, your body responding eagerly to his, the pleasure building until it was almost too much to bear.

"You're mine," he growled, his pace quickening, his thrusts becoming more urgent. "Only mine."

"Yes," you moaned, your fingers digging into his broad shoulders. "Only yours, Wrio!"

He moved faster, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding, driving you to the brink of madness. The tip of his cock kissed your cervix with each of his thrusts.

You cried out his name, your body trembling with the force of your pleasure, your mind lost in a haze of sensation.

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmured, his lips pressing against your ear. “So perfect for me.”

“Wrio,” you gasped, your voice a plea and a promise. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. 

The world outside ceased to exist; it was just you and him, lost in a moment of pure ecstasy.

He thrust harder, his movements becoming frantic, his need for you overwhelming. “My little cockslut. My personal fucking whore,” he snarled through clenched teeth. A bead of sweat formed on his temple and rolled down his perfectly shaped cheek.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you matched his thrusts, lifting and lowering your hips, moaning like a bitch in heat.

Wriothesley was the first to reach his peak, his thrusts growing more urgent and sloppy as he neared his release. With a deep, guttural growl, he spilled his thick seed deep inside you, the hot flood filling you completely. His body shuddered with the force of his climax, his grip on your hips tightening as he emptied himself into you. “Oh, fuuuuuuck yeah, fuck yeah,” the dark-haired man growled, gently spanking your clit with his hand a few times.

The sensation of his cum filling you and his continuous assault on your pussy pushed you over the edge. You came moments later, your inner walls clenching rhythmically around his dick, massaging his shaft as if trying to milk it dry of every last drop of his precious cum. The intensity of your orgasm made you cry out, your body trembling and your nails digging into his shoulders as waves of pleasure crashed over you. The rhythmic contractions of your pussy around his cock sent aftershocks through both of you, prolonging the ecstasy of the moment. 

He held you close, his breath ragged, his body covered in sweat. 

For a moment, you stayed like that, his cock still buried in your hot, drenched pussy. 

Then, slowly, he pulled away, a grin spreading across his lips as he marveled at how his cum dripped out of you, forming a small puddle on the floor right under his desk. "Perfect," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You’re absolutely fucking perfect. Fuck. I'll never get enough of this," he murmured, running a hand through his messy bangs in an attempt to make himself presentable again. 

He wiped his cock with a paper towel he pulled from his desk drawer, then adjusted his trousers and buttoned his shirt, leaving the last three buttons open to cool down himself faster.

Suddenly, you both heard footsteps approaching, growing louder with each step. 

Panic set in as you jumped off the desk, hastily helping Wriothesley gather the scattered documents. You quickly began buttoning your shirt, realizing too late that your bra was missing. Glancing at Wriothesley, you saw it in his hands. He gave you a mischievous look and tucked your bra into his pants pocket, flashing you a devilish grin. “You need to work for it.”

"You're unbelievable, you bastard," you whispered, shaking your head as you hurriedly pulled your skirt back into place and adjusted your panties.

Just as you managed to sit back at your desk, there was a brief knock to the door. 

Before Wriothesley could respond, the door opened to reveal none other than Neuvillette, the Iudex of Fontaine himself. He gave you a polite nod, which you returned with a slight bow, struggling to maintain a composed expression. Your thoughts were consumed by the cold, damp sensation of your panties, soaked with both your juices and Wriothesley's cum.

"Good evening," Neuvillette said, his voice formal and detached.

Wriothesley, ever the picture of composed authority, straightened up and addressed Neuvillette, his demeanor cool and collected. "What brings you here at this hour?"

Neuvillette's eyes scanned the room before settling on Wriothesley. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important," he said, his tone as formal as ever.

"Not at all," Wriothesley replied smoothly, straightening up as he slowly improved his shirt, giving you a look. "We were just wrapping up some paperwork."

Neuvillette's gaze lingered on Wriothesley for a moment longer than necessary, a hint of suspicion flickering in his eyes. "I see," he replied, his tone still formal but with a subtle edge to it.

You felt a flush creeping up your neck as you tried to compose yourself, your heart hammering in your chest. You were certain Neuvillette could sense something was off, but to your relief, he didn't comment on your flushed cheeks or the way your breaths came out in uneven puffs.

"Very well," Neuvillette said finally, breaking the tension with a polite smile. "I won't keep you any longer. I brought some documents for you to go through. I trust everything is under control here?"

Wriothesley nodded, his own smile strained. "Of course, everything is in order."

With a final nod, Neuvillette took his leave, the door closing behind him with a soft click. 

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, the tension draining from your body as you exchanged a relieved glance with Wriothesley. "That was close," you murmured, grateful for the near-miss.

Wriothesley chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Too close for comfort. We'll have to be more careful in the future. Even though I wouldn’t mind having an audience.”

You shook your head in disbelief. This man had some nerves! Then, you returned to your work, knowing that come morning, you would return to your roles, to the pretense of professionalism. But for now, in the quiet sanctuary of his office, you were his, and he was yours, if only for a fleeting, precious moment, away from prying eyes and probing questions.

tags: @crystalwolfblog @shonen-brainrot @mun-in-rain

[nikkicola]

"I'm so tired," he whispers into your hair as he holds you close, arms tightening around your waist as you lay together on the bed. "Exhausted even."

"Sleep baby," you whisper back, a soft smile gracing your lips as your fingers run through his hair gently. "You've already done enough."

And just like that, the peaceful ebb and flow of the ocean waves lull you both to sleep.

"Rest."

[nikkicola]

// genshin 4.2 spoilers (?) //

.

.

not to sound anxious but can we skip to the archon quest already or.....

[nikkicola]

trick or treat etc etc

[nikkicola]

how i love being single

[nikkicola]

breathless

dan heng x gn!reader

what we all secretly wished for when dan heng was about to give us cpr. he's kinda ooc here but enyo is in her delulu phase tonight lol.

content under the cut | masterlist

and in a flash of light, the darkness was gone. your eyes flew open and a strangled sound left your locked-up lips. wait a second... what exactly was going on? you found a face dangerously close to yours, only seeing a pair of eyelashes and the raven strands of hair that tickled your forehead. but what shocked you the most was the fact that a set of soft lips was pressed against yours, and the dots connected. you lifted your hands and firmly pushed away the body that hovered over you.

the stranger shot back with a surprised yelp, grey eyes wide with shock as the male gazed at you. he was handsome, strikingly so. so much that your heart skipped a beat. but the shaken guy quickly regained his composure, exchanging his surprise with a level of calmness.

     "oh, you're awake," he commented.

     "yep," you nodded, eyeing him suspiciously. "say, do you always randomly kiss people you find knocked out somewhere?"

     "i figured you needed cpr," the raven-haired male explained dryly. "you weren't breathing when i found you."

you reached out, the pads of your fingertips grazing your lips. even though it was for the sake of keeping you alive, this handsome guy just kissed you. you were vaguely aware that you didn't know where in the world you were, or even knew as much as your name. your mind was blank, yet the only thing that concerned you was the so-called kiss.

     "in that case, thank you," you solemnly said. "i guess i owe you."

     "no you don't," the guy shook his head. "it's only natural that i did it."

a small idea formed in your mind, and you smiled slightly. okay, maybe it was important to figure out who and where you were, but with a handsome guy still halfway hovering over you, you couldn't help it. you blamed it on the fact that everyone else was erased from your mind, only the extremely soft and kisseable lips of this guy lingering among your thoughts.

     "so if i stopped breathing, would you do it again?" you asked innocently.

     "you're not even going to ask where you are and who i am?" the male asked in disbelief. "you just... ask me to do... that again?"

     "okay... who are you and where am i?" you questioned, only because he seemed like he wouldn't give in before you did so.

     "my name is dan heng," the male replied. "and you're aboard herta's space station. but again, are you asking me to..."

     "yes, dan heng, that's what i'm asking," you nodded.

to emphasize your words, you jokingly stopped breathing and gave the handsome guy a challenging look. would he fall for it? would he indulge in this moment you kinda shared? you had no idea, and the male was quite hard to read. but then he heaved out a small sigh, closing his eyes and getting rid of the distance between you once more. his lips touched yours, and you couldn't help but smile.

it was tentative and calculated, but it was much more a kiss and less cpr. the first one was brief, a chaste meeting of your lips. but the one that followed lingered, your still lips tasting each other before you decided to be brave and move against him. he went along with it, catching you by surprise once more. though it was still careful, the kiss you shared deepened, and butterflies erupted in your stomach. it didn't go any further than that, but that was okay. and aeons, dan heng was a good kisser. you had no idea what happened before the dark void of amnesia trapped you, but your first memory after waking up would be his lips on yours.

way too soon for your liking, he pulled back, raking a hand through his hair. you looked at him with wide eyes as you attempted to catch your breath, but it was obvious that this male's kissing skills had left you breathless. dan heng was obviously affected just as much, though he tried to maintain his stoic composure. still, he reached out his arm and offered you his hand in order to help you up.

you gladly took his offer and he pulled you to your feet. he caught your gaze and held it for a moment that felt like eternity. a lot was going on behind his eyes, and little did you know that all his current thoughts revolved around you. he cleared his throat, not letting go of your hand even as he spoke up again.

     "it's time to bring you to asta."

and with that, you two left the small room you were in, carrying with you a secret only the two of you would ever know about.

[nikkicola]

Imagine early mornings with Kaveh, cuddled under the sheets of your bed, your back to his chest. He's the kind of person who tangles himself around you as he sleeps— so much so that by the time you wake up, it's near impossible to discern where he starts and you end.

His legs are tangled with yours. Face buried to your neck, breathing in the smell of you even as he sleeps and making goosebumps rise wherever his breath hits. Kaveh's hands are around your middle, protectively pulling your back into his embrace in a comfortable but sturdy hold. One of his hands is intertwined with yours, pressing your own palm against your stomach. You can feel the rumble in his chest as he adorably snores.

As you slowly wake with the sun in your eye, your hand goes up behind you to tangle in Kaveh's messy, blond rat nest of hair, scratching at his scalp in a way that's reminiscent of petting a dog. He grumbles, trying to bury his face further into your skin.

"'aveh," comes your sleep-addled mumble. He says nothing.

"Kaveh." The hands resting on your stomach pull a little tighter— just enough that his rough callouses tickle a little.

"Lemme up a bit. Wanna face you."

He grumbles again, sounding just a bit more coherent than the first time. After a little bit, the grip around your waist loosens just a smidge and your hand that he's been holding captive is released. It's just enough room for you to scooch and turn so you're chest-to-chest, and so that you can meet his half-lidded, sleepy gaze.

Kaveh's voice is still raspy from sleep, and it's clear he's seconds away from nodding off again. "Better?"

"Mhm," you say, cozying back up to him, shoving your head under his chin to nose at the skin of his neck. He doesn't protest— if anything, the arms that had been so loose around you tighten once more, holding your close to him, like it is a burden to be too far from you.

Kaveh still smells good, even when he's barely woken up. And he's warm, too— just enough to try and lull you back to sleep without making you uncomfortably sweaty. You suppose it's one of your favorite things about falling asleep beside him. That, and the soft ache in your heart whenever you have these sweet moments with him.

Kaveh presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, voice tapering as he begins to fall asleep. His arms squeeze around you, just once, like he means to hold you tight and never let go. "Goodnight, beloved."

"Good morning, you mean."

"Mm. Good morning. Love you," he says, and it is the last thing you hear before you fall asleep once more.

[nikkicola]

jealous? me?

feat. al haitham

☆ in which your boyfriend will not admit to being envious

warnings/notes: al haitham may be ooc =w=), there is just some Random Guy you can fill in, usual typos </3

al haitham is not the jealous type. he isn’t. 

he feels it's pointless, to be up in arms about what his partner does. he trusts you well enough, and no one dares to flirt with you when they know you're taken by the akademiya's very own scribe. no one has the desire to be at the receiving end of his cold, steady glare, not when it makes even the haughtiest of scholars want to hide behind their heavy books.

he has no logical reason to be jealous‐ even if he doesn't see you for a while, with your respective responsibilities keeping you busy- and even if he silently misses you every moment you're away, he has no reason to be jealous of the few people who get to hog your attention. 

just like he has no reason to see someone else in his seat at lambad's tavern.

al haitham isn't the jealous type. he isn’t.

but he can't help but feel irritated when someone else is in a spot he belongs. this is one of the many differences between you and the scribe: you're no pushover, but you're kind. when someone starts a conversation with you, you smile back at them and listen to what they have to say. that's what he imagines happened here, when someone else has claimed a spot across from you, greedily taking in the sound of your voice and the warmth of your laughter. if it were him, he'd simply ignore the person, deemed irrelevant by a mere glance in their direction. if only his habit had rubbed off on you. 

the man is vaguely familiar. al haitham is never one to remember faces he deems irrelevant, but he recognizes the shrill, incessantly loud voice as the man across from you downs his drink. dual-toned eyes squint, and a flash of anger trails all the way down to his fingertips. an akademiya scholar. typical.

he clicks his tongue, and in big, heavy steps al haitham walks to stand behind you.

you look up at him from your seat, and as you smile the scribe can feel his own lips turning upwards without realizing it. it's brief, barely noticeable if you weren't paying attention to the slight twitch at the corners of his mouth, but it’s there, just for you, and it warms your heart. the man across from you does not share your happiness at al haitham's arrival. if you weren't busy staring at your boyfriend's face, whose strong features appear so, so soft under the tavern's lights, you'd see the way the scholar gawks in surprise at seeing his superior stand tall, looming over him. 

you call his name softly in greeting, a blessing to his ears. he missed your voice. he loves the sound of it- how it has his heart sputtering against his chest as if trying to get closer to you. there's a pang of guilt that makes the rapid beating feel heavy, though, when he realizes his work had kept you waiting for him all alone. or at least you were all alone.

the faint embers of his smile are smothered when he pulls up a seat beside you. the warmth is gone when you leave his vision, and all that remains is a stifling cold. the scribe wields a dendro vision, but in that moment the scholar looks like he'd been sent a beam of ice in his direction, freezing an awkward smile to his face and sending small shivers down his spine. he barely acknowledged the man before, but now that he's the sole focus of his attention, eyes boring twin targets into his skull, the scholar wishes he could shrink to the size of a crystalfly and flutter away.

“a-acting grand sage al haitham!” chirps the poor man seated across from you, seemingly sobered out by the his piercing glare, “i-i was just-”

“i don’t particularly care what you were doing,” al haitham says with crossed arms, “but i’d appreciate it if you’d leave us to our date.”

you stare, wide-eyed at him. the scholar across from you looks like he was slapped upside the head with the blunt of your own scholar’s words. you see the man scramble, looks of anger, disbelief, and shock twitching across his face like he had been stunned. his mouth opens and closes, as if begging words to form on his tangled tongue. 

“i wasn’t- i didn’t know-”

“well, now you do.”

and you smack your boyfriends arm, a silent sign to please ease off the poor guy.

the scholar huffs, standing up from his seat and walking away on wobbly, drunken legs. 

al haitham isn't the jealous type. he isn’t.

but he can’t help the swell of pride in his chest, and the near smirk that falls onto his lips at his victory. because now, there’s nothing in the way. no work to be done, no insistent scholars bidding for his attention, and no drunk scholar’s hogging all of yours.

“that was so unnecessary,” you chide, “he was only being friendly.”

his small smile sinks. was he too harsh? was that a friend of yours? did he overstep? he almost never finds himself overthinking, but he can’t help the sudden flurry of thoughts that float about in his mind. 

“would you prefer to spend time with him and not me?”

you pause, blinking at him. you take in the slight bitterness in his tone, the way his eyes refuse to meet your own, and the way he seems just a few inches away from scowling. you kiss his cheek to smooth the would-be sour expression away. 

“of course not. you’re cute when you’re jealous, i’ll give you that.” his skin is soft against your palms as you brush over his opposite cheek. the stone-cold scribe finds himself leaning into your touch out of habit. “still, you could’ve waited, at least.”

“i’m not jealous.” the statement is matter-of-fact. it’s in his usual flat tone, and no emotion coats the surface of his words. but you've learned to see past the surface with him, and he says his words just a touch too quick to be convincing. you chuckle at his attempt to hide his feelings— he can never seem to do that very well around you —and you receive a half-hearted glare in return.

he leans forward to give you a kiss of his own— it's short, quick enough that bypassers will miss the sweet tap of his lips against yours, but it warms you all the same. 

"i'm not," he insists, "i have no reason to be. drunk scholars are of no threat to me."

when you hum against his skin, he knows there's no chance of you believing him. 

"so it's okay if i invite him back?" 

al haitham is not the jealous type. he isn’t. 

but he isn’t immune to the feeling, he supposes. he holds you just a bit tighter within the bar, savoring the time spent with you. all for himself, without anyone in the way.

══════◄••❀••►══════

hiiii thank you for reading!! this was my very first request, i hope i did it justice >_>) !!

[nikkicola]

Five More Minutes

Summary: Mornings are a pain, aren't they? So let Alhaitham hold you for just five more minutes, won't you? Word Count: 1.3k Tags: Fluff, Slight Crack, Established relationship (reader x husband!alhaitham), very slight spoilers for the archon quest + his story quest A/N: i can't get alhaitham out of my brain honestly

“Haitham, habibi, let go…”

“Mmnh… Not yet…”

“The sun’s already up. I’ll be late if you don’t let me go, Haitham…” 

There’s no life to your words; anyone would be just as unenthused about having to go to work. You're not a stranger to the way you just want to melt back into the bed and ignore your responsibilities, especially when you had work and he, didn't.

Though, it seems like he's upset about that fact, too. Your weak complaints barely even make it into Alhaitham's ears with how tightly he’s hugging you against him. They're muffled against the flesh of his skin as he holds you like one would a beloved stuffed toy. Either he's sleeping deeply, or he's outright ignoring you in favour of holding you a little while longer.

With his arm acting as your pillow and your legs tangled beneath the sheets, you’ve honestly never felt more comfortable in your life. The air was light and cool, and the silk sheets felt heavenly on your skin. Truthfully, you still weren’t too sure if you were awake or if this was all just a dream. It’s been rather disorienting after the truth of the use of the Akasha terminals had come to light. 

Eyes still bleary with sleep, you struggle to catch a glimpse of your lover past the shadows of the muscles that were caging you in. All you manage to catch is the way that the sunlight was filtering through your windows. Past your curtains and into the room, they bathe your shared bedroom in a soft morning glow. You can’t see it, but you can feel the rays that lap at your skin and his, mimicking the warmth of melted butter and lightly toasted marshmallows and everything good and well in this world. 

“Five more…” you hear him mumble, arms tightening around you as he pulls you even closer towards him. The smell of his body wash is nothing short of home. “God, just five more minutes…”

It didn’t sound like he was talking to you. His eyes were barely even open. A clingy Alhaitham was something you hadn’t expected when you had first begun dating, but you weren’t about to complain. It was endearing. Sweet. If you didn’t have work, you’d melt back into his embrace and mould yourself against him in an instant. 

“I have work, Haitham.”

“So?”

Spoken like a true linguist.

“Not all of us can escape it as easily as you can,” you mumble, trying to fight him off amidst the haze of your mind.

It’s a pathetic attempt. Between your heavy limbs and your desire to stay in for just a little while longer, all you manage to do is run a palm across his broad shoulders, lightly patting at his biceps in hopes that he did the work instead of poor, sleepy you. He doesn’t. He cages you in and locks you down. Alhaitham does shift, but only to roll on top of you. To trap you underneath him, pinning you down with his weight. 

As much as you like to complain, the weight of him is more of a comfort than a hindrance.

“Don’t go in,” he mumbles, lips moving against the pulse of your neck as he inhales deeply. The hair on your skin stands, and you squirm at the brush of air against the slope of your neck. “They haven’t accepted my resignation yet, have they? Tell them I allowed it.”

That makes you laugh a little. You can even feel a corner of his lip quirk up when you do.

“Are you abusing your authority?”

“If Azar could do it, why can’t I?” He says, always quick with his words. They’re raspy and soft in your ear, filled with unadulterated affection. He noses into your neck. “It’s not like I’m trying to build a God.”

“Yeah, you’re trying to flatten me instead.”

You hear him grumble atop you. “No I’m not.”

Resigned to your fate, you stay still for a while more, content to be drifting in and out of consciousness. There wasn’t much to do today, anyway. Coming in a little later than usual would be fine. If your hard-working lover wanted five more minutes, who were you not to give him that temporary period of peace?

You’re not sure how long you’ve been laying there, but eventually, you hear Alhaitham’s breathing start to even out.

So you nudge him.

“What?” He grumbles, voice laced with sleep. Almost like a disgruntled child, Alhaitham buries his face deeper against you as you tap his arm weakly once more. 

“I’m serious. I need to go to work. It's been five minutes.”

“No.”

“Haitham.”

“I’ll cover for you.” You can hear his hand patting around the bed, searching yours out, interlinking your fingers when he’s successful. His lips brush over your collarbone as they begin peppering sloppy kisses against the exposed skin, clustering them over one spot. “Won’t get you in trouble. Promise.”

He squeezes your hand, lifting his head just enough to catch your eye.

“Stay in with me for the day?”

Well... He asked really nicely.

Arms moving to wrap around his back, it’s your turn to pull him close before sleep could whisk you away once more. 

Extra:

The house is flooded with the aroma of spices, simmering meat, and caramelised onions. 

You wake to an empty bed, the sun high up in the sky. Whatever warmth that once lingered on the other side of the bed was now gone; replaced. You’d never understand how he always manages to get out of the most convoluted positions without waking you up in the process. 

“Haitham?” You call out. His earpieces are still on the bedside table and the curtains were still drawn. You can hear the stove turn off, just rooms away from you. Just barely, there’s the sound of utensils being set down and crockery being moved. 

Rubbing your eyes as you slip out of bed, you stumble out of the bedroom. Sleep still beckons you into her loving embrace, but you fight against it to find your husband in the kitchen.

“Habibti,” you hear him greet just somewhere in front of you, as you bumble your way towards him. It smelled delicious. A few dishes are already set on the dining table.

“Careful,” he whispers, pulling, and tucking you into his chest. Soaking in his warmth feels like being set in an oven, a non-existent timer ticking down to the second you’d inevitably have to part. Until then, you live in the moment and enjoy what life has to offer. What Haitham has to offer. 

And he has so much.

Little symbols are traced into your back, letters spelling words in different languages that you’ve learnt were variations of mine, mine, mine. 

“Don’t go falling back asleep on me now,” he croons, lightly poking you when he notices your eyes starting to droop. “It’s almost one in the afternoon.”

Had you slept for that long? 

His fingers pause.

“Love?”

“Hmm?”

“Why aren’t you at work?”

“You told me to stay in with you,” you mumble, reluctantly pulling away to look up at him. Messy grey bangs frame his face, and you brush them aside. 

His eyes twinkle with affection; and mirth. 

“Hm. Did I?”

It takes a while for his words to settle in, but when they do, panic seizes your chest upon the thought that you might have really dreamt that up. You jerk away from him, adrenaline thrumming through your veins as you grip his arms. 

The facade breaks. His lips curl up.

Alhaitham laughs at your expression, squeezing your side and pulling you in despite your silent protests to press his lips to the crown of your head. “I’m kidding. I had a letter sent in just now.” 

You smack his arm. “It’s not funny!”

“It’s pretty funny,” he pecks your temple. “Brush your teeth and join me for lunch. I made your favourites.”

A/N: i don't think its possible for me to ever shut up about alhaitham anymore

©shiinleaf Do not plagiarise, use, translate and/or share my content outside of Tumblr in any way, shape, or form. Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated if you enjoyed!

[nikkicola]

𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌 | 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘

cw/ tw. modern au. gamer!alhaitham, fem!reader, mild enemies to lovers, fluff

an. my first Alhaitham fic, and it's not even smutty hehe

You’ve been with Alhaitham for as long as you can remember—just as he was coming up in fame. It’s weird how you’d once hardly been able to stand in the same room as him, and now you’re there for every one of his tournaments.

He’s talking to his fans, his contagious laughter filling the room at whatever he’s reading on the screen. And you smile, thinking of that time similar to this one. 

Except… you’d been glaring at your computer screen, ignoring his presence altogether. You’d felt slightly annoyed that your boss assigned you to work (on your one day off, no less) with the obnoxious man speaking to a webcam beside you. 

It wouldn’t be your first time admitting that you hated becoming the assistant to one of the most popular streamers in the gaming industry. Don’t get it wrong, he’s been nice to you the past six months, but you can’t get over how reckless he is.

You still get chills thinking about all the fans you had to fight off when he’d decided to go to a new restaurant after posting about it on social media minutes prior. The smell of cheap perfume and lotions has yet to come out of your clothes, no matter how many times you’ve washed them. 

For all of his attention to detail, he’s absolutely careless. 

Alhaitham’s crazy fanbase is one of the reasons he needed an assistant in the first place, someone to help run the small errands he couldn’t go in public and do by himself—and, unfortunately, you were the one chosen for the job.

At first, you thought it was all a ruse to boost the ego of an amateur celebrity. But that was before you’d met him. 

Now you can no longer deny that he isn’t anything to strike home about—not that you’d openly admit it. There are times when you catch yourself becoming mesmerized by the flecks of gold in his turquoise irises or stumbling over your words when he gives you one of his crooked smiles.

You’re sure he’s aware of his slight effect on you, sometimes bringing up your flushed face when Alhaitham would stand too close or compliment your outfit just to watch you look away shyly—it’s almost like he finds joy in teasing you.

And you hate him for it—

“Cool, I think I’ll try that ramen shop tomorrow night, glim174.” Alhaitham leans back in his chair, stretching and running a hand through his messy, short hair. “Okay, guys, it’s time to sign off. I should be on Thursday night around five, though.”

He finishes answering a few paid chats and thanking his mods before he finally ends the stream with a sigh. 

You close your laptop, too, ready to go home after sitting on an uncomfortable metal stool for four hours. “You need to stop telling them personal stuff about your life,” you tell him as you pack your things into your backpack. “I didn’t sign up to be your bodyguard, you know.”

He swivels in his gaming chair to face you, rolling his eyes. “You need to lighten up a bit, princess. Plus, it makes me more relatable when I talk about things other than games. Isn’t that what you and PR are always shoving down my throat?”

You huff—he’s hopeless. 

“Your security and being relatable are two completely different matters. And how many times have I told you not to call me that? It’s unprofessional.”

The smirk he gives you is slightly strained. “Whatever you say, princess.”

“You know you don’t have to walk me down every time I leave?” you tell him as you watch the numbers on the wall light up.

“Don’t let that go to your pretty little head.” He shoots you a wry smile. “I actually have somewhere to be.”

The elevator dings when you make it down to the first floor, large shiny doors sliding open to a sleek lobby, and it makes you feel underdressed in your snow boots and oversized puffer jacket. 

“Oh?” 

You try to sound disinterested, but you can’t help thinking about the plethora of messages you’ve seen in his inbox before—all of them anything but innocent. And you feel an odd twinge in your chest, but you brush it off as not wanting to fight off another mob of fans so late at night.

Although, before Alhaitham can continue talking about his potentially faceless hookup, the doorman stops you at the revolving doors that leave the building: “Sorry, sir, the cars aren’t running tonight. The snow on the roads is too high to drive through at the moment.”

Suddenly, your stomach drops, and you hug your bag to your chest. That would mean staying here with Alhaitham—in his house. Somehow, that sounds entirely inappropriate for someone who is his assistant. 

“A-are you sure?” you ask.

The doorman shakes his head. “Sorry, miss. We’ll hopefully be up and running in the morning.”

You sigh, glancing over at Alhaitham, and you grow increasingly more wary of the idea by the stupid grin spreading across his face.

“Doesn’t this get in the way of your plans tonight?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, but it wasn’t really important. It looks like we’re having a sleepover, princess.”

You pass the time by typing up emails you need to send to your boss and making a list of things you’ll need to do tomorrow when you’re allowed to leave. It helps get your mind off the fact that you’ll be sleeping under the same roof as the man who’s been walking around shirtless for the past hour.

Alhaitham plops on the couch beside you, making your cushion jump, and you shoot him a scowl, though it falters when you realize how close he’s sitting. He’s so close that you can’t help but stare at his broad chest and toned abdomen—

You quickly look away. 

“Do you ever do anything that isn’t work-related?” he asks. “I feel like your only hobbies are writing emails and filling out planners.”

“Well, I was supposed to have today off.”

“Hah, sorry about that.” 

You glance at him, which is a mistake on your part because he takes that moment to stretch—all of the muscles in his body pulling taut and bulging—before he relaxes back into the couch.

You turn your eyes back to your computer, heat flooding your face. “Just work on writing those thank you emails for sponsors,” you snap without really meaning to.

Alhaitham doesn’t say anything; instead, he opens his laptop to check his accounts.

Everything is quiet between you for a while, the only sound being the constant clacking of keyboards and your shuffling through the stack of papers beside you. You click open your pen to check off another task when you look over to find him playing Minecraft.

You huff. “Could you try to take this seriously?”

He rolls his eyes. “I can’t focus when you’re constantly clicking that pen.” 

“I swear everything feels like a joke to you.”

“Would it kill you to relax for a second?” 

You bristle. “You’re being childish.”

He scoffs and finally turns his attention away from his computer to glare at you. 

“It’s not like it’s easy to be around you either, princess. You’ve been nagging at me all day. Do you know how draining it is to be around a person like that all the time? Sometimes it’s a headache even being in the same room as you.”

Did he really feel that way?

“I—well—” you purse your lips, trying not to let him know that his words stung. You look away and clear your throat. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

Alhaitham runs a hand through his hair. “Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said—”

“No, it’s okay. I started it.” The air between you is tense, and you think it’s time to call it a night. “I’m going to get ready for bed.”

He nods hesitantly. “Okay.”

You take your time removing your makeup and washing your face, hoping that the longer you spend in the bathroom, you wouldn’t have to deal with more awkward silences. But when you finish slipping on the oversized clothes that Alhaitham lets you borrow and open the door, you find him fixing up a place for you to sleep on the couch.

“Thanks for the clothes.” You twist the hem of your shirt as you walk up to him.

“No problem.” He glances over at you, and his lips quirk up slightly. “My merch looks good on you, by the way.”

You cross your arms over your chest, heat flooding your cheeks. “You don’t have to be nice to me.”

He huffs a laugh as he puts a pillowcase onto a fluffy pillow. “I’m being honest, promise.” You stand there awkwardly, watching him and not sure if you should help or not as a peace offering. “So, what were you going to do?”

You blink, realizing he is speaking to you again. “What?”

“You said it was your day off. What were you going to do?”

“Order take-out and watch the season finale of a show I’ve been into. Probably visit my friend and her ugly cat.” As you say it aloud, it almost seems silly to be upset over having a day off that sounds completely lame. It’s probably more productive that you had to work today—

“Well, you can still do that, can’t you?”

“I doubt a take-out place would deliver food in a snowstorm.”

“I don’t know about take-out, but I know how to cook a few things. And I don’t have cable, but we can play games. What do you like?”

You snort, and Alhaitham cracks a smile at the sound. “Don’t you ever get tired of playing games?”

He shakes his head. “Not really. So…you in?”

“Okay, now hit the B button for the combo move.”

You do as he says, making Kirby swing his hammer into the opponent until they fly off the fighting stage. You’ve been at this for hours, trying to get as many of the characters on Smash Bros. as possible—it’s the most fun you’ve actually had in a while.

Although you’re so focused on the screen, you don’t notice how Alhaitham keeps sneaking glances at you, smiling to himself when he sees your eyes light up. He gives you another set of combo moves when your opponent comes back up until the words flash across the screen that Kirby won.

In your excitement, you turn and throw your arms around him. It catches him off guard at first, but he wraps his arms around you regardless. 

“I-I won!” you squeal.

“You’re actually pretty good at this for someone who’s never played before.” He laughs, and you feel it tickle your ear, making you flush when you realize that you’re practically on his lap.

And he still isn’t wearing a shirt.

Your arms drop to your sides, but you’re still quite close, with his hands planted near your hips. And you give him a shy smile hoping to fight off the sudden flurry of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. 

“I do work with one of the best gamers, after all.”

“Thanking me and praising me on the same day? That must be some kind of record,” he teases lightly, and for once, you’re not bothered by it.

“Shut up,” you tell him, although your words lack the bite that they usually have. “So, I’m curious, what were you going to do earlier?”

“Ah…” He rubs the back of his neck, and you swear you’ve never seen him act so shy before. “Well, I felt bad for making you work today, so I thought I’d knock some things off your to-do list tomorrow. That way, you wouldn’t be stuck with me all day.”

“Oh.” You swallow a lump in your throat. “That was really nice of you.”

He snorts. “But I didn’t do anything.”

You muster up all of your courage, feeling bold at that moment, and lean forward to press your lips against his cheek. When you pull back, you can’t fight the goofy smile tugging at your mouth at the shocked look on Alhaitham’s face—his cheeks a rosy hue. 

“It’s the thought that counts,” you tell him.

Maybe he isn’t so bad—

You’re jolted back to the present when Alhaitham says something, which has your neck nearly cracking as you snap your head in his direction.

“Uh, who’s the lady sitting beside you?” he reads out one of his paid chats with creased brows. 

You’re about to apologize for interrupting his stream, but Alhaitham smiles at the camera. Then he’s pulling you onto his lap for all of his fans to see. 

“This pretty lady is my girlfriend,” he says, resting his chin on your shoulder. “She’s shy, so go easy on her.”

You bite back a sigh, feeling heat spread across your face at the slew of comments blowing up the chat—he’ll always be reckless.

[nikkicola]

ONLY FOOLS FALL FOR YOU. ( alhaitham x reader )

╰┈➤ some feelings came to haunt you after ten years since the last time you saw him.

pairings — alhaitham x fem!reader.

warnings — rivals / enemies to lover ish, slow burn, reader and alhaitham are in their middle twenties, reader has a pyro vision and is also a dancer and actress, reader is also the daughter of a genshin character, angst and a bit of fluff (happy ending of course but they're idiots in love).

word count — 8.1k

notes — june is back with another long fic for genshin! this one was supposed to be posted ages ago but i only had the time to do it now. i hope you guys will enjoy! reblogs and feedbacks are appreacited <3

lesser lord kusanali was a forbidden matter in your house, but you were sure she was the one who pushed you to be what you were today. 

being the daughter of the newest sage in sumeru had its perks, but you hated it. you hated the expectations everyone put on yourself, of how you should follow in your father’s footsteps and join the akademiya — everyone was sure you already had your vacancy there, with how important your father became in such a few moments after his promotion as a sage. but you never cared for scholar subjects, not in the way your two childhood friends did. 

alhaitham and kaveh had different interests, but they could enroll in the akademiya with no problem, because their line of study was actually respected by the sages and other scholars. yours, on the other hand, was looked down on and made fun of by every single one of your father’s, and him too, friends. as much as you tried not to look crestfallen when you heard them talking about the performers of the grand bazaar, alhaitham’s hand always managed to find yours when he was present in such gatherings — and you hoped that, when he wasn’t around, nobody would notice the change in your behavior. 

the arts were what called you: music, dancing, acting.

you could see yourself becoming a performer at the grand bazaar, dancing and acting for the honor of the dendro archon. the applause and excited screams of the audience were what you wanted to pursue, and not false wishes and the quietness of the akademiya. you thrived when alhaitham and kaveh, albeit forced by you, watched your makeshift plays about the archons and the dances you created in your head. you were aware they pitied you — kaveh with his dreams of being an architect and alhaitham’s love for all kinds of knowledge were much more suitable for sumeru city than your passions for the arts. 

that’s why you never expected them to support you in your decision of going against your father’s wishes to join the akademiya, and running away to the grand bazaar to join a theater troupe at the age of fifteen, inspired by a dream you had with the archon of your nation. 

it has been almost ten years, but you still remembered your father’s harsh words as if it had happened just yesterday — of how much of a disappointment you were for the family, how he would be able to explain to his peers and your future master that you decided to throw away the bright future it has been given to you, how ungrateful you were and how other people wished they were on your shoes. your mother remained quiet the whole time, but you never expected her support, too. she always agreed with everything your father used to say, almost brainwashed by the luxuries he displayed in front of her. in a way, she was, and the disappointed looks on their faces weren’t hurtful or a surprise for you. 

although, what hurt the most was alhaitham’s reaction. 

you had feelings from him ever since you knew what romantic love was, but they could never blossom into something more now, that you planned to run away from your home and probably never see your friends and family again. 

kaveh was aware of this too, being your confidant and best friend, trying to persuade you to not give up on everything — alhaitham and the akademiya, but you couldn’t pretend happiness in doing something you hated just because of feelings you didn’t even know if it was reciprocated. if alhaitham really liked you, he would respect your wishes and want your happiness before anything else.

it seemed like he didn’t, having the same reaction as your father — but his words were the ones who brought you to tears, his voice harsher and colder than you’ve ever heard growing up at his side, breaking your heart and cutting your skin like the blade he used to train. you almost gave up on your convictions and stayed in your home and went to the akademiya like your father wished, just to see him looking down at you with anything but the hatred dancing in his eyes. 

but you could not. not when lesser lord kusanali appeared to you in a dream, only to tell you to follow your dreams. you could not turn your back against your god and not do what she wished — she was the god of wisdom, and you trusted her judgment. 

and that’s why you turned your back to him, running away from your feelings for him and burying them in the deepest part of your heart. though, from time to time, you wondered what happened to him — did he and kaveh become scholars and follow their dreams just like yourself? how was the akademiya treating them? were they happy? had alhaitham found someone he loved more than his books? 

you knew such an answer would break your heart even more, but the agony of not knowing was much more worse. 

the grand bazaar welcomed you as if you were a lost daughter returning home after many years, and the zubayr theater became your new family. you were finally at the place you were destined to be, doing what you loved — captivating the audience with your movements and expression, bringing the toughest of men to his knees in broken sobs by your performances. the stage for you was like the library to the scholars of the akademiya, and you learned more and more every day you performed. 

you weren't alone there, having the company of nilou, your fellow dancer and actress who shared the same passion for the arts and love for the dendro archon, and, despite the age difference between the both of you, you two become fast friends — more than friends you came to notice one day, because the younger girl became like a little sister to you in just a few months of knowing each other. and you couldn’t be happier by following the words of lesser lord kusanali, thanking her every day for whispering her wisdom for you in your dreams. 

your days were spent rehearsing and performing, sometimes helping the merchants in the grand bazaar and planning more and more plays with your peers of the zubayr theater. it was like an act of resistance, almost, the performances you did — the people of sumeru were fond of the troupe’s plays, especially the children, and seeing the disapproval looks of the scholars were your fuel to not stop. 

it was supposed to be one of those days for you. a dance performance was scheduled in the treasures street, always buzzing with people due to its stalls and merchants, but today was different — you received the intel that a bunch of scholars would be wandering the area, probably for a case study of whatever the akademiya was planning. it was the perfect opportunity to show those arrogant scholars at least a glimpse of the wonders of the performing arts, and you couldn’t help but dress like greater lord rukkhadevata was described in the records you remembered reading as a child, just to spite the scholars even more.

probably for a case study of whatever the akademiya was planning. it was the perfect opportunity to show those arrogant scholars at least a glimpse of the wonders of the performing arts, and you couldn’t help but dress like greater lord rukkhadevata was described in the records you remembered reading as a child, just to spite the scholars even more. 

you winked at your musician, a teenage boy who held the same spite for the akademiya you did, starting your movements as soon as the sounds of the flute reached your ears. the flowing white sleeves and your long white and green skirt created a beautiful sight alongside the choreography nilou helped you to come up with, and the crowd’s cheers and boos didn’t reach your ears. whenever you were dancing, the outside world was shut down, your senses completely enveloped by the surrounding music. you moved as if you were made of water, a delicacy never seen before in the way your body spins. 

your eyes were kept close, as you didn’t wish for an unpleasant view to take your focus away. performing in the open was more difficult than in the grand bazaar — people there, at least, were also enjoyers of the arts. however, you couldn’t just ignore the call to show more people how the arts were a form of wisdom, too. 

the music ended, as well as your dance, and you bowed gracefully while opening your eyes to scan the crowd, the boos louder than anything else. but what was supposed to be a swift escape from the scholars and a few guards your vision managed to spot, was cut by a strong hold in your arm, dragging you away from your makeshift stage. too shocked to do anything else, you let yourself be pulled away from the crowd of scholars, their screams now louder that you were in the middle of them.

“take away this scum from our city, scribe!” 

your eyes, that were cast down to your feet, widened at such words. scribe was the title your father had before he became a sage, and, even though it didn’t make sense being him the one who was dragging you, your heart still raced with fear. though, when you had enough courage to look properly at your captor when you were a few meters away from the scholars, it was someone who you never thought of seeing again. 

those blue eyes, shining with the same rage it shone years ago, still haunted your dreams whenever you closed your eyes. 

“let go of me, alhaitham!” you managed to say, besides the lump in your throat. 

it was strange to see him, almost ten years after you left your house. alhaitham changed, of course — he was taller and more muscular, and his face was more sharp than it was before, now the face of an adult rather than a teenager’s one. his hair remained the same almost, only a bit shorter, but his eyes were still the ones you remembered from your childhood. you never forgot the exact shade of blue of them, of how the colors merged to create his pupils. they were mesmerizing, but it seemed that they would never look down at you with love on them once more.

“what were you thinking, y/n?” his voice was quiet but demanding, yet he didn't lose his composure, acting as if the rage in his words was nothing. “dancing in front of a crowd of people who hate the arts?” his grip on your arm tightened, and you couldn't find the same comfort you did as a teenager in his presence. 

you were angry, far angrier than you originally thought you would be if you saw him again, and sad — even though your heart still beat only for him. “i would have escaped, scribe. like i always did.” venom laced his new title, something so familiar yet foreign. it didn't suit him. he wasn't supposed to follow in your father's footsteps, as if he had replaced his own daughter with her friend. “i had a plan that was ruined by you.”

if the bitterness in your voice affected him, he didn't let it show on his face — but his grip around your arms softened, and you took that as your cue to get away from his touch. his presence alone was too intoxicating, clouding your senses and messing with your better judgment. 

little did you know, but you had the same effect on him. 

his closed fists weren't because of his rage, but from his urge to hold you between his arms once more — to feel your skin against his fingertips, to run his fingers in your hair and kiss your forehead, to hold you against his chest and tell you how many nights he was kept awake thinking about you. alhaitham was a coward and he was aware of it, knowing you were residing at the grand bazaar and not setting foot in the place, afraid of seeing you in the arms of another with no thought of yours being about him, like all of his were about you. 

“and what were you going to do? run away from all those scholars who were clearly offended by your choice of clothing?” he barked back, watching your eyes roll and your arms crossing on your chest. you were beautiful, wearing what the scholars believed were greater lord rukkhadevata's clothes back when she was alive. the color complimented your skin, and the flowing sleeves and skirts made your movements more graceful than alhaitham remembered them to be.

you scoffed. he was just like all the scholars you grew up to hate, arrogant and too confident in his abilities, and it hurt your heart to reach such a conclusion — that your first love was an akademiya scum. “i will not tell you.” you turned your back to him, starting to walk back to where you were, hoping that alhaitham would leave you alone to return home. but, the heavy sounds of his boots were your clue that he wouldn't leave you to your own company. “just let me return home.” you voice was quiet and full of hurt, small, just like alhaitham remembered it to be when your father would scold you. 

and he hated the fact that he was the one making you feel like that. 

however, he couldn't say sorry not leave you alone — he finally saw you after years of earning for such a meeting to happen and, even though he'd never admit that, he wanted to spend more time with you and know everything that happened in the years you were apart. he could always rely on the akasha to know such information, but things appearing on his mind would never have the same effect as hearing your voice. “you're defenseless. if your father knows that i didn't protect you, i'm a dead man by tomorrow morning.”

his words took you by surprise. “he made you promise this years ago. i'm sure that now he will be delighted if something happens to me.” you bit the inside of your cheeks to prevent the tears in your lashes from falling down, your head turned to the side so he couldn't see them. talking about your father was still a delicate subject for you — as much as you wanted to hate him for all the wrongs he said for you when you were fifteen, the loving and caring father that he was until that day arrived still plagued your thoughts. 

alhaitham shrugged. “i don’t care about him, i care about the promise i made, and i will not go back on my word.” you didn’t notice when you both stopped walking, but the gloved hand on your face, wiping the tears away while obligating you to look directly at his eyes, made your body be plagued by shivers and your cheeks to flush in a bright red color. 

he was the same alhaitham of your memories, wasn't he? the caring and kind, sometimes a bit too blunt, boy that you met alongside kaveh when you two were exploring the forest — his eyes were still the same, and even though they were now with different emotions than in the last time you saw them, his words still had the same painful effect they did once. did he still think that of you? that you were useless and a fool, that you had thrown away the brightest of futures to a life that wasn't worth it. your brows furrowed, and you got away from his grasp, missing the way his eyes shone with hurt at your rejection of his affection. 

but he would fight for you and he would gain your trust again, and alhaitham didn't care for the time this would take. he just wanted you back where you belonged — between his arms and in his life. 

— 

he stayed true to his word, even if you didn't know about them. all you knew was that he became a constant presence in all your performances, whenever they would be. he was the first person you saw when you opened your eyes after dancing in the honor of the dendro archon, the first person that congratulated you or the person who led you to safety when you decided to perform in front of scholars. 

it was annoying, at the beginning. alhaitham always had a critic to say, either being something about the music or the lighting — or even your partners in the performance, especially if they were men, saying that they didn't let you shine like he knew you could alone — but you knew that was his way of complimenting you. he has always been like that, too logical to know how to say a kind word instead of what you should do to make your performance better in the next time. it was almost endearing how he noticed the small details about your dance, like the way your hands moved or the sound your bracelets made when you clapped your hands. 

you both were from different words, but different words that completed each other in ways you never thought it would. the arts and the runes were almost like oil and water, but you and alhaitham made them mix it perfectly.

he also always made sure he was the one who left you at your room's door, perhaps to know that you were indeed safe, and you made the mistake of asking alhaitham if he wanted to come inside the third time he did that. 

it was already late in the night when your performance ended, that time at the the neighborhood with nilou, and you tried to argue with him that you didn't need his protection — everyone in the neighborhood knew who you are, and you knew how to fight and knew how to use your pyro vision to burn those who tried to harass you. and as much as he knew that, being the first victim of your vision, he still wanted you at his side. the question left your lips before you could think of it, the gossip that such an action would bring in the inn and in the grand bazaar long gone in your head. just like he wanted to make sure of your safety, you also wanted to make sure of his, too. 

you only had one bed, of course, you room enough only to fit one person living there. and as much as he tried to argue with you to let him sleep on the floor, you almost tied his wrists to your bed frame so he could sleep there, knowing that he wasn’t someone who slept much due to the nature of his job in the akademiya. but it seemed that your warmth was enough to make the akademiya's scribe to give up — you both fell asleep with a pillow between your bodies, but you woke up with his strong arms caging you to his chest and his face nuzzled in your neck. 

you didn’t dare to move, of course. you couldn’t know how alhaitham’s reaction to such an outcome would be, and the shallow breaths leaving his nostrils were proof enough that he was indeed awake, probably enjoying the few minutes of peace you and your house were granting him. you just nuzzled back on him, hearing him sighing and a pair of lips ghosting your cheek before his warmth left your bed. you only opened your eyes when you heard him moving around your small home. a few words were shared before he left to do his job, a small sandwich in his hands and the promise of seeing you again — though it took one week before that, in a setting that you wished was just a nightmare. 

—

zubayr theater had a performance scheduled in the grand bazaar, something that was proposed by you and nilou to bring attention to the place and help the merchants — every time a performance was announced in the city, all the eyes were directed to where it would be. children and women were always more open to the job you and your peers did, always enchanted by the dance moves and theatrics your troupe had to offer, while men and members of the akademiya always looked down with frowns whenever they attended one. you were still warming nilou to the fact that whenever the akademiya members didn’t like it, it meant you were in the right way. 

though, however, you never expected to see your father in the crowd. 

alhaitham stood proud at his side, though you could see that he was rather uncomfortable — in the short months you spent in his company again since you ran away, you learned what his lack of expression meant. it was just a mask you knew he developed in the years of studying in the akademiya, meant to deceive his peers into thinking that he was above them all, but you could see just by the way his eyes flicked to your form now and then that he wished he was anywhere but near your father. you didn’t know what prompted him to feel such discomfort, wondering if your father was now something more than just a sage in the akademiya, but you knew that you would never know.

you didn’t want to know. 

you just trying to ignore his presence in the crowd, his clothes as a sage almost in discrepancy inside the grand bazaar, focusing on the character you needed to portray — as always, the role of greater lord rukkhadevata belonged to you, while nilou was the goddess of flowers. it was a play about the birth of lesser lord kusanali, something that had always been wrapped in mystery to the common folk, and a great source for writers to romanticize and actors to give life to their plays. you were glad you were able to raise curiosity in the hearts of people about the birth of their god, though many of them were still disappointed with the new dendro archon’s lack of great doings. 

the performance ended with a round of applause by those who enjoyed it, and some looks of disapproval by those who did not. your eyes scanned the crowd until they found alhaitham’s, but the familiar soft and warm gaze he gave you whenever you ended a play wasn’t there — instead, you were met with cold and calculating eyes, and you didn’t know if he was behaving like that because of your father’s presence or if he finally was persuaded into seeing that you both were from different worlds and how bad it was. 

you tried not to be disappointed, nor make the pain in your heart be known by your colleagues, brushing nilou’s worried words with anxiousness — you gave a quick explanation about your father being in the crowd, and she seemed to buy it being the reason for the sadness in your eyes. 

after speaking with a few of your admirers, you excused yourself, feigning a bit of tiredness due to the preparations for the performance, smiling at the sight of the merchant’s tents filled with people — they weren’t many, but it was more than you were used to seeing every day. it was such small actions that made everything worthy of it, from running away from the safety of your family and the future your father chose for you to joining a theater troupe and changing your life in a way you only used to dream about, because you were sure you would never be able to help people if you were in the akademiya. 

you sighed, hearing rushed voices near your home. you didn’t want to spy on them, but as you recognized the voices to belong to your father and alhaitham, your curiosity took the best of you, hiding between a tree and some brushes. 

“i hope you are pleased with my job, grand sage.” 

that piqued your interest, hearing alhaitham calling your father by such a title, though your heart fell to your stomach. as much as you wanted to stay there and listen, something inside you told you to just run away and be ignorant — after all, ignorance was a blessing — because if you stayed, you would be heartbroken. 

the voice inside you proved to be right, alongside your father’s words.

“i am, indeed, pleased with your job, scribe alhaitham.” azar’s voice was just exactly how you remember it to be when you were growing up, authoritative and unkind. “it is good to get data about those performancers.” they weren’t so close but not too far, and you feared that if you did any abrupt movement your hiding spot would be found — but your fists clenched anyway, anger boiling in your blood by hearing such words. “especially my daughter. i do not want her to disturb any of the students with her foolish ideals. now, because of your help, we can stop her whenever she tries anything.” 

you tried not to let the tears that were pooling in your eyes to fall and give them the joy of making you cry after such knowledge, but the sadness inside you was stronger than any other resolution you had. alhaitham was just using you? all the time you two spent together, laughing and rebuilding your friendship, all the soft glances during late nights when he had accompanied you home, and hands brushing your cheek whenever he put a strand behind your ear while whispering goodnight — everything was just a lie for him? just a way for him to gather information about you and your peers to put on that damned akasha, for azar and the other sages to use against you and the other artists? 

and you had fallen for it like a puppy. 

you thought your childhood crush was something reciprocated, you really did, opening yourself to him like you did to no other man in your life. 

“i just did it to protect you.” 

his voice took you from your thoughts, your fists still clenched and your nails now draining blood from your palms. how could he? how could he lie so bluntly to you, feigning concern about you? “don’t try to excuse yourself, scribe.” you turned around to meet his eyes, finding them not like you thought they would be — emotionless and even with a bit of mockery shining on them, but they were hurt. 

because alhaitham never saw you looking so hurt and angry, not at himself. 

“i do not want to see you ever again.” 

you left him in the middle of the street with those words, his eyes following your shaking form until you were inside the safety of your house. alhaitham knew that you wouldn’t take his actions well, but he hoped you would never find out what he was doing — because he was, indeed, protecting you. if you did another performance near the akademiya, or near students that would report back to the sages, you would be exiled to the desert just like an insane scholar, and he wouldn’t be able to do anything to save you from such a horrible fate. 

he sighed, starting to walk back in the familiar way to the akademiya, his heart the heaviest since you left him when you were teenagers. 

maybe he just needed to give you some time for yourself, while he pondered what he could do to make you forgive him. 

—

one month. 

one month since you last saw alhaitham, and you wished you could say that his actions made you hate him — but it didn’t. 

it took you a few days to be able to dance and act again, though your eyes always scanned the crowd in search of him. he was never there, and as much as you were the one who said you didn’t want to see him again, you were disappointed. if he did have feelings for you, would he really give up on you like that? it was beyond frustrating what you were feeling, because you couldn’t understand him or his actions — he really thought you would be fine with him using you to gather information for the akademiya, even if it was to protect yourself from the archons’ know what? 

and now he just gave up. why wasn't he fighting for you? 

or maybe you were wrong, again. maybe he didn’t have feelings for you like you thought he did, and he was really just using you and all the little signals were just a play. if that was the truth, he was a better actor than most people you knew — better than yourself. you would never be able to pretend to have feelings for someone if it wasn’t in a play and you weren’t a character. 

as much as you tried to not let your feelings interfere with your everyday life, almost everyone in the grand bazaar noticed that something was wrong. nilou was the first one, the first to notice how puffy and red your eyes were from crying the whole night after the incident with your father and him. though you didn't have the courage to tell her what happened — after all, the dreamy eyes she had whenever you and alhaitham were around, perhaps imagining having a lover like him, didn't pass unnoticed by you — she still knew something happened between the two of you, always offering her support when you needed it. the others were mostly like her, though not as close to you to express their worry verbally. 

you lived your life the same it was before you met alhaitham after all those years, though it was harder now. before, his rejection to your young love was just a ghost, something that you would never know — now, however, it was a tangible thing, a bitter taste in your mouth whenever you still searched for his presence in your crowds. 

you would never learn that oil and water would never mix perfectly, just like you would never learn you and alhaitham would never have meant to be. 

that was what kept your shattered heart together, the glue holding all the pieces as thin as the air, and such a fact you came to know when kaveh visited you on a rainy day. you weren't expecting his visit, of course, the day uneventful due to the weather. you were teaching a bunch of little girls some of your favorite dance moves after they came to you when you spotted a tuft of blonde hair adorned with a blue feather and a pair of red eyes that you would always remember as warm. 

though kaveh's reappearance didn't shake you up like alhaitham's, his words were far more worrisome.

after a long awaited shared hug between two old friends and some pleasantries coming from both of your mouths, kaveh broke the news, his red eyes shining with a worry you never saw before in them — in fact, you did, on the day you ran away from your father. “i know something happened between you and alhaitham.” he started, his hands on your shoulders holding you at your place.

“kaveh…” you tried, not wanting to hear anything about him. what was kaveh going to say to you? that he was miserable and not himself, because of something he did? it wasn’t fair to you. 

he sighed, already in tune with your mannerisms again — you always said you two were platonic soulmates, knowing everything about each other from the top to bottom, being able to communicate with just your eyes. “i’m not here to play his advocate, far from it. i do not know what happened, as he did not tell me, but,” his grip on your shoulders tightened a bit, as if he was trying to prepare you for what was coming. “he was assigned a mission by the sages almost a month ago. a very dangerous one that i was against him going, you see, but the whole situation with you probably made him more prone to accept it. and…” 

“...and?” you heart was beating fast inside your rib cage, faster than you ever remembered it beating. a lot of scenarios were playing in your head, and all of them were worse than the other. 

“and he was severely injured.” the world around you was spinning, as if the air wasn’t enough to make the blood go to your lungs, making everything dizzy — but you could see the worry on his face. as much as kaveh pretended to hate alhaitham, you knew that deep down he cared about him, and vice-versa. “he is alright now, y/n, he’s being treated in the akademiya’s infirmary now.” you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, tears now glossing kaveh’s handsome features. 

“why are you telling me this?” such a question was eating you alive. you knew kaveh’s nature wasn’t a cruel one, but what he wanted to achieve with giving you this acknowledgement? 

“you’re still so impatient.” he chuckled, though it wasn’t filled with mirth like you remembered it to be. “alhaitham was probably going through some fever illusions and he… he kept calling in your name. in a pained way, saying that he couldn’t die before seeing you again.” you heart skipped a beat at your friend’s confession, even more tears glossing your vision now. alhaitham didn’t have this right, the right to break your heart and transform into dust and then made it whole again. 

you felt kaveh’s soft fingers caressing your cheeks, wiping the tears away, the beating of your heart more erratic than ever. “can i see him?” the question left your lips before you could think twice, the idea of him dying hurting more than your broken heart. 

kaveh laughed. “i was going to ask you that.” 

—

in the way to the akademiya, kaveh told you what happened. 

he narrated how he noticed something was off with alhaitham a day when he came back unexpectedly earlier to their house. he was used to finding his roommate with a permanent scowl on his face, but he seemed defeated — his scowl wasn’t the arrogant one that alhaitham always displayed on his face, but something akin to sadness and frustration. kaveh didn’t dare to ask what happened, already knowing what his friend was going to say, so he left the matter behind, deeming it to be problems in his job. during the week, alhaitham closed himself off in the house of daena, as if the books could cure whatever was making him so strange, until he came back home one day, gathering his essential things in a small bag and leaving for a confidential mission for the grand sage. 

kaveh only heard about alhaitham again two days ago, when he returned to their home bloodied and weak, and he took him to the infirmary — his wounds were more severely than kaveh thought they were, and while he was in the room to watch the amurta students taking care of him, he heard him muttering your name. 

“y/n… i can’t die… her… love… sorry… y/n…” those were the words kaveh told you alhaitham had whispered while he was in agony, probably delirious from either pain or fever. your heart broke even more knowing about this, your feet almost running straight to the infirmary, even though you didn’t know the way there — it wasn’t easy to sneak you in the akademiya, but the raining day meant that a lot of scholars weren’t lurking around, ready to see one of them with a performer from the grand bazaar, and you managed to infiltrate the place where all wisdom was created. 

kaveh led you to alhaitham’s room, in a wing full of patients who were labeled as having delicate cases, and you wondered what was the mission alhaitham agreed to go. did he went on it because he wanted, or because he was pressured to go? or he used this opportunity to forget about you, risking his life in the process? you couldn’t bear the idea of being the reason why he accepted such a dangerous mission and risked his life for nothing. 

but alhaitham was stubborn, and even if you asked, he would never tell you. 

parting ways with kaveh with a hug, you slowly entered the room your childhood friend was being treated in, careful to not make so much noise and awake him — kaveh told you he had been unconscious since he arrived, but you didn’t want to disturb him. what if he hated you now? what if he saw you as the culprit of the state he was in, and now was the one who didn’t want to see you? though his feverish words said otherwise, you were still nervous, like you felt whenever you were about to start a performance. 

the room was beautiful, just like everything in the akademiya, with a big window that you thought was supposed to make sunlight fill the room, and some medical instruments around it. but it was plain too, with white and green walls and a bed and some nightstand and a loveseat near the bed, probably for a companion. 

you made your way to the bed, your steps as light as a feather falling in the ground, afraid that you could awaken him and disturb his recovery. you just wanted to see him, see if he was well, and then leave — you didn’t know how your reaction would be if you saw him with open eyes, probably too overwhelming to see who just got away from lady death’s grasp.

alhiatham looked peaceful, you noticed as soon as you sat on the bed. 

he had no frown adorning his features, and he looked much more healthy than you thought he would — he wasn’t pale and his skin was glowing, even if his face had some small bruises which were decorating his handsome face with a tint of purple. he looked so young, just like the boy you had fallen in love while growing up, and it hurt. it hurt to see him like this and to think what your relationship became just because of the prejudice of your father and the scholars. 

you wanted nothing more than to caress his face and kiss his pain away and, before you could think straight, your fingers were already ghosting his cheekbones, going down to his lips and his bruises, feeling his warm skin underneath your fingertips and sighing contently feeling his breath tickling your skin. it was good to know that he was alive and well, and after making sure of that, you retracted your hand back to rest in your lap and knew you were ready to go back to the grand bazaar — would he come after you after his recovery? would he tell you what he was whispering in his agony? 

though, before you could leave his bed and the room, alhaitham’s hand grabbed yours, making a surprised gasp to leave your lips. 

“don’t go…” his voice was rough and raw, strange on his body after two days of not using it. “i do not know if this is a fever dream or not,” he opened his eyes, blinking it to make sure you weren’t a hallucination. “but don’t leave me again, y/n.” 

you smiled, a few tears going down on your cheeks. “i promise, alhaitham.” the hand that wasn’t intertwined with his cupped his cheek, and you leaned down to press a chaste kiss to his forehead. “go back to sleep, alright? i will be here when you wake up again.” 

he nodded, like a small child, closing his eyes again. 

—

alhaitham knew people from sumeru couldn’t dream, but why did your lips on his forehead felt so real? 

he groaned, the pain on his chest more than just a physical pain. it hurt to know that his brain and heart craved your presence so much that he dreamed about you — was the dendro archon giving him a bit of solace before he came to face the consequences of his actions? he knew he wasn’t supposed to fight a machine monster all by himself, even though he was strong enough to do so, but such a mechanical being wasn’t like the ones he faced before, and he needed to get that capsule of divine knowledge back. 

alhaitham thought that perhaps he could redeem himself in your eyes, if he managed to help sumeru and its people somehow.

he got the capsule back, but almost lost himself to it. he didn’t understand how he managed to arrive at his house before collapsing in pain and loss of blood, the journey home being filled with fever dreams of you and what could’ve happened between you both if he was more open about his feelings, if he wasn’t a coward and had fought for you. 

but now the past was in the past, and alhaitham couldn’t do anything to change. he could only bask in what his imagination could give him — the softness of your fingers on his face, the sweetest kiss of your lips and its warmth on his skin, the honey laced promise you made him. it would hurt more than any of his bruises the fact that he would wake up alone in such a cold room, with you being so far away from him. 

though the sound of footsteps gave him the idea he wasn’t alone. “close the curtains, kaveh, for the archon’s sake.” he muttered, turning around to not be graced with the sun rays on his face. 

the sound of a feminine giggle made him furrow his eyebrows, a sound so sweet that he was sure he was still in a fever dream — the last time he heard your giggles was a day before you discovered what he was doing, laughing at his complaints about kaveh. your smile and your laugh were his fuel to keep fighting that mechanical being, the idea of seeing you happy again enough for him to keep going. 

“if you want me to call kaveh, just say it.” you voice was laced with mirth, and a bit of concern, totally different from the cold and filled with rage tone you used the last time alhaitham saw you. it was almost comforting the way you seemed more at ease at his presence, though he knew he owed you an apology. 

he scoffed. “never.” he turned around once again, opening his eyes to find you sitting on the love seat near his bed. “hi.” he whispered while he watched you walking towards him, all the words dying on his throat at the sight of you. 

it was funny how he always had a witty remark to anything said to him, but never to you. your presence made his brain foggy and disoriented, all his thoughts revolving around you. he was just a useless star that couldn’t help but be attracted and circle around you, the sun, that gave warmth to everyone else. 

“hi.” you whispered back, your hands fumbling in your lap, as if you didn’t know what to do with them. “how are you feeling?” your voice had a tenderness that alhaitham knew he didn’t deserve coming from you. he’d never deserve your love or your kindness, something so pure and beautiful, even though you might think otherwise. 

he tried to chuckle, trying to ease the worry in your brow. “i’ve seen better days.” as much as he wanted to ask why and how you were there, alhaitham wasn’t brave enough to break the blissful bubble you both were in. he was afraid that his words would turn a switch inside you, that you would graze your eyes upon him with the same rage it was filled in the last time he saw you, that your fists would shake and your lip tremble with unshed tears — the love struck and kind look your eyes had was so much better than the fresh of you in his mind.

“i can imagine.” tentatively, you cupped his bruised cheek, fingers gently caressing his skin. he leaned into your touch, a relieved sigh leaving his lips at your display of affection — he was undeserving yes, but alhaitham was selfish and arrogant, and he would never back away from it. yet, the shadow of what happened and the questions from both of your hearts hovered above your forms. “i…” you seemed braver than him, trying to get the acknowledged that would soothe or break your heart even more, but alhaitham couldn’t let you be the one to start — he cut you by trying to get up, indulging your smaller hand on his, the bandages preventing your skin to touch, much to his chagrin. 

“let me speak first, y/n. i was the one at fault in the first place.” he watched as you nodded, body coming closer to him, your smell clouding his senses and the only thought in his head was kissing your lips until they were red and raw, seeing you beneath him with red cheeks and disheveled hair. “i know you do not believe me, but i was protecting you when giving information about your troupe to your father.” at the mention of the grand sage, your face became sour — though now more hurt than angered, and alhaitham knew such a change of feeling was good. “you were going to be exiled to the desert, my love.” the term of endearment didn’t go unnoticed by you, your cheeks becoming hot at the possessive form before it. 

you were his. 

“i was desperate. i had only found you after being an incognito in my life for almost ten years.” his grip on your hand tightened, and alhaitham sighed. “i’m not asking you to forgive me so easily, but do not look at me with that rage again.” he pleaded, bringing your hand to his mouth and kissing your knuckles, his warm lips caressing your skin as if he was worshiping a goddess. “my heart is yours to do whatever you want, and i will endure it, but don’t deny me seeing the love in your eyes be corrupted by such a horrible feeling.” 

alhaitham closed his eyes, taking your hand to rest over his chest, ready for your rejection. 

“why did you accept this mission?” your voice was quiet, and your words totally different from what his mind told him what they were going to be. “i thought… i thought you had only used me, alhaitham.” your reveal wasn’t a total surprise for him, because he knew his actions were misleading. 

“i guess i just wanted to forget what i made you feel.” he admitted, arms coming to wrap around you and bring your body to rest on his chest. it hurt, because his wounds were still fresh, but that was where you belonged. you fitted perfectly between his arms, your face hid in the warmth of his neck and his head resting above yours, your bodies almost melting into each other and becoming one. 

his arms tightened around your form when he felt your body shake and his neck wet by your tears. he didn’t try to pry, though his heart ached with your quiet sobs, but he knew you would talk when you were ready — the only thing he could offer now was physical comfort, and even though alhaitham thought he was the worst person to give any kind of comfort, but it was you. you always made his best traits to shine, and the worst ones to become less bad.

after some time, your sobs quieted down and your body stopped to shake, and your voice filled his ears. “you really hurt me, alhaitham.” you were using a scolding tone, as if he had done something bad but something redeemable. “i’ve been in love with you since we were children, and you doing that…” 

“you were in love with me since we were children?” his shocked voice made you giggle, your body adjusting so you were straddling him, hands cupping his cheeks and noses touching. alhaitham’s cheek were tinted with red, a sight that you never saw before but something so mesmerizing that you wanted it belonged to eternity — his eyes were lidded, pupils wide with a mix of love and lust, his hand gripping your hips to bring you even closer to you. 

another giggle left your lips when he kissed a spot near your lips. “for being the akademiya’s scribe, you’re a bit stupid, my beloved.” you managed to say before his lips were attacking yours, in a kiss that — even though it was delayed for ten years — was the testimony of his endless love for you. 

[nikkicola]

important change:

she/her -> they/them

[nikkicola]

No.11

[nikkicola]

「 without caution. 」

ALHAITHAM is not a man easily swayed. he had to explicitly warn you on the first day of sumeru akademiya that only his goals matter, and you are of no personal gain or consequence to him. not with your wide, naive eyes and softer-than-cotton touch and blooming laughter. you were too bothersome, dismissing every warning of his, even if it landed you in life-threatening situations. you always did laugh at him, even when he was being dead serious. something about your string of actions was so bizarre, so insufferable, he breathed a sigh of relief on graduation day.

how is it now then, that he finds himself sighing in relief once again nestled in your arms? it was unexpected—your actions are usually predictable. his hands shake when he lifts them up to return the embrace. he’s aware of physical touch, aware of the meaning of it, and it’s not the first time he’s been shown affection. however, he’s never felt quite this way holding someone. is this what the florist down the city feels when she kisses her husband with mirth or when the barista at the cafe runs into the arms of his lover, both beaming with joy? are they that way because they’re in love?

“mr. scribe?” you giggle softly. “how come you’re here so late?”

“i don’t know either. it’s strange.”

you hum softly, a jolly tune even in the deepest darkness of night. man always strives for the stars. maybe that’s why he finds himself near you again.

“you know, i always knew i’d be with you someday.”

“that’s silly,” he responds. “and naive. you’re not an astrologer.”

“no, but i felt a tug,” you hum. “towards you.”

alhaitham falls silent. he neither understands nor asks the meaning of what you said. his view of the world, of people, was always that of a man staring at a miniature model of grand buildings. the parts are replaceable and easy to cut off. even if he ends up all alone.

“i’ve always wanted to feel this way,” you mumble, suddenly shy. “to hold someone i love.”

silence follows, only filled in by the ambience of midnight. he sighs again, leaning away from you. his eyes are cold as ever, but there is something new to them.

“i’ve never been in love,” he admits, his whisper cool. “it’s unreasonable.”

however, his breathing gets heavier and deeper as he grits his teeth, a sting of pain shooting through his chest at the softness of your palm against his cheek. he cannot see as you less than you are—he never has—but now he sees you as more, as salvation he neither deserves nor wants. isn’t this what affection does? it clouds his judgment so forcefully that he nearly closes the gap between your lips. after all, it’s all he can think of at this proximity.

“look at me,” he laughs drily. “another victim of irrationality.”

you shake your head, pulling his face closer. It elicits a wave of annoyance spreading over his features. and yet, he cannot meet your eyes. he’s in denial, you realize. for a man so ground in pure logic, it must be groundbreaking to experience love. he never wanted this. he never wanted to let people in. he preferred the monotone. 

and despite it all, he hooks a finger under your chin and presses his lips to yours in a satin kiss. no endeavor is riskless. and for just you, he’s willing to do away with caution.

[nikkicola]

⎯⎯ ୨ 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐬, 𝐈𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐞, 𝐄𝐱𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐞 ୧ ⎯⎯

➢ Aʟʜᴀɪᴛʜᴀᴍ x Gɴ!Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x Kᴀᴠᴇʜ

➢ 1.5k ᴡᴏʀᴅs ┊ Hᴜʀᴛ/ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ

➢ Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

a/n - i had a really stressful project recently and i had to do smth i was particulary good at. but i lost the competition and didnt manage to get top 5 and i felt really shity about it so have this comfort fic. titled "deep breaths, inhale, exhale", have a nice day/night! i hope ppl who are also stressed get comfort at least :) also trying to come to terms that i don't have to write flamboyantly for it to be 'good'

It was just a normal day for the two housemates; Alhaitham and Kaveh.

Usual bickering whilst they ate, not afraid to raise their voices at each other despite it still being the crack of dawn. At this point, their neighbors have learned to adapt to the two men's senseless blabbering early in the morning, resulting in lessening noise complaints.

Despite the headache-inducing arguments that transpire from their (Alhaitham's) home, there was still a sort of order when it comes to responsibilities. Although every now and then, the house would be a total mess. Let's just say they're the perfect balance between calm and utter chaos.

As per routine, it was Kaveh's turn to wash the dishes and Alhaitham would go on ahead to the Akademiya to resume his duties as the Scribe. Then Kaveh would begin drafting his projects or spend his morning eventfully at the Grand Bazaar.

But it all came to a halt when their door slammed open.

It startled both residents, and hastily getting on their feet, the loud screech of wood against wood reverberated throughout the house as they summoned their weapons. But upon laying their eyes on your familiar figure standing in the doorway, they rejoiced. Kaveh, feeling his heart leap at your sudden arrival, grinned ear to ear and ran up to you, while Alhaitham tried to contain his excitement by maintaining his disinterested expression. However, not a soul would notice other than you and Kaveh, his lovers, the way his eyes lighted up and the small quirk at the corner of his lips.

You were a rather well-known member of Vahumana. A few weeks ago, you went on a faraway expedition to pursue a project you've been dreaming of completing and share your research with other scholars. Oftentimes, you sent letters, updating them on your progress, difficulties you've encountered, and horrible homesickness, missing both of them dearly.

But as of late, you hadn't sent any letters. While both assumed that you were just particularly busy, they both waited patiently for your next letter. Of course, this was sheer nonsense to people who have managed to witness them during that point and time.

Alhaitham had to physically stop Kaveh's worried ramblings about you by pressing a deep kiss on his lips, while Kaveh had to hide the coffee from Alhaitham because if he didn't, he'd drink 5 cups of coffee solely because of his unease and would rake his fingers through his hair, just as he liked (though would never admit to Kaveh).

Your intention was to submit your project, then surprise your lovers with your arrival. But those plans were quickly shattered when the Akademiya unceremoniously rejected your project. And rather harshly at that. It broke your heart of your results. While you resented the Akademiya like the rest of the people attending it, you couldn't help but feel so beaten down.

You had thought that it was your magnum opus, you've worked blood, sweat, and tears with this passion project of yours. That it would bring upon revelations in Sumeru like other Vahumara scholars did. And you were sure that your research was feasible too if others dared to collaborate as well. But no, the Akademiya shut you down without hesitation.

Angry, frustrated, sad, and most importantly, tired.

Their cheerful mood dampened down when they finally saw your tearful eyes, dark bags under them, and a shaky, bitter smile on your lips. You hadn't meant to return in such a foul mood, trying to maintain the pep in your walk and a bright (fake) smile that you usually wore whilst you walked back to your home. But the closer you got, the more your heart constricted uncomfortably due to the stress you desperately tried to swallow down.

Averting your eyes from their concerned expressions, you took an interest in the floor, your body aching from your heavy bags. Both wanted to ask all the questions running through their minds, to wrap you around their arms and comfort you, but seeing how hard you're trying to keep it to together...

Alhaitham silently took your bags from your tired form and you let out a small, broken "thank you" and a sigh of relief once he did, making him frown deeper. Kaveh's warm, delicate fingers found themselves on your cheek, and almost instantly, you leaned against his touch, bottom lip now quivering.

"Welcome back dearest," Kaveh cooed into your ear, leading you inside the house and closing the door behind you. Alhaitham, after putting your bags down, took your other cheek in his rough, calloused hand. "We've missed you." Alhaitham was not one for words like these, but he wanted you to momentarily forget whatever happened to upset you and only focus on them.

The textures of their hands contrasted, similarly to their personalities, but they both felt so nice on your skin, you couldn't simply get enough of the feel. Another sigh escaped your lips before you mustered up the courage to speak, only to pathetically mutter; "I missed you too." Barely above a whisper.

Alhaitham and Kaveh shared a knowing look, nodding to each other. Alhaitham carried you into his arms, one hooked under your legs and one on your back after he asked for your permission and Kaveh pressed a kiss on your forehead. "You must be tired, want me to make anything for you?" He asked, eyes softening when you curled up against Alhaitham even more, head against his pectorals.

Your gaze was distant, but you let out a thoughtful hum. "Something... You know I'd like, please?" You requested, a small smile etching your lips in an attempt to lighten the mood, though they could both see the underlying pain in it. But Kaveh could only chuckle for you, "But you like anything I make, sweetheart!"

Alhaitham sighed exasperatedly, appearing as if his patience was thinning but it was to merely appear as if the normalcy between the three of you has returned, just for a little bit, before you decide to tell them what was wrong. "Then get on with it, you're in the way." He huffed.

Kaveh's lips pursed at that, glaring at the silver-haired male, quite offended. "Well excuse me for just conversing with our dear lover!" Fortunately, it elicited a small snort from you, hand covering your lips as your shoulders shook lightly. Your giggles were enough to quell their worries, even if it's just a little.

By simply being in the presence of your dearest lovers, little by little, the weight on your chest slowly dissipates, and your enthusiasm returns in your heart. By just seeing them bicker or stare lovingly at you, you know it's just going to be alright. You're going to be alright.

The Akademiya might've rejected you, but when you have Alhaitham and Kaveh by your side, who you know would support you over anything as long as it makes you happy by your side? What's seriously stopping you at this point? Their rejection doesn't mean you're not worth anything at all. It was rejuvenating in their presence, the motivation on continuing onwards with your project.

In between your lovers after Kaveh made your favorite food, listened to Alhaitham ramble about his recent projects, which quickly turns into another argument once Kaveh pipes in, you merely found comfort in what others thought was annoying.

Even while they quarrel, it's also quite the sight of them being so irritated at one another while you're in their arms, unharmed. Seriously, why can't they just shut up and kiss already? It makes your eyes roll.

And just like that, your rejection has slipped from your mind. They've made you feel so much better ever since you came back without even telling them the reason. It makes your heart swell, and before you know it, you've fallen asleep.

"They must've been so tired," Kaveh whispered to him, making sure you're laid properly in between them and pressed a loving kiss on your cheek.

"I agree, I can only assume that it has something to do with the Akademiya," Alhaitham responded, rarely agreeing with him. Kaveh's eyes widened in surprise for a moment but never spoke of it. If he did, he'd never hear those sweet words ever again.

He sighed, wrapping an arm around your torso and laying his chin on top of your head, not after he kissed your nape, earning a sleepy giggle from the ticklish feel. Kaveh would put aside his frustration toward the Akademiya for another day, what's more important was you, and he would do anything to keep that smile on your pretty face.

Alhaitham had his hand on your waist, rubbing circles with his thumb as he let you wrap your arms around his larger form, listening to you softly snored, watching your chest slowly rise and fall. The same he did with Kaveh once he fell asleep as well, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. You both looked so peaceful, it brought a smile to his lips.

"Good night," He whispers, pressing one last kiss on your forehead, and moved slightly when he pulled away, chasing his lips. His heart thumped at that, pulling you closer to him. "We will be here for you once you wake up. Always."

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[nikkicola]

in your arms, i am home.

aww i wish childe comes home to me! *sobs*

recently, you learned that if you hug ajax long enough, he’ll start to cry.

you remember the first time you met him: opening your door to this sweaty and bloodied man with ginger-colored hair who appeared as if he was about to pass out on your porch on a typical afternoon. he looked like the type of guy your parents had warned you about throughout your teenage years, like the guy who starts a fight with bigger men for the fun of it, like the guy who would give you nothing but trouble if you’re somehow involved with him. you would have shut the door the moment you laid your eyes on the boy, but the way he looked at you?

it affected you a little too much — how he reminded you of a lost child as he apologized so genuinely for disturbing your peace, trying so desperately not to reveal the wince on his face. 

he looked like trouble, certainly. but the way he rubbed the back of his neck, flashing you a boyish smile that fits him perfectly when you asked if he needed help, didn’t look like trouble at all.

thus began your unspoken tradition with this so-called ajax. he would knock on your door (sometimes at ridiculous hours of the night, most times when people could easily catch him through the windows) and immediately slump against your body with a hand over his arm, so the first thing you see is the goofy grin that almost never left his face, not the blood dripping from his wound. you would scold him for a second or two, before ushering him inside, allowing him to lie on the couch he's laid on more times than you ever had as you fret and fret and tend to the marks on his skin. you even let him stay for the night; even though he’s gone by the morning, leaving only the old bandages you wrapped around his torso as a reminder of him.

albeit a bit infuriating at times — when he spews some odd excuses as to why he’s here for the nth time this week and bleeding on your carpet but you should see the other guy! — you can’t lie that he’s charmed his way into your home more often than not. he told you he’s a toy salesman from snezhnaya, to which you only raised your brow, because how could he obtain countless injuries in that line of work? 

when his fifth visit came, you didn’t push further. it might be better to not let it disturb whatever’s blossoming between you two, and you know ajax thinks the same whenever the atmosphere becomes too quiet as you touch his skin in thought.

then he stopped appearing, as if he never existed in your life. as if he was gone. never to be seen again. thinking about it puts a dreadful feeling in the pit of your stomach. you never thought you would be this ridiculously attached to trouble.

a week passed by, followed by two, and eventually a month, and you realized you’ve grown so endeared by this man that his growing absence on your couch breaks your heart every time you spare it a glance. it’s gotten so painfully lonely that you find yourself sleeping on it every night with a glimmer of hope every time you hear a rustle outside. you rise from the couch every hour, walking past the first aid kit strewn on the floor to stay by the window with a bitter feeling in your chest. what would he think when he finds out you lose sleep waiting like he’s set off for war?

but can he blame you? when he’s made himself a constant in your home?

it’s been two months then since he last appeared. two whole months of silence that you used to be so fond of until you started to spend your day with the shared laughter and the teasing, your scolding and his whining, and those unspoken promises that he wouldn't worry you again when he notices your hands trembling near his wounds. he broke them every time, but at least he was always on your doorstep no matter what happened.

you had gotten so used to the domesticity of it all, that you weren't quite sure how you could go back to the loneliness he left you with.

but after two months, three knocks, soft and quiet you almost don’t hear, snaps you out of a daze. he's the only one who knocks on your door that way so he doesn’t frighten you. to tell you he's here. he's here like he promised. when you register the sound of it, you almost cry.

you’re greeted by the sight of him — that sight of him with the cuts and bruises and the blood a little more than usual. it used to startle you every time, but now he’s standing before you and you believe it’s a miracle. he almost seems the same as the last time you saw him, but as you stare into his weary eyes, you notice that he looks like he’s about to crumble a lot more than usual.

right there, he almost feels like an illusion. you blink. once. twice. your knees nearly buckle beneath you when he doesn’t fade away.

ajax and his smile that quiver when you run to him. ajax and the breathy “hi” from his bruised lips as you pull him down toward you. ajax and the soft laugh in your ear as you wrap your arms around his neck. ajax and the mass of bones that collapse against you when you tell him he’s home. ajax, strong and reckless and tired, who starts to shake when you don’t let go.

and there, you learn something about him other than his name. 

“i’m home,” he chokes out, pressing his hands on your back as he digs his head further into the crook of your neck. “i’m home.”