Alhaitham X Y/n - Tumblr Posts

FINALLY I FOUND YOU OMG I FORGIR TO LIKE THE POST

The Last Padisarah Pudding, Your Last Straw (Alhaitham x Reader)

An Alhaitham x Reader Enemies to Lovers One-shot

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: You and Alhaitham have been rivals ever since your first year at the Akademiya. But when things go wrong during a mission given to you by the Sages, you start to realize it's more than just a rivalry...

Finally, you’d be able to beat him. For the very first time, you would be able to break your stalemate – you had the upper hand in your personal competition.

For years, you and Alhaitham were pitted against each other by the Akademiya. The two of you were separately tasked with the retrieval of forbidden knowledge, the sages knowingly exploiting the deep rivalry that was first founded during your student years at the Akademiya. They, of course, were always right. Their choice of disciple for this mission was carefully curated from several different options, knowing the rivalry between you and Alhaitham would produce results faster than anything else.

~7 years Ago~

“Sage Salazar’s tests are notorious for the abysmal pass rate, don’t worry.” One of your classmates consoled another, their words mixing in with several disappointed and distressed conversations.

“What am I going to do, I’ll be expelled if I fail one more time!” Another upset student lamented.

“You can always switch to another Darshan, it’s only our first year so there’s still time.” Someone behind you murmured to a fellow classmate. “I’ve heard that Amurta has better professors.”

You sat back in your chair, smug. Of course, you were the best student in the class. You looked down at the tome before you. As a part of the test, you had to fill the entire book with thorough analysis on the professor’s chosen topic. You flipped the front cover open, admiring what was written in large red letters on the front page.

‘99’.

You were so close to perfection, you could nearly taste it. One more point and you’d have a perfect score. All your sleepless nights in the library were well worth the feeling of euphoria that overcame you today. You were such a rising star that you were certain you’d become a Sage in the future.

“I take it you did well?” A voice came from beside you. It was your classmate, and you recognzied him during some of the lengthy lectures when you would spot him in the back of the class, feet propped up on a bench, his nose in a book. There was no way he could pass Salazar’s rigorous exams if he couldn’t even pay attention in class. You smirked, turning towards your classmate – you recalled his name was Alhaitham.

“Yeah,” You nodded, giving him a nod as a smug expression began to grow across your face. "I got a 99.”

“That’s good,” Alhaitham nodded. “It means at least I’ll see you next year in the top class.”

“Oh, really?” You questioned, surprised that he even managed to pass, let alone gain a score that would allow him to join the top class. “What did you get?”

“100.”

You gawked. “W-woah, that’s great!” You sputtered, unsure how to react to someone who managed to get a perfect score on the most difficult test in a class he didn’t even pay attention to. “We basically got the same score, well done!”

“No,” Alhaitham responded bluntly, his curt tone taking you aback. “You got a 99 because that was all you could get. I got 100 because that was all there was to get.

“You…” your brows pinched together as your sentence trailed off. You were in complete shock that he could say something so rude when you had worked so hard for what you had.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you turned in your seat away from him. You didn’t know what hurt more – his tone, or the truth to what he was saying – but you knew for a fact you immediately despised him.

~~~

Ever since your first encounter with your overly-rational classmate, you were stern rivals – if anyone so much as mentioned the name ‘Alhaitham’ in your presence, you would bristle with anger and resentment. Somehow, the silver-haired student knew exactly what to do in order to push your buttons.

You stood in line at the busy food stall inside the Akademiya. You had just spent several hours in the library studying, and were absolutely famished. You always ordered the same thing from this place, and enjoyed your mid-afternoon snack that kept you going through hours of pushing your brain to its limits.

“What do you mean, there’s no more Padisarah Pudding?” You questioned, your brows furrowed and eyes wide in disbelief. 

“I’m sorry, we just sold our last one a couple of minutes ago.” The attendant behind the counter responded apologetically, “Is there anything else you might like?”

“N-no, i’ll just have some tea, thanks.”

The attendant handed you the cup of tea, and you mumbled your thanks as you turned away dejectedly. You supposed you could go down to the city for some of your favorite snack, but that would take up precious time you could be studying instead.

Resigning yourself to sit and drink your tea, you walked over to the dining area only to spot Alhaitham at one of the tables – and in front of him sat not one, but two Padisarah Puddings.

“Why, you!” Brimming with anger, you narrowed your eyes at the silver-haired classmate.

“Hm?” Alhaitham mumbled, not even bothering to look up from the book he was reading.

“Why do you have two puddings?”

“I was feeling particularly hungry today.”

Your eye twitched from his sheer audacity. Both of you were well aware that this was your snack of choice, and Alhaitham bought two merely to get on your nerves. Knowing his intention, you decided to bite back with your own remarks.

“Oh, I forgot how much you need to fuel those ridiculous man muscles.” You scoffed, “But make sure you count your macros correctly, because I have a feeling the extra Padisarah Pudding might throw them off a little.”

Out of the corner of your eye you spotted Alhaitham’s eyebrow twitching. He finally looked up from his book, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Perhaps you should watch yours too.” Alhaitham spoke poignantly. “They shouldn’t be an everyday snack, after all. Perhaps that’s why your fitness scores are the worst out of all your grades?”

Despite wanting to wrap your hands around his neck and throttle him right then and there, you turned around and began to calmly walk away – it was the best you could do to still seem like the better person. It took all your restraint in order to not snap and say something stupid and hateful. You made it all the way back to the library, to your seat at your desk, and immediately slammed your forehead into your open book.

“Damn you Alhaitham!” You groaned, wishing you could live your life peacefully without him.

~1 year ago~

There was nothing you hated more than the day you finally graduated from the Akademiya. Students from all six Darshans were gathered in the main hall, dressed in formal robes. You, as the Salutorian of your graduating class, were offered the chance to give a small speech. Of course, you were delighted to – if only Alhaitham weren’t the Valedictorian.

He followed up your speech with one that would haunt your dreams for years.

“Firstly, I would like to thank the Akademiya for allowing me to learn and thrive here.” He spoke, his overly courteous tone obviously fake to you, forcing you to roll your eyes. “It has been a delightful six years of study, where I’ve been able to research subjects I could only dream of beforehand. My success in my studies aren’t solely down to my own effort... I would like to thank Y/N Y/L/N for always being there to encourage me and motivate me to do better.”

You gawked at the classmate you hated – both of you hated each other. As Alhaitham continued his speech, you could hear whispers among the other students from where you sat in the crowd.

‘I do see them together quite often’

‘Are they in a relationship?’

‘That’s so sweet,’

‘I thought they were always fighting?’

‘Sounds like couples fights’

Your body began to shake with anger, and your face turned bright red as you stared daggers into your most dreaded rival. The whispers among the people surrounding you only fueled your hatred for the silver-haired student even more. Alhaitham met your gaze as he continued his speech, his expression completely unreadable while you glared at him in return.

“Hey, Y/N, I thought you hated Alhaitham?” A classmate sitting next to you leaned over and whispered into your ear.

“I hate him more than anything.” You muttered, despite the ferocious blush that stained your face. “I wish I could murder him right now.”

~Current Day~

Alhaitham thought this would simply be another boring mission given to him by the sages. Although the prospect of being able to use the knowledge capsule he retrieved for the Akedemiya, he would much rather be deep in the pages of another book while enjoying the seabreeze by Port Ormos. As scribe for Haravatat, he was often given boring missions that he could complete quickly, spending the rest of his allocated time relaxing and reading.

That was, until he spotted you walking around talking to locals. If this were any other occasion, he would probably approach you with something embarassing and humiliating in order to entertain himself, but this time you were dressed in student’s robes.

He immediately knew something was off – you, an Alchemist for the Akedemiya, who had graduated years ago, were walking around pretending to be a student on break. It was often that students would come to Port Ormos around this time of year to relax and unwind, and you were most certainly using this fact as some sort of ruse or disguise.

He decided to get up and move to a different location to read his book, picking one that was within earshot of you but out of your sight, trying to figure out just what you were up to.

“Dori, you say?”

“Most certainly. If you give her the right price and earn her trust, she’ll deliver anything.”

“Even information on a certain Knowledge Capsule?”

“Yes.”

Immediately, Alhaitham stiffened, realizing you were also here for a knowledge capsule, undoubtedly also sent by the Akademiya. He smirked, realizing this was yet another chance to beat you.

~~~

You had finally found the location where Dori, a merchant dealing in knowledge capsules, would meet prospective customers – a quiet courtyard outside a sleepy tavern at the edge of the city. You were there just before sunset, at your agreed meeting time, but there was no sign of the financially-motivated merchant.

You checked the small timepiece before tucking it back into your pocket, anxious to find leads and produce results for the Sages. The air was also beginning to get chilly; you were eager to get back indoors and eat a hot meal.

However, the last thing you expected was to hear a voice that haunted your studies at the Akademiya and your early years of your professional career.

“You won’t be able to find leads on the auspicious knowledge capsule this easily,” Your stomach twisted into a knot at the words you heard.

Of course, it was Alhaitham you came face-to-face with once you turned around. Your lips pulled into a terse frown, your eyebrow twitching with anger as the pieces fell together.

“You’re the reason why Dori is a no-show.” You growled, pointing a finger accusatively at your rival.

“She seems to not be very fond of me,” Alhaitham deadpanned, giving a nonchalant shrug. “I propose you find a proxy, or simply think of a more creative way of finding it before me. Although, I doubt you will.”

“Watch it, asshole.” You spat, “One way or another, I will beat you.”

Your face burning hot with anger, you stormed away from the courtyard. You no longer felt the chill of the evening – the fury pumping in your veins was more than enough to keep you warm.

~~~

After years of agonizing rivalry, when you discovered the scribe Alhaitham was searching for the same forbidden knowledge capsule as you were, you thought you must have done something to anger the gods in a previous life. The mere concept of him retrieving the knowledge capsule before you made your blood boil – there was no way you would ever let that happen.

Once you discovered you both were vying for the same mysterious object, you immediately threw your effort into overtime. Thus, you worked endlessly, even resorting to underhanded methods to obtain such an item. You even contacted a certain suspicious doctor, one who had been expelled from the Akedemiya, and was associated with the shady Snezhnayan organization known as the Fatui – one who was once known as Zandik.

“It’s about time for me to return to my Alma Mater.” Il Dottore sneered, his tone sending chills down your spine. “I’ll supplement your search for this knowledge capsule, in return for aid in bartering for my ownership of it once you return it to the sages.”

Those words echoed in your head, and despite knowing the Doctor was far too dangerous and underhanded, you still took his advice and used the device he had given you. It was a knowledge compass, a small metallic clock whose hands oriented to point towards high concentrations of knowledge. According to the Doctor, it was one of his latest inventions, and he was willing to lend it out to you if he could have the knowledge capsule you found using it.

And thus you found yourself at Port Ormos, wandering the streets disguised as a young child. The cloak around you hid your adult features, and you walked with light steps to mimic children in the street and avoid the attention of townsfolk who passed by.

Staring down at the compass, you watched as the handle flickered from left to right. In the back of your head, you had uneasy thoughts that you’d pay for taking the easy way out later.

Suddenly, the handle snapped towards one direction, firmly focused on some sort of mysterious power. You came to a  complete stop, realizing you were right before a small alley. You were about to enter it when you heard hushed voices prickle at the tips of your ears.

“One million mora. Take it or leave it.”

“No way, this isn’t even guaranteed to be the real thing. I would much rather go through a more reliable channel, like Dori.”

“It’s your loss, then. I can guarantee you, this is the real auspicious knowledge capsule. You have no clue how many people are trying to get their hands on it.”

At those words, you knew it was the right knowledge capsule. You tucked the compass away, shrugging your shoulders as you tried to put on your best childlike impression.

“Have you seen my mom?” You stepped into the alley and asked in a baby-like voice, your head facing the ground.

“What the hell?” One of the people in the alley exclaimed at your sudden appearance in front of them. 

You flashed forwards, snatching the glowing capsule before scaling the wall and disappearing over the rooftops. You jumped across several houses before disappearing into a knoll in the giant tree trunk that towered over the city. You might have mediocre strength compared to most of the skilled Academics, but you could move fast for short periods of time.

The three men you had just stolen the knowledge capsule from were hot on your tail, but you quickly ditched the disguise and returned to your normal appearance. With the capsule carefully tucked away in your pocket, you walked nonchalantly through the port. The men rushed past you, racing through the streets in search of a small child – not a lazy student who looked like they wanted to kick back and relax after their final exams.

“Where the hell is that kid?!” You heard one of them shout. You did your best to hide your smirk, slowly making your way towards the city gates to head back to Dottore’s lab.

What you didn’t notice, however, was the glint of silver hair that poked out from behind a stack of crates – Alhaitham looked up from his book at your retreating figure, realizing you had finally gotten your hands on what he wanted.

He knew reporting your collaboration with the Fatui to the sages would only result in you reporting his shady actions in return, so instead of following the rules, he chose to shut the book he was in the middle of reading and see where exactly you were headed. After all, it seemed like you had made progress – and Alhaitham couldn’t stand to see you pulling ahead in the game.

He always loved to piss you off. He could tell by the look on your face when when you were cursing at him internally. He loved how satisfying it was to beat you; you were always someone who did everything in their power to be the best, and it felt so much better to beat you when compared to beating any other academic he had the displeasure of getitng to know.

Relishing the idea of spying on you to figure out how he can outsmart you once again, Alhaitham began to slowly walk towards your direction. 

~~~

“Doctor, I’ve brought back the compass.” You bowed in front of the green-haired man, extending one arm as you held out the intricate device.

“Thank you,” Dottore reached out, his gloved fingers tracing along your forearm before reaching the palm of your hand where the compass rested.

You shivered at the way he unnecessarily touched you, wondering why he felt the need to do that.

“I presume you’ve already found the auspicious knowledge capsule,” Dottore smirked, although you couldn’t read his expression through the mask he wore.

“Y-yes, I’ve brought it to the sages already. We can-”

“Ah- ah- ah,” Dottore cut you off, shaking his head as he spoke. “I believe you still have it on yourself.”

Unbeknownst to either of you, Alhaitham was hidden away behind some of Dottore’s strange machinery that he had strewn aside from one of his projects he had abandoned. He listened in on your conversation, realizing exactly who you had made a deal with – and just how deep you had gotten yourself into trouble.

Your eyes widened with fear, realizing Dottore could see through your facade. He was correct – you had gone straight from Port Ormos to Dottore’s laboratory, with no intention of giving it back to the Sages just yet. This knowledge capsule seemed different – it glowed white instead of green. The contents of the capsule were kept vague, nobody seeming to have any idea as to what could be inside of it. You actually wanted to study the capsule more than anything, hoping that you could make some sort of incredible discovery that Alhaitham could never beat.

“I’m sorry,” You immediately shifted gears, understanding what kind of person you were talking to – if the rumors were anything to go by, he was one of the most terrifying people in the world – if he was still a person at all. You should have known that he would have incredible senses, and would be able to tell you still had the capsule on you.

“That’s okay,” Dottore stepped closer to you, his shadow completely swallowing you as he towered above your height. “After all, you’ve done everything I’ve asked for. How could I complain about a little lie?”

You began to cower with fear, realizing that nobody knew where you were right now. If Dottore ended up doing something to you, nobody would ever know. With a cold gloved hand, the Doctor reached out and cupped your cheek. With the other, he slid his hand down your side, his fingers slipping into your pocket to pull out the glowing capsule. 

Your lips quivered as you watched Dottore marvel at the knowledge capsule you had essentially delivered to him on a silver platter.

“After all, you’ll be my first subject to test its contents on.”

Your heart dropped like a rock into your stomach at the realization that Dottore had no intention of letting you leave. You immediately tried to escape, but his hand on your cheek instantly slipped around your neck, lifting you off of the ground as you flailed. Your hands immediately went up to wrench at his unyielding grip. It was like a ring of metal was locked around your neck – his hand simply wouldn’t budge. Your feet swung beneath you, your toes pointing as you tried desperately to find any solid ground to stand on.

“I’ll feed you the knowledge bit by bit, and see how much you can tolerate before you go insane.”

Alhaitham peered around the side of the machinery that hid his presence, witnessing the Doctor engrossed with you as he vocalized how he wanted to experiment on you. His sickening words settled uncomfortably in Alhaitham’s stomach, making the Scribe feel anger and fear that he hadn’t ever felt before.

‘What?’ Your mind reeled at Dottore’s announcement, somehow able to make logical connections despite the stress of the situation. ‘Knowledge capsules should be easily digestible instant knowledge! Could it be, that it’s this highly prioritized by the Sages for a reason, and it’s because humans can’t tolerate it?’

Let’s start with… two percent.” Dottore sneered, and you couldn’t say anything in protest as he cut off your airway.

You writhed more and more desperately as he raised the capsule towards your face, its colorless luminance enveloping your entire vision.

This just might be it. Your rivalry with Alhaitham might have finally gone too far.

You began to close your eyes, your body falling still as you gave up on trying to escape.

Alhaitham couldn’t stand it anymore, he couldn’t bear to watch you get hurt; Dottore was going to drive you mad with his experiments, or worse – kill you. He moved with breakneck speed as he slashed the inhuman Doctor’s arm clean off, rescuing you from certain doom.

A loud crash resounded through the laboratory as you found yourself flying across the room, landing in the arms of someone strong and warm. The white light was gone, and you blinked as your eyes adjusted to see Alhaitham hovering above you.

“WHAT!” The doctor exclaimed, and you realized his voice was now suddenly far away. You glanced in the direction of the voice to see Dottore standing on the other side of the room, missing one arm. Sparks were coming out of the stump that his arm once was, a telling sign that his body was actually part robot. Dottore’s other arm was frozen in the air, still holding onto the glowing capsule, and it seemed like he had some sort of process malfunction.

Alhaitham had carried you across the room to set you down. You felt his warm hands around your neck, and watched as his arms flexed and his shoulders strained. Suddenly you heard a snap and you could breathe again, the metallic fingers of Dottore’s robotic arm finally broken away from your throat. You gasped for air, sitting up on your own as you were finally free from the Doctor’s clutches.

“When will you realize I’m just better?” He smirked, helping you up.

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Not without the capsule.” Alhaitham spoke, running back towards Il Dottore. The robot seemed to still be malfunctioning as it didn’t react in any way to the scribe’s approach.

Alhaitham snatched the capsule from its hand, quickly returning to where you were still sitting recovering from nearly being strangled and illegal-knowledged to death.

You tried to scramble to your feet, but you stumbled. You were caught by an arm roughly hooking around your waist, lifting you off of the ground and racing out of the laboratory.

“Hey! Put me down!” You exclaimed, kicking in protest to the uncomfortable and embarrassing way you were being carried.

“Fine, fine.” Alhaitham relented, “I suppose we’ve fled far enough away now.”

He set you down on the ground gently, and you were finally able to find your balance and climb to your feet.

“That was incredibly dangerous.” Alhaitham warned. “Both of us aren’t afraid of underhanded methods of achieving our goals… but the Doctor is simply far too dangerous. You were incredibly lucky I happened to be nearby, otherwise you might have become a test subject for a mad scientist.”

“I did what I had to.” You crossed your arms as you turned away, scoffing.

“There were several far less dangerous methods you could have used… but thankfully we won’t be returning to the sages empty-handed, since I managed to get the knowledge capsule in the end.”

He withdrew the glowing capsule from his pocket, holding it in the air to examine it. It was at that point that you realized he had won yet again. Not only did he save you from certain doom at the hands of a mad scientist, but he also had possession of the capsule that you nearly died in order to obtain.

“Why, you!” Anger suddenly filled you to the brim once again – but this time it overflowed freely. You lunged towards your rival, hands wrapping around his throat as you tackled him to the ground.

Alhaitham was so taken aback by your sudden violence that you had actually caught him off-guard. His balance faltered and you managed to knock him backwards. He fell onto the soft grass, but his reflexes were far better than yours as he quickly rolled so that you were now beneath him. You looked furious – but he always loved it when you looked that way.

“Damn you, bastard!” You writhed beneath him, unable to escape the cage he had made around you with his arms. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes; this was the last straw. Time and time again, he had bested you while barely breaking a sweat, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why does beating you feel better than anything else in the world?” Alhaitham smirked as he stared down at you, his face hovering mere inches above yours.

You wriggled your arm free, about to land a punch on his smug face, when you felt something soft pressing harshly down on your lips. It was warm, soft – you suddenly realized Alhaitham was kissing you.

Despite how much he pressed your buttons and made you curse his existence, something drew you to kiss back – and it ignited a fire in your stomach. Instead of throwing a punch at Alhaitham, your free arm began to snake behind his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. He began to lower his body, pressing his chest flush with yours to the point where you could feel the heat radiating off of him.

You let out a soft groan as he slid one knee between your thighs, hooking your legs down and trapping you in the kiss. His fingers raked through your hair, and Alhaitham knew your hair always looked nice but he didn’t realize just how soft it was now that he could finally touch it.

Alhaitham pulled away, watching you pant as your face burned bright red. Your lips were slightly swollen from the kiss, drawing his gaze to them, and making him want to kiss you even more.

Your eyes raked down Alhaitham’s body as he hovered above you, and you burned with humiliation inside. You hated the way he made you feel – he always got on your nerves as if he knew exactly what to do and say in order to piss you off.

“Why is it always like this?” You sighed, gazing into his jade green eyes. Your silver-haired rival merely smirked.

“Even in the Akademiya, you were always too reckless.” Alhaitham responded. “Always too eager to be the best, as if you’d ever be able to beat me.”

“I hate you.” You mumbled, “The way you always beat me at everything so effortlessly, the look in your eyes when you put on that impudent smirk, how you know exactly what pisses me off the most. Why do you hate me so much?”

Alhaitham’s breath fell still at your accusations; he never realized the things he did made you think he hated you.

“I never hated you.” He responded bluntly, causing you to freeze beneath him.

“Y-you… what?” You stuttered, your blush deepening at the realization your hatred was one-sided. You were at a loss for words, and only managed to stare back up at Alhaitham.

“You’re redder than a tomato.” Alhaitham stated bluntly.

“Hey!” You quickly became angry again, embarrassed at how flustered he had easily made you – and how he had effortlessly kissed you, something that nobody before ever had the privilege of doing. You were always far too invested in your academic career to ever focus on romance or relationships. The kiss gave you a realization, awakening feelings for him that you had no clue ever even existed before this. However, the way Alhaitham immediately switched back to teasing you made you forget all of these feelings temporarily.

“First you stole my knowledge capsule, and now you’ve stolen my first kiss too! I can’t deal with this anymore!” 

“You’re just trying to deny you liked it.”

Once again, he was completely right.

“Fuck you, Alhaitham!” You lunged forwards, wrapping your hands around his neck once again. This time, however, Alhaitham let you push him backwards into the grass. The faintest smile was on his lips as he fell, staring up at your face. Your anger somehow faded into laughter as you tackled him to the ground. You were still angry with him, of course, but for some reason he had become slightly more tolerable.

~~~

FINALLY I FOUND YOU OMG I FORGIR TO LIKE THE POST

The Last Padisarah Pudding, Your Last Straw (Alhaitham x Reader)

An Alhaitham x Reader Enemies to Lovers One-shot

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: You and Alhaitham have been rivals ever since your first year at the Akademiya. But when things go wrong during a mission given to you by the Sages, you start to realize it's more than just a rivalry...

Finally, you’d be able to beat him. For the very first time, you would be able to break your stalemate – you had the upper hand in your personal competition.

For years, you and Alhaitham were pitted against each other by the Akademiya. The two of you were separately tasked with the retrieval of forbidden knowledge, the sages knowingly exploiting the deep rivalry that was first founded during your student years at the Akademiya. They, of course, were always right. Their choice of disciple for this mission was carefully curated from several different options, knowing the rivalry between you and Alhaitham would produce results faster than anything else.

~7 years Ago~

“Sage Salazar’s tests are notorious for the abysmal pass rate, don’t worry.” One of your classmates consoled another, their words mixing in with several disappointed and distressed conversations.

“What am I going to do, I’ll be expelled if I fail one more time!” Another upset student lamented.

“You can always switch to another Darshan, it’s only our first year so there’s still time.” Someone behind you murmured to a fellow classmate. “I’ve heard that Amurta has better professors.”

You sat back in your chair, smug. Of course, you were the best student in the class. You looked down at the tome before you. As a part of the test, you had to fill the entire book with thorough analysis on the professor’s chosen topic. You flipped the front cover open, admiring what was written in large red letters on the front page.

‘99’.

You were so close to perfection, you could nearly taste it. One more point and you’d have a perfect score. All your sleepless nights in the library were well worth the feeling of euphoria that overcame you today. You were such a rising star that you were certain you’d become a Sage in the future.

“I take it you did well?” A voice came from beside you. It was your classmate, and you recognzied him during some of the lengthy lectures when you would spot him in the back of the class, feet propped up on a bench, his nose in a book. There was no way he could pass Salazar’s rigorous exams if he couldn’t even pay attention in class. You smirked, turning towards your classmate – you recalled his name was Alhaitham.

“Yeah,” You nodded, giving him a nod as a smug expression began to grow across your face. "I got a 99.”

“That’s good,” Alhaitham nodded. “It means at least I’ll see you next year in the top class.”

“Oh, really?” You questioned, surprised that he even managed to pass, let alone gain a score that would allow him to join the top class. “What did you get?”

“100.”

You gawked. “W-woah, that’s great!” You sputtered, unsure how to react to someone who managed to get a perfect score on the most difficult test in a class he didn’t even pay attention to. “We basically got the same score, well done!”

“No,” Alhaitham responded bluntly, his curt tone taking you aback. “You got a 99 because that was all you could get. I got 100 because that was all there was to get.

“You…” your brows pinched together as your sentence trailed off. You were in complete shock that he could say something so rude when you had worked so hard for what you had.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you turned in your seat away from him. You didn’t know what hurt more – his tone, or the truth to what he was saying – but you knew for a fact you immediately despised him.

~~~

Ever since your first encounter with your overly-rational classmate, you were stern rivals – if anyone so much as mentioned the name ‘Alhaitham’ in your presence, you would bristle with anger and resentment. Somehow, the silver-haired student knew exactly what to do in order to push your buttons.

You stood in line at the busy food stall inside the Akademiya. You had just spent several hours in the library studying, and were absolutely famished. You always ordered the same thing from this place, and enjoyed your mid-afternoon snack that kept you going through hours of pushing your brain to its limits.

“What do you mean, there’s no more Padisarah Pudding?” You questioned, your brows furrowed and eyes wide in disbelief. 

“I’m sorry, we just sold our last one a couple of minutes ago.” The attendant behind the counter responded apologetically, “Is there anything else you might like?”

“N-no, i’ll just have some tea, thanks.”

The attendant handed you the cup of tea, and you mumbled your thanks as you turned away dejectedly. You supposed you could go down to the city for some of your favorite snack, but that would take up precious time you could be studying instead.

Resigning yourself to sit and drink your tea, you walked over to the dining area only to spot Alhaitham at one of the tables – and in front of him sat not one, but two Padisarah Puddings.

“Why, you!” Brimming with anger, you narrowed your eyes at the silver-haired classmate.

“Hm?” Alhaitham mumbled, not even bothering to look up from the book he was reading.

“Why do you have two puddings?”

“I was feeling particularly hungry today.”

Your eye twitched from his sheer audacity. Both of you were well aware that this was your snack of choice, and Alhaitham bought two merely to get on your nerves. Knowing his intention, you decided to bite back with your own remarks.

“Oh, I forgot how much you need to fuel those ridiculous man muscles.” You scoffed, “But make sure you count your macros correctly, because I have a feeling the extra Padisarah Pudding might throw them off a little.”

Out of the corner of your eye you spotted Alhaitham’s eyebrow twitching. He finally looked up from his book, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Perhaps you should watch yours too.” Alhaitham spoke poignantly. “They shouldn’t be an everyday snack, after all. Perhaps that’s why your fitness scores are the worst out of all your grades?”

Despite wanting to wrap your hands around his neck and throttle him right then and there, you turned around and began to calmly walk away – it was the best you could do to still seem like the better person. It took all your restraint in order to not snap and say something stupid and hateful. You made it all the way back to the library, to your seat at your desk, and immediately slammed your forehead into your open book.

“Damn you Alhaitham!” You groaned, wishing you could live your life peacefully without him.

~1 year ago~

There was nothing you hated more than the day you finally graduated from the Akademiya. Students from all six Darshans were gathered in the main hall, dressed in formal robes. You, as the Salutorian of your graduating class, were offered the chance to give a small speech. Of course, you were delighted to – if only Alhaitham weren’t the Valedictorian.

He followed up your speech with one that would haunt your dreams for years.

“Firstly, I would like to thank the Akademiya for allowing me to learn and thrive here.” He spoke, his overly courteous tone obviously fake to you, forcing you to roll your eyes. “It has been a delightful six years of study, where I’ve been able to research subjects I could only dream of beforehand. My success in my studies aren’t solely down to my own effort... I would like to thank Y/N Y/L/N for always being there to encourage me and motivate me to do better.”

You gawked at the classmate you hated – both of you hated each other. As Alhaitham continued his speech, you could hear whispers among the other students from where you sat in the crowd.

‘I do see them together quite often’

‘Are they in a relationship?’

‘That’s so sweet,’

‘I thought they were always fighting?’

‘Sounds like couples fights’

Your body began to shake with anger, and your face turned bright red as you stared daggers into your most dreaded rival. The whispers among the people surrounding you only fueled your hatred for the silver-haired student even more. Alhaitham met your gaze as he continued his speech, his expression completely unreadable while you glared at him in return.

“Hey, Y/N, I thought you hated Alhaitham?” A classmate sitting next to you leaned over and whispered into your ear.

“I hate him more than anything.” You muttered, despite the ferocious blush that stained your face. “I wish I could murder him right now.”

~Current Day~

Alhaitham thought this would simply be another boring mission given to him by the sages. Although the prospect of being able to use the knowledge capsule he retrieved for the Akedemiya, he would much rather be deep in the pages of another book while enjoying the seabreeze by Port Ormos. As scribe for Haravatat, he was often given boring missions that he could complete quickly, spending the rest of his allocated time relaxing and reading.

That was, until he spotted you walking around talking to locals. If this were any other occasion, he would probably approach you with something embarassing and humiliating in order to entertain himself, but this time you were dressed in student’s robes.

He immediately knew something was off – you, an Alchemist for the Akedemiya, who had graduated years ago, were walking around pretending to be a student on break. It was often that students would come to Port Ormos around this time of year to relax and unwind, and you were most certainly using this fact as some sort of ruse or disguise.

He decided to get up and move to a different location to read his book, picking one that was within earshot of you but out of your sight, trying to figure out just what you were up to.

“Dori, you say?”

“Most certainly. If you give her the right price and earn her trust, she’ll deliver anything.”

“Even information on a certain Knowledge Capsule?”

“Yes.”

Immediately, Alhaitham stiffened, realizing you were also here for a knowledge capsule, undoubtedly also sent by the Akademiya. He smirked, realizing this was yet another chance to beat you.

~~~

You had finally found the location where Dori, a merchant dealing in knowledge capsules, would meet prospective customers – a quiet courtyard outside a sleepy tavern at the edge of the city. You were there just before sunset, at your agreed meeting time, but there was no sign of the financially-motivated merchant.

You checked the small timepiece before tucking it back into your pocket, anxious to find leads and produce results for the Sages. The air was also beginning to get chilly; you were eager to get back indoors and eat a hot meal.

However, the last thing you expected was to hear a voice that haunted your studies at the Akademiya and your early years of your professional career.

“You won’t be able to find leads on the auspicious knowledge capsule this easily,” Your stomach twisted into a knot at the words you heard.

Of course, it was Alhaitham you came face-to-face with once you turned around. Your lips pulled into a terse frown, your eyebrow twitching with anger as the pieces fell together.

“You’re the reason why Dori is a no-show.” You growled, pointing a finger accusatively at your rival.

“She seems to not be very fond of me,” Alhaitham deadpanned, giving a nonchalant shrug. “I propose you find a proxy, or simply think of a more creative way of finding it before me. Although, I doubt you will.”

“Watch it, asshole.” You spat, “One way or another, I will beat you.”

Your face burning hot with anger, you stormed away from the courtyard. You no longer felt the chill of the evening – the fury pumping in your veins was more than enough to keep you warm.

~~~

After years of agonizing rivalry, when you discovered the scribe Alhaitham was searching for the same forbidden knowledge capsule as you were, you thought you must have done something to anger the gods in a previous life. The mere concept of him retrieving the knowledge capsule before you made your blood boil – there was no way you would ever let that happen.

Once you discovered you both were vying for the same mysterious object, you immediately threw your effort into overtime. Thus, you worked endlessly, even resorting to underhanded methods to obtain such an item. You even contacted a certain suspicious doctor, one who had been expelled from the Akedemiya, and was associated with the shady Snezhnayan organization known as the Fatui – one who was once known as Zandik.

“It’s about time for me to return to my Alma Mater.” Il Dottore sneered, his tone sending chills down your spine. “I’ll supplement your search for this knowledge capsule, in return for aid in bartering for my ownership of it once you return it to the sages.”

Those words echoed in your head, and despite knowing the Doctor was far too dangerous and underhanded, you still took his advice and used the device he had given you. It was a knowledge compass, a small metallic clock whose hands oriented to point towards high concentrations of knowledge. According to the Doctor, it was one of his latest inventions, and he was willing to lend it out to you if he could have the knowledge capsule you found using it.

And thus you found yourself at Port Ormos, wandering the streets disguised as a young child. The cloak around you hid your adult features, and you walked with light steps to mimic children in the street and avoid the attention of townsfolk who passed by.

Staring down at the compass, you watched as the handle flickered from left to right. In the back of your head, you had uneasy thoughts that you’d pay for taking the easy way out later.

Suddenly, the handle snapped towards one direction, firmly focused on some sort of mysterious power. You came to a  complete stop, realizing you were right before a small alley. You were about to enter it when you heard hushed voices prickle at the tips of your ears.

“One million mora. Take it or leave it.”

“No way, this isn’t even guaranteed to be the real thing. I would much rather go through a more reliable channel, like Dori.”

“It’s your loss, then. I can guarantee you, this is the real auspicious knowledge capsule. You have no clue how many people are trying to get their hands on it.”

At those words, you knew it was the right knowledge capsule. You tucked the compass away, shrugging your shoulders as you tried to put on your best childlike impression.

“Have you seen my mom?” You stepped into the alley and asked in a baby-like voice, your head facing the ground.

“What the hell?” One of the people in the alley exclaimed at your sudden appearance in front of them. 

You flashed forwards, snatching the glowing capsule before scaling the wall and disappearing over the rooftops. You jumped across several houses before disappearing into a knoll in the giant tree trunk that towered over the city. You might have mediocre strength compared to most of the skilled Academics, but you could move fast for short periods of time.

The three men you had just stolen the knowledge capsule from were hot on your tail, but you quickly ditched the disguise and returned to your normal appearance. With the capsule carefully tucked away in your pocket, you walked nonchalantly through the port. The men rushed past you, racing through the streets in search of a small child – not a lazy student who looked like they wanted to kick back and relax after their final exams.

“Where the hell is that kid?!” You heard one of them shout. You did your best to hide your smirk, slowly making your way towards the city gates to head back to Dottore’s lab.

What you didn’t notice, however, was the glint of silver hair that poked out from behind a stack of crates – Alhaitham looked up from his book at your retreating figure, realizing you had finally gotten your hands on what he wanted.

He knew reporting your collaboration with the Fatui to the sages would only result in you reporting his shady actions in return, so instead of following the rules, he chose to shut the book he was in the middle of reading and see where exactly you were headed. After all, it seemed like you had made progress – and Alhaitham couldn’t stand to see you pulling ahead in the game.

He always loved to piss you off. He could tell by the look on your face when when you were cursing at him internally. He loved how satisfying it was to beat you; you were always someone who did everything in their power to be the best, and it felt so much better to beat you when compared to beating any other academic he had the displeasure of getitng to know.

Relishing the idea of spying on you to figure out how he can outsmart you once again, Alhaitham began to slowly walk towards your direction. 

~~~

“Doctor, I’ve brought back the compass.” You bowed in front of the green-haired man, extending one arm as you held out the intricate device.

“Thank you,” Dottore reached out, his gloved fingers tracing along your forearm before reaching the palm of your hand where the compass rested.

You shivered at the way he unnecessarily touched you, wondering why he felt the need to do that.

“I presume you’ve already found the auspicious knowledge capsule,” Dottore smirked, although you couldn’t read his expression through the mask he wore.

“Y-yes, I’ve brought it to the sages already. We can-”

“Ah- ah- ah,” Dottore cut you off, shaking his head as he spoke. “I believe you still have it on yourself.”

Unbeknownst to either of you, Alhaitham was hidden away behind some of Dottore’s strange machinery that he had strewn aside from one of his projects he had abandoned. He listened in on your conversation, realizing exactly who you had made a deal with – and just how deep you had gotten yourself into trouble.

Your eyes widened with fear, realizing Dottore could see through your facade. He was correct – you had gone straight from Port Ormos to Dottore’s laboratory, with no intention of giving it back to the Sages just yet. This knowledge capsule seemed different – it glowed white instead of green. The contents of the capsule were kept vague, nobody seeming to have any idea as to what could be inside of it. You actually wanted to study the capsule more than anything, hoping that you could make some sort of incredible discovery that Alhaitham could never beat.

“I’m sorry,” You immediately shifted gears, understanding what kind of person you were talking to – if the rumors were anything to go by, he was one of the most terrifying people in the world – if he was still a person at all. You should have known that he would have incredible senses, and would be able to tell you still had the capsule on you.

“That’s okay,” Dottore stepped closer to you, his shadow completely swallowing you as he towered above your height. “After all, you’ve done everything I’ve asked for. How could I complain about a little lie?”

You began to cower with fear, realizing that nobody knew where you were right now. If Dottore ended up doing something to you, nobody would ever know. With a cold gloved hand, the Doctor reached out and cupped your cheek. With the other, he slid his hand down your side, his fingers slipping into your pocket to pull out the glowing capsule. 

Your lips quivered as you watched Dottore marvel at the knowledge capsule you had essentially delivered to him on a silver platter.

“After all, you’ll be my first subject to test its contents on.”

Your heart dropped like a rock into your stomach at the realization that Dottore had no intention of letting you leave. You immediately tried to escape, but his hand on your cheek instantly slipped around your neck, lifting you off of the ground as you flailed. Your hands immediately went up to wrench at his unyielding grip. It was like a ring of metal was locked around your neck – his hand simply wouldn’t budge. Your feet swung beneath you, your toes pointing as you tried desperately to find any solid ground to stand on.

“I’ll feed you the knowledge bit by bit, and see how much you can tolerate before you go insane.”

Alhaitham peered around the side of the machinery that hid his presence, witnessing the Doctor engrossed with you as he vocalized how he wanted to experiment on you. His sickening words settled uncomfortably in Alhaitham’s stomach, making the Scribe feel anger and fear that he hadn’t ever felt before.

‘What?’ Your mind reeled at Dottore’s announcement, somehow able to make logical connections despite the stress of the situation. ‘Knowledge capsules should be easily digestible instant knowledge! Could it be, that it’s this highly prioritized by the Sages for a reason, and it’s because humans can’t tolerate it?’

Let’s start with… two percent.” Dottore sneered, and you couldn’t say anything in protest as he cut off your airway.

You writhed more and more desperately as he raised the capsule towards your face, its colorless luminance enveloping your entire vision.

This just might be it. Your rivalry with Alhaitham might have finally gone too far.

You began to close your eyes, your body falling still as you gave up on trying to escape.

Alhaitham couldn’t stand it anymore, he couldn’t bear to watch you get hurt; Dottore was going to drive you mad with his experiments, or worse – kill you. He moved with breakneck speed as he slashed the inhuman Doctor’s arm clean off, rescuing you from certain doom.

A loud crash resounded through the laboratory as you found yourself flying across the room, landing in the arms of someone strong and warm. The white light was gone, and you blinked as your eyes adjusted to see Alhaitham hovering above you.

“WHAT!” The doctor exclaimed, and you realized his voice was now suddenly far away. You glanced in the direction of the voice to see Dottore standing on the other side of the room, missing one arm. Sparks were coming out of the stump that his arm once was, a telling sign that his body was actually part robot. Dottore’s other arm was frozen in the air, still holding onto the glowing capsule, and it seemed like he had some sort of process malfunction.

Alhaitham had carried you across the room to set you down. You felt his warm hands around your neck, and watched as his arms flexed and his shoulders strained. Suddenly you heard a snap and you could breathe again, the metallic fingers of Dottore’s robotic arm finally broken away from your throat. You gasped for air, sitting up on your own as you were finally free from the Doctor’s clutches.

“When will you realize I’m just better?” He smirked, helping you up.

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Not without the capsule.” Alhaitham spoke, running back towards Il Dottore. The robot seemed to still be malfunctioning as it didn’t react in any way to the scribe’s approach.

Alhaitham snatched the capsule from its hand, quickly returning to where you were still sitting recovering from nearly being strangled and illegal-knowledged to death.

You tried to scramble to your feet, but you stumbled. You were caught by an arm roughly hooking around your waist, lifting you off of the ground and racing out of the laboratory.

“Hey! Put me down!” You exclaimed, kicking in protest to the uncomfortable and embarrassing way you were being carried.

“Fine, fine.” Alhaitham relented, “I suppose we’ve fled far enough away now.”

He set you down on the ground gently, and you were finally able to find your balance and climb to your feet.

“That was incredibly dangerous.” Alhaitham warned. “Both of us aren’t afraid of underhanded methods of achieving our goals… but the Doctor is simply far too dangerous. You were incredibly lucky I happened to be nearby, otherwise you might have become a test subject for a mad scientist.”

“I did what I had to.” You crossed your arms as you turned away, scoffing.

“There were several far less dangerous methods you could have used… but thankfully we won’t be returning to the sages empty-handed, since I managed to get the knowledge capsule in the end.”

He withdrew the glowing capsule from his pocket, holding it in the air to examine it. It was at that point that you realized he had won yet again. Not only did he save you from certain doom at the hands of a mad scientist, but he also had possession of the capsule that you nearly died in order to obtain.

“Why, you!” Anger suddenly filled you to the brim once again – but this time it overflowed freely. You lunged towards your rival, hands wrapping around his throat as you tackled him to the ground.

Alhaitham was so taken aback by your sudden violence that you had actually caught him off-guard. His balance faltered and you managed to knock him backwards. He fell onto the soft grass, but his reflexes were far better than yours as he quickly rolled so that you were now beneath him. You looked furious – but he always loved it when you looked that way.

“Damn you, bastard!” You writhed beneath him, unable to escape the cage he had made around you with his arms. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes; this was the last straw. Time and time again, he had bested you while barely breaking a sweat, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why does beating you feel better than anything else in the world?” Alhaitham smirked as he stared down at you, his face hovering mere inches above yours.

You wriggled your arm free, about to land a punch on his smug face, when you felt something soft pressing harshly down on your lips. It was warm, soft – you suddenly realized Alhaitham was kissing you.

Despite how much he pressed your buttons and made you curse his existence, something drew you to kiss back – and it ignited a fire in your stomach. Instead of throwing a punch at Alhaitham, your free arm began to snake behind his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. He began to lower his body, pressing his chest flush with yours to the point where you could feel the heat radiating off of him.

You let out a soft groan as he slid one knee between your thighs, hooking your legs down and trapping you in the kiss. His fingers raked through your hair, and Alhaitham knew your hair always looked nice but he didn’t realize just how soft it was now that he could finally touch it.

Alhaitham pulled away, watching you pant as your face burned bright red. Your lips were slightly swollen from the kiss, drawing his gaze to them, and making him want to kiss you even more.

Your eyes raked down Alhaitham’s body as he hovered above you, and you burned with humiliation inside. You hated the way he made you feel – he always got on your nerves as if he knew exactly what to do and say in order to piss you off.

“Why is it always like this?” You sighed, gazing into his jade green eyes. Your silver-haired rival merely smirked.

“Even in the Akademiya, you were always too reckless.” Alhaitham responded. “Always too eager to be the best, as if you’d ever be able to beat me.”

“I hate you.” You mumbled, “The way you always beat me at everything so effortlessly, the look in your eyes when you put on that impudent smirk, how you know exactly what pisses me off the most. Why do you hate me so much?”

Alhaitham’s breath fell still at your accusations; he never realized the things he did made you think he hated you.

“I never hated you.” He responded bluntly, causing you to freeze beneath him.

“Y-you… what?” You stuttered, your blush deepening at the realization your hatred was one-sided. You were at a loss for words, and only managed to stare back up at Alhaitham.

“You’re redder than a tomato.” Alhaitham stated bluntly.

“Hey!” You quickly became angry again, embarrassed at how flustered he had easily made you – and how he had effortlessly kissed you, something that nobody before ever had the privilege of doing. You were always far too invested in your academic career to ever focus on romance or relationships. The kiss gave you a realization, awakening feelings for him that you had no clue ever even existed before this. However, the way Alhaitham immediately switched back to teasing you made you forget all of these feelings temporarily.

“First you stole my knowledge capsule, and now you’ve stolen my first kiss too! I can’t deal with this anymore!” 

“You’re just trying to deny you liked it.”

Once again, he was completely right.

“Fuck you, Alhaitham!” You lunged forwards, wrapping your hands around his neck once again. This time, however, Alhaitham let you push him backwards into the grass. The faintest smile was on his lips as he fell, staring up at your face. Your anger somehow faded into laughter as you tackled him to the ground. You were still angry with him, of course, but for some reason he had become slightly more tolerable.

~~~

After Hours

Synopsis: Alhaitham has multiple, very good reasons for not liking to stay after office hours. You're one of them. Word Count: 4.8k Tags: Female reader x Husband!Alhaitham, Spoilers for the archon quests, Fluff, Domesticity, Slight angst, Pregnancy, Morning sickness (pretty heavy on the morning sickness but nothing graphic, just mentions of puking + inability to keep food down), Pregnancy woes, Established relationship, kind of hidden pregnancy, Alhaitham is 27 in my head and so is the reader A/N: listen. LISTEN. I don't normally write pregnancy but I had this idea and HAD to let it out. There is nothing hotter to me than a smart, dependable man with a stable, cushy job that's utterly in love with you. I'm a gojo writer, but damn. Alhaitham has me feeling some sort of way.

"Given the recent developments, there are many researchers wondering about what will happen to their funding. Acting Grand Sage, do you have any-"

"I'll be taking my leave now."

"H-Huh?"

Alhaitham clears his throat and stands, his chair dragging against the floor. From high-profile staff at the Akademiya, to esteemed researchers searching for an answer, Alhaitham casually shrugs off the bewildered, confused stares they give him.

"It's 5PM," he says nonchalantly. "You can find me at my desk tomorrow morning at 9."

"B-But we're not done with the meeting-"

"Goodbye."

"Wait-"

"My work for the day is done," Alhaitham hums, effectively cutting off whatever it was that was about to be said. Silence befalls the room, tension growing in its stead. "Haven't I already made my stance on this very clear?"

For all that is said and done, at least they knew how to stop talking when he displays his displeasure. Maybe being the Acting Grand Sage wasn't that bad after all. There were very few that would dare challenge his authority.

"But Sir, our meeting just started..."

Maybe not.

"Well, you should have started it earlier." Alhaitham doesn't miss a beat, neatly gathering his documents into a pile for his assigned assistant to take away. There's a tiny smile on his assistant's face, the young, interning scholar finding the entire exchange amusing.

Alhaitham fails to see what could be soooo amusing about working past official office hours.

5:01. Alhaitham clicks his tongue.

"Acting Grand Sage," a scandalised voice begins, but the person he's referring to is in a rush. Alhaitham should be out of the Akademiya by now. He can't risk being late. "It is imperative that you give us the necessary instructions so that Sumeru can still function as per usual..."

He tunes the voice out. It's past 5. He doesn't have to listen.

If they could handle themselves under Azar's so-called leadership, they can handle themselves under no supervision for the next sixteen hours. Sure, years worth of rampant corruption was difficult to erode without work, but it wasn't as if staying past 5 would magically fix everything overnight.

Alhaitham would tell them to go home and leave it for tomorrow... But it's now 5:02 and he's running behind on time. Simply being within the House of Daena was a pleasantry he was not willing to give for even a second longer.

"A-Alhaitham!"

He walks past the old man, past Cyno, and he's out of the door, out of the Akademiya, in mere moments.

The passing scholars greet him, all up to date with the change of hands after the atrocities of the previous Sages had gone public. Various pairs of eyes linger on him. Seemingly overnight, he had become known to the public as one of the core few that had freed Sumeru's Archon and foiled Azar's plan.

A mighty accomplishment in the eyes of the people, indeed.

It doesn't take long to get to the Bazar, where his task at hand was. He's done this tons of times before, but with every passing day, he only seems to get pickier with the produce before him.

Yoghurt, Tomatoes, Ginger, Butter...

"Oh, honey..."

He looks away from a ripe tomato and into the eyes of an older auntie who stood next to him with a fond look on her face.

"You're going to stare a hole into that poor tomato at that rate."

Alhaitham has no idea who she is. Silently, he returns his gaze to the tomato pile and narrows down the select few that had passed his earlier inspection. He'd grab them, pay, and leave.

"Ah ah!" The lady laughs, interrupting his process. "Come, dear. Have these tomatoes instead," she says, offering him her basket of tomatoes. "It's the least I could do for the Grand Sage."

"Acting Grand Sage," he can't help but correct.

"Yes, yes, the Acting Grand Sage. Honestly, what does it matter! Come! Have these. I have a good eye for tomatoes, you know?"

Alhaitham can't help but agree. The tomatoes are perfect. If his departure hadn't been halted, even for those few minutes, he would have gotten to them first. Ripe, juicy, no blemishes whatsoever, fresh... They're good. Declining is the first thought that comes into mind. He has no need to owe anyone any favours. But how can he when he remembers who was waiting for him back home?

"Ahhh, don't be shy!" The auntie shoves them into his own basket, where a few ginger roots sat alongside some cloves of garlic and some extra spices. "You've done so much for Sumeru! This is the least we could do."

She doesn't seem malicious. Or looking for anything in return.

"...Thank you, then."

And that special phrase unleashes hell on earth. The moment the tomatoes make a touchdown in his basket, he gets swamped by the aunties and uncles at the bazar.

"Here! Have some fish!"

"Oh! Oh! Here's some preserved vegetables! Take these, too!"

"Acting Grand Sage! My mama told me to give this to you!" "Me too! Here! Here!"

It's comes and goes as abruptly as a tidal wave. There's not even a chance to reply to anyone, or reject anything. Before Alhaitham knows it, he's decorated with new groceries. Everyone who had gifted him something was long gone, walking away like nothing had happened.

For the first time in a long while, Alhaitham feels awkward standing alone in the Bazar.

"I'll take these..." Alhaitham says, sliding his personal basket to Housein. It's a little difficult to get his mora pouch out while holding so many items, but he manages. It's not like he can just abandon everything at the side of the pavement. There were too many prying eyes.

"Oh, they'll be on the house, Mr Alhaitham!" Housein grins, declining the mora. The produce seller looks pleased with himself. "The Bazar technically owes you for helping to oust Azar! Now the theatre can continue their performances!"

"I insist-"

"Really, it's alright!"

"No, I-"

"Alhaitham! Oh, my sweet boy!" Someone grabs his arm, whisking him away before he could get Housein to accept his mora. Greying hair frames the old lady's face, and Alhaitham recognises her in an instant.

"Auntie?"

"Yes, yes. Come," she ushers him, giddy with excitement. "I have some things that you'll appreciate."

"I don't think that's necessary," he sighs, nodding at the bags he was already carrying. He had fish and chicken slung over his shoulder. Not to mention the countless fresh produce in each bag... "Can it not wait until our next visit?"

"Nonsense," she swats his arm. "You will like what I have!"

Rationality and knowledge cannot override the cultural traditions and norms ingrained in each Sumeru citizen from a young age. Alhaitham follows the former Amurta researcher up to the hospital she now worked at during her retirement.

Dutifully, the Scribe stands in wait, ignoring the stares and awed whispers of the people as the old lady rounds the corner of the reception desk to dig through her stock. Save for a couple of patients and their attending physicians, the Bimarstan is quiet today.

"Here," she hums proudly, brandishing a bundle of pouches. They're beautifully embroidered, with patterns that he could easily identify to be from some of the Seven nations. "I got some supplements for your wife."

The mere mention of you has the tips of Alhaitham's ears warming. The lady might be old, but her eyes are still sharp as ever. She chuckles, patting his arm appreciatively, and some of the staff familiar with you and he smile to themselves, knowing something many did not.

"You two are so adorable," she sighs wistfully. "Come, I'll explain each one to you."

"Thank you."

The old pharmacist explains each supplement in great detail. There's a whole assortment available, from powders, to tea bags, to roots, and to pills and potions from each nation. All of high quality.

"I'm sure she'll appreciate it," Alhaitham says, setting down his groceries to pull out his mora pouch. Once again, he's declined.

"If you really want to repay me, then go take better care of your wife," she tuts. The old lady always had a soft spot for you. "It's not healthy to make her worry so much."

The reminder brings forth a surge of emotions that he gingerly represses for now.

"Of course," he bows deeply, "I will. Thank you."

"Ah, I shan't hold you up anymore. Off you go!"

Neatly packing his spoils for the day, Alhaitham bids his farewell and walks off in the direction of his home. Though, unfortunately, it's not fast enough to escape the various food stall owners...

Returning home is no easy feat, not when you're lugging home months worth of groceries. Still, as with anything thrown his way, Alhaitham manages. He's careful with his keys, making sure they don't make too much noise lest you wake from your slumber or worse, run to greet him. And - Oh.

"Habibti," he says, greeting you out of habit even if he can clearly see that you're asleep on the couch.

As quietly as possible, Alhaitham shuffles his way into his house along with all the groceries. It's almost feels like he's a thief in his own house.

The groceries are set on the floor, in a neat pile that he'll sort out later. The citizens were well-meaning, but he needed to do another check to make sure nothing was tainted. He braces himself when the bags crinkle against each other, but you don't wake. Good, he thinks. You needed the rest.

Shoes off, his hands washed, any fatigue laced into his muscles dissipates the moment he comes to stand in front of you. Alhaitham leans down to brush aside stray strands of your hair away from your forehead. His fingers ghost over your soft skin. You looked glowing.

"Good evening," he greets softly, lips pressed against your forehead. You stir, but he soothes you back into dreamland. His palm smooths back and forth between your waist and where your bellybutton was, and he smiles himself when he sees the corner of your lips curl up.

Gently, he plucks your hands from the knitting needles Kaveh had gotten you. The half-done blanket resting on the swell of your belly is removed, set neatly on the coffee table with the rest of your colourful balls of yarn. Alhaitham easily carries you, slipping his an arm under your back and the other under your knees.

Though he wants to tuck you back in bed, he knows you well enough to place you into the comfy armchair he had gotten instead. He leaves, only to return from your shared bedroom with a fluffy blanket to keep you warm. Tucking you in is an terribly short affair. Parting from you takes a lot of willpower.

In the time you're asleep, Alhaitham busies himself around the house. The groceries get checked, washed, and put away, and he takes a much needed shower. He's halfway through sweating the minced garlic and shallots when you finally wake, your tiny, sleepy voice making its way to him.

"Haitham...?"

The fire goes out.

"Yes, habibti?" He pulls his apron off, walking out of the kitchen. Warmth pools in his chest when he takes you in; how your blanket slides off your shoulders; how your eyes blearily search him out.

"Welcome home," you say dazedly, arms open and raised up to beckon him in for a hug. Alhaitham closes the distance in less than a second, pulling you in.

"Mm," he hugs you tight, mindful of your baby bump. His hand splays out protectively over your tummy, and a light giggle erupts from you as you bask in his warmth.

Getting down on one knee, level with the evidence of his, and your, love, he looks up at you and asks, "How was your day, habibti?"

"I was working on the baby blanket," you tell him, gesturing at the knitwork on the table. "I was thinking of making a few."

"It's going well?"

You nod, happily engaging him in conversation before he carefully nudges open a new door of conversation. One that you understood, but didn't like. High on pregnancy hormones (and on stress), he distinctly remembers you crying to him in the middle of the night, telling him that it felt like you were being interrogated whenever he wouldn't let up on the questions.

You had subsequently thrown up dinner.

And promptly fell back asleep on him.

Thus, the small talk.

"Did our baby give you any trouble today?" He asks gently, a hand gently circling your wrist. One finger traces unintelligible symbols against your skin as the other pressed against your pulse.

You shake your head slowly as he counts in his. "Just some nausea."

"And lunch?" He asks, switching hands. "How was lunch? What did you have?"

You shake your head sadly. "Couldn't keep much of it down. Baby bird didn't agree with it."

"They didn't?" Alhaitham frowns, a contemplative look on his face. "I see. Did you drink-"

"Did I drink the tea you made?" You raise a brow, completing the question for him.

"...Yes."

You were catching on. And fast. Silently, he pulls your hand towards his face to kiss the back of your palm, hoping that it would throw you off.

"Did it help?"

"It did," you tell him. The suspicious look you had softens. "It was very good. Helped with the nausea for a bit."

"I see. And did you-"

"Haitham," You admonish gently. "Stop being such a worrywart. I've been taking care of myself. These things happen. It's normal."

"Yes, habibti, I'm aware, but you're already in your second trimester. I just want to check if-"

Accustomed to this, you cut him off with words he can't ignore.

"I'm hungry."

"You're hungry?" He pauses. He supposes that you're bound to be, considering what you had just reported about lunch. "I just started cooking, but the people at the Bazar gave us a lot of food."

"Really? That's nice of them. Why?"

"As thanks," he says vaguely, squeezing your side. "There's a lot of it. Tandoori chicken, Curry, Kebabs, Wraps... Is there anything to your fancy?"

"Mm, I guess," you half-heartedly answer. "Then why are you still cooking?"

"You said you wanted Butter Chicken this morning."

The name of the dish makes your mouth water, the reminder perking you up. The baby nestled deep in your womb agrees.

"Grab something light," he says, recognising that expression of yours. You looked pleased to smell his cooking wafting through the air, only just realising it after the grip of sleep had loosened its hold on you. "I only just started."

"Okay-"

"Sit down. I'll grab it for you. What do you want?" Your husband urges you back into the chair. It begins, once more.

"I don't know," you roll your eyes at him, "I have to get up and see what there is, don't I?"

"I already told you what there is. If it helps, there's Samosas and-"

"I want to look for myself," you interrupt. "I'm pregnant. Not incapable."

"The doctor said you need to be careful."

"The doctor said that I can move around. That I should move around."

"Within reason," he adds, grumbling, just because. Helping you stand after your complaints, you hold him, hugging his arm tightly, and Alhaitham watches you waddle towards the kitchen with him in tow.

He never expected the pregnant waddle to happen so soon. Archons, he hadn't expected you to look so cute, either. You were partway through your second trimester and he can't imagine how it'd be like in your third.

"Oooh," you coo, and he gets dragged back into reality. "There's Baklava?"

"And Panipuri." He says, hovering over you. If he thinks about it, he's almost like a little fly... Even his colours matched. With the way you're looking at him, you must have thought of the same thing. "And Custard. And Cakes. And-"

"Oh! Pudding!" You excitedly nab the Padisarah Pudding out of the cooler, clapping. Alhaitham lets out a low chuckle at your delight, reaching over to grab you a teaspoon so you could enjoy your desert.

"Now sit," he tells you, guiding you to the kitchen island, where there was a chair. He had gotten Kaveh to design and make one for you as part of his rental agreement. "You can watch me cook."

"You're not letting me help again?"

He shakes his head. From temporarily stepping down from your work as a researcher, to repeating dreams, and to Alhaitham having to go away for a mission, you had been stressed out from all the back-to-back changes. Only recently had you been discharged from bed rest after the news that he had gone insane from consuming forbidden knowledge and was exiled had caused you to faint in the middle of Treasure Street.

Alhaitham prides himself on his rational decision making skills, but keeping you in the dark to the happenings in Sumeru's political sphere had been by far the worst decision he had ever made.

You had fallen sick, carrying a fever for five days and five nights as the doctors at the Bimarstan worked around the clock to keep you stable. Luck had been on your side for you to have been found by one of the physicians. He had almost...

Alhaitham shakes his head, focusing instead on the metal band around his finger. Cooking was the least he could do for you after everything you had to handle.

Ignoring the pang in his chest, he resumes cooking. The wok sizzles, and you're happily munching away on your pudding, offering him a spoonful here and there as his ingredients go in in a methodological order. He tosses in peeled and boiled tomatoes, spices, and marinated chicken cubes from last night.

"It smells so good..."

"I know."

"But why aren't you making more?" You ask, leaning over so he could feed you a test bite of the creamy dish. "Is Kaveh not coming home for dinner?"

"It's none of our business, habibti," Alhaitham hums. "Kaveh can freeload food elsewhere."

"Haitham," you giggle. "That's not very kind."

"What? Letting him stay here rent-free is kind enough. I don't have to feed him, too."

"You're making him build our nursery," you remind him. "And baby-proof the house."

"It's part of the rental agreement."

"Still," you huff, watching your husband roll up his sleeves before portioning the dough for your naan. "At least leave him some food."

"He can have whatever we can't finish. Can we agree?" He says, rolling the dough out into flat circles. "We have too much food from the people, anyway. He can have those. The Butter Chicken is yours. You don't have to share."

You're swayed.

"...Fine."

He graduated from the Haravatat. To put it loosely, he's a linguist. A knack for words comes with the job.

"Good," he hums, handing you a bowl of melted butter so you wouldn't feel left out. You stir it with a clean spoon, mixing in garlic paste and chopped coriander.

It's peaceful. Serene. The sizzling in the background is nothing but homey, nothing but comfort. Alhaitham loves it when you sing to him while he cooks, but today he settles for a spritely summary of one of the books he's gotten you.

"Thank you, Haitham."

"Of course," he leans over to peck your temple. After serving you a hearty plate, Alhaitham finally sits with you to eat. "Anything you need."

"What would people say if they knew I had the Acting Grand Sage at home like this?"

"They'd praise me," he deadpans. His own plate lightly clinks against the table. "Especially if they knew the main reason why I helped."

"Show-off."

Wanting to keep his cushy job at the Akademiya may have been what had spurred him to take on a core role in the planning of rescuing Lesser Lord Kusanali, but apart from that, he was not about to leave a year's worth of fully-paid, fully covered paternity leave in the hands of some old man that woke up and decided that he wanted to play god.

Even now, it still sounded ridiculous in his head.

Alhaitham and you were only aware that the Grand Sage had something sinister cooking up, but nothing had been concrete. Investigating further was on the top of your priority list until you were faced with the possibility, and eventual confirmation, of your pregnancy.

Being so unexpected, the news had hit the both of you hard and fast. After both of your priorities needed a complete upheaval, it was a scramble to decide the next course of action.

Having you step down from your work as a result of the rough start to your pregnancy had been hard to hide from the prying eyes of Azar, his minions, and gossiping researchers. The walls of the Akademiya had ears. The barest wisps of whatever Azar was planning that had gotten back to you gave you the impression that they had wanted you to join in on the later stages of their scheme.

Recuperation may have been the main motivator, but the likelihood that a blunt rejection would spur on heavy retaliation had been a major reason why you were urged, and convinced, to take a medical leave of absence as early in as possible. As quietly as possible. Your weakened constitution had only spurred the advance of this plan.

Your sudden request for long medical leave had formed the basis of a well-known rumour that you were adamant on not acknowledging, not when you had suspected Alhaitham to be on Azar's hit list. Few knew of your marriage to him, only that you were in a relationship with the Scribe. He can only imagine what types of words were said behind closed doors.

Those days had been tense. Your act—though it wasn't really an act at all—was convincing, but the Sages seemed adamant on having you stay on. They had even questioned Alhaitham about your supposed illness. Half-truths made the best lie, and when Alhaitham only had the truth to tell them, they had no choice but to turn to other avenues.

Thankfully, the rumours had all died out when Tighnari was invited by the Sages to check on you.

Your long-standing friend had done you a favour that day. Under the watchful eye of the sages, the three of you had shared a look that Tighnari easily interpreted. A strongly worded letter of recommendation for medical leave had been issued, and you were immediately granted long leave. The rumours were put out in an instant. On account for your contributions to the Akademiya and to academia itself, your leave had been fully paid for as well.

Alhaitham makes a mental note to send the forest ranger some gifts again after everything dies down. He's been thinking of taking you on a short trip to Pardis Dhyai so you could visit some old classmates and colleagues. Maybe some crates of wine for him and his subordinates would suffice...

"If you revealed everything, I think they'd have a heart attack first," you muse, picking up your spoon. Looking at you now, it's almost as though your pregnancy had been nothing but smooth sailing. You looked so peaceful. Happy and content and glowing.

"I love your cooking," you sigh between bites, taking meaningful chomps out of your meal. Eyes falling shut to savour the taste, Alhaitham can't help but chuckle at the blissed out expression you made.

It's not rare for Alhaitham to cook for you, especially after finding out that you were expecting, but the way your eyes always light up, glimmering with stars? It makes him wonder just how good his food is to you for you to always react like this.

"Good?"

"Mhm!" You nod happily, shoveling the Butter Chicken coated garlic naan into your mouth. The flatbread was cooked to perfection, just the way you liked it. Too busy with your food, you don't even bother with a conversation.

Alhaitham sits back, watching you eat, making sure that his unborn child enjoys his food, too. It was early on in your pregnancy that he realises just how picky his child was. Coupled with morning sickness, any food that wasn't made by him, your body would reject. He had been tense those weeks, pouring over countless texts in the library trying to find a solution that would guarantee both you and your child's safety.

He had tracked your food intake, just to see if there was any sort of pattern that would emerge. To his surprise, one did. The only meals you could hold down were either those made by you, made by those close to you, or his. The latter worked the best. Alhaitham still has that nutrition table in his office, updated to this day.

Really, it's a wonder how people hadn't realised that you were pregnant. After Sumeru's political situation began to calm, he hadn't bothered hiding it. What did people think he ordered maternity dresses for? Even now, the number of people who knew of your pregnancy was few and far between. Cyno, surprisingly, was one of them.

Oh, well.

After seeing that you showed no sign of nausea, he finally picks up his spoon.

"Shall we go for a walk later tonight?" He asks after swallowing a bite of his food. "The weather is nice today."

Before getting swamped by the citizens, he had been thinking that it would be good to bring you out. So far, the only interactions you've had were either with him, the doctors, the stray cats that would visit, or with Kaveh. Although you hadn't complained, he knew that you were getting lonely.

"Really?" You ask excitedly, biting into your coated naan. "Where to?

"Anywhere you want," he says, pouring another ladel full of butter chicken onto your plate. "But we'll take it slow, okay? You haven't been out in some time. I don't want you to overexert yourself."

You chew slowly.

"I'm not weak."

"I never said that."

"You're implying it."

"I did not."

After a bit of back and forth, in which he could tell you were thoroughly enjoying, he remembers something that Housein had told him earlier in the day.

"I believe Miss Nilou is performing tonight. Would you like to watch?"

"Really? I'd love to!" Compared to him, you had always had a deep appreciation for the Arts. It's been some time since you've seen a live performance. Eyes shimmering, you ask, "Can we go get some sweets at the Bazar, too? The baby's been craving it."

You didn't have to pull the cravings card to get it. Alhaitham would have gotten them for you regardless.

"If you'd like," he agrees. "I was thinking that we could get some more books, as well."

"What," you snicker, "the library you have isn't enough for you?"

"It's good to broaden your horizons. And I mean to get books for our child."

"Hm? Why?"

"Aren't you the Amurta scholar?" He quips. Then his voice grows softer. More gentle. "...I read that our child can start hearing in the second trimester."

The look of confusion on your face turns into a fond smile. "I'm not that far along enough, Haitham. That only happens later."

"Better now than never, don't you think?"

"Are you going to be reading to them, then?" You ask, resting your chin on your palm, a smile on your face as you tease him. "Are we going to have bedtime stories now?"

"Of course."

His bluntness takes you off guard, but Alhaitham fails to see how shocking this revelation can be. Why wouldn't he be reading to his child?

"Oh," you say dumbly. "I... Yeah. That's a good idea—Ah!"

Alhaitham's spoon clatters to the table at the sound of your punctured gasp. He's by your side in an instant, looking over you once, twice, thrice, as you hold onto your stomach, eyes blown wide open, pupils dilated.

"W-What?" Adrenaline rushes through his veins. "What's wrong, albi? What's the matter? Are you alright? What hurts? Stay here, I'll call for someone right now-"

"No," you whisper, grabbing his hand to stop him from running off. They tremble in your hold, and he swallows tightly past the lump in his throat. You stare silently at your belly, and Alhaitham, at you.

"Albi," he insists. "My love. Don't scare me. C'mon, we need to... go..."

Palm covering his, you guide his hand to your belly.

Alhaitham, the Scribe of Sumeru, the star of the Haravatat, for the first time in forever, is at a loss for words. Every letter and every syllable he's come to learn dissipates on the tip of his tongue, his mind blanking out into nothingness. Within him, synapses fire off rapidly, capturing everything about this moment. Everything refocuses onto what rests below his palm.

There's a tiny flutter. One that grows more insistent.

"Haitham... I think our baby is trying to say hi."

Bimarstan: Hospital in Sumeru Habibti: Term of endearment meaning Darling Albi: Term of endearment meaning My love

A/N: bc of this fic i'll have to make a new masterlist and update my pinned aaaaaaa okay goodbye it's time for me to return to my studies (and to gojo) [i say this but tell me why i wanna write about the time cyno found alhaitham at the bimarstan with reader...]

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

kissing you

cw: very suggestive themes, slight yan content with wanderer, self indulgent, overall fluff, afab!reader in some parts (overall, gn! terms used, reader wears make up/dress), terrible flirting. minors dni, mdni. user has a vision.

characters: kaeya, diluc, wanderer, arlecchino, al-haitham

kaeya has been staring at your lips for awhile now - as you talk about something that you ran into while out doing some sort of investigation. it's starting to make you nervous, the way he remains silent, bent down, his eye on your lips and his head tilted to the side.

"captain? are you listening to me? this this hilichurl camp set up nearby and -"

"yes, yes." kaeya says with a wave of his hand. "i'll have some of my people get on it." he pauses now, leaning in closer. you can smell his cologne. "say, did you get a new shade of lipstick?"

"i-uh, yes?"

"hmm." he gently cups your chin with his fingers, tilting his head to the side as he gently kisses you. "aw, it's not flavored this time."

all you can do is stutter before he bends in to kiss you again.

the fall night is warm, you're warm as you wrap your arms around his as the pair of you exit the manor for the night - the party goers dispersing and it's time for you to head home as well. the abundance of wealth diluc has always surprises you, on top of all his connections. he tells you about something, maybe it's another compliment in the list of all the creative ways he tells you how much he loves you, you're not sure but you're tired.

"shall i accompany you home tonight, my love?" diluc asks as he helps you into your carriage. "you are certainly more than welcome to also stay the night."

"ah, but we certainly cannot have rumors flying around just yet." you say with a tired giggle. playing hard to get is one of your favorite things to do - he seems to enjoy the chase some, at least.

"then," he gently takes your hand into his gloved one, those red eyes that always look into your soul and beyond, look into your own, as he presses a kiss to the back of your hand. "get home safe, okay? if you encounter any trouble, do not hesitate to return."

you smile, taking your hand back and bend down (silently delighting into the new height advantage the carriage gives you) and kiss him on the cheek.

"have a lovely night, diluc." yet it takes one more kiss to pull you out of the carriage and back into his manor.

he is irritated, agitated more like, with his pacing back and forth. you sigh and watch him, legs crossed and elbows resting on your thighs. you're getting dizzy at this point, but his frustration is honestly really funny.

all that had to happen was someone complimenting you today and he loses his mind. the entire day, he's been sulking and pouting and grumbling.

"hat guy," you call to him, gently. "are you okay?"

he stops in his tracks, staring dead in your eyes. "no," he grumbles. "i am not." you huff a laugh and shake your head. it's like you blink and he's blocking your view of well - the rest of the living room. you're not exactly sure what's happening, but your shirt is being pulled down and his lips are pressing against the tender skin at the juncture between your shoulder and your neck.

and he bites. you yelp a bit, but he doesn't pull away until there is a bright red mark there.

"you're mine, don't forget that."

"you never let me forget." you grumble as he pushes you down, his teeth sinking into more of your neck.

you are wholly naked after getting out of the bath, and sitting between arlecchino's legs, on her bed, as she brushes your hair. she admires every inch of you, on a daily basis. whenever you ask about her doing your hair, she simply tells you that she enjoys it and should she not pamper her loved one? so you always drop the subject and lean into this momentary peace in her chaotic life. the candle flickers some, its flame casting a gentle glow in the bedroom.

a clawed hand rests on your thigh and you peek at the full length mirror, she's set the brush down.

warmth blossoms through you as she kisses the back of your neck, trailing kisses down along your spine until she reaches midback. after a moment, she's tugging at your hair, forcing you to lean your head back as she kisses you on the lips.

"you're very beautiful." she murmurs.

"you tell me that often." you tell her with a little giggle. she hums softly.

"not often enough." she declares, her hand reaching for the brush again. "i believe i should praise you more. you are a good girl, after all." your face reddens at that and she looks even more pleased. another kiss is pressed to the side of your neck before she resumes her previous task.

you talk too much, al-haitham has told you many times - you like to visit him in his office at lunch every day, just to ramble on and on. you like to think he's listening, but with his eyes always glued on his book, you're never sure. but that never stops you (nor does it ever stop kaveh, the poor man sometimes stresses himself out over his roommates indifference). oh, you do this to annoy him most of the time, but lately, it's just scheduled and expected.

"and can you believe-"

your words are cut off when his lips meet yours, your eyes widen when he pulls away. you're stunned as you sit down on the comfortable couch, trying to comprehend what just happened.

"do you hear that?" he asks you after a moment.

"no. what should i be hearing?"

"the sound of sweet silence." al-haitham finally answers, and you finally look at him, while his eyes are glued to the book, he has a smug look to his face. oh this asshole.

Why is he so hot and simpable!!! Don't judge my made up word!!!!

Swell (Alhaitham)

TAGS: Alhaitham/F!Bunny!Reader, smut, breeding, fatherhood, pregnancy

Iɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴜsʙᴀɴᴅ ғɪɴᴅs ᴛʜᴇ ɢʟᴏᴡ ᴏғ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀʜᴏᴏᴅ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜᴛᴛᴇʀʟʏ ɪʀʀᴇsɪsᴛɪʙʟᴇ.

Keep reading

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。RIGOR — AL-HAITHAM.

contents. mild injuries (al-haitham), established relationship, fluff, really bad banter, al-haitham is left handed because i say so

notes. literally just 2k embarrassing words of you taking care of al-haitham after he’s injured from a trip to the desert. yeah.

“that stings,” al-haitham hisses, glaring at you—which earns him an equally as harsh glare back. “why don’t you just pour the entire bottle of antiseptic down my arm at this rate?

“don’t yell at me,” you hiss back, scowling as you dab at the (already clean) wound some more, “i’m not the one who came back with this. why didn’t you get it checked?”

to your utter dismay, al-haitham comes home from a visit to the desert injured. gravely.

well, truth be told, it’s not really grave. that’s just how you see it because anything beyond a scratch is enough to throw you into a fit of panic. he’s not really used to coming home to someone fretting over him like this—standing between his legs as he sits on the edge of the bathtub, dabbing ever so gently at the small (and hardly deep, he’d like to point out) cut on his arm.

running into eremites is an inevitable part of most visits to desert ruins. usually, al-haitham manages to come back unscathed, but sometimes, things don’t always go accordingly. in his defense, he’d thought he’d be able to dodge the blade of the eremite he happened to be fighting. al-haitham has the precision and athletic ability to not only manage, but excel at dodging things that are thrown at him. but still, even he has his moments of miscalculation, and just by a hair, he feels the sting of a blade’s edge tearing through the surface of his skin.

it’s unfortunate, but it’s not a big deal—at least, that’s what he thought. apparently, but not unusually, you have a tendency to disagree with him on most things.

“i was going to check it myself,” he says simply, “it would’ve been fine.”

“oh, i didn’t realize you graduated in linguistics and biology,” you raise a brow.

al-haitham is a well rounded man—he reads books from just about any subject so long as it’s informative and offers him new knowledge that can assist him in being well versed in any topic. more importantly, al-haitham rarely loses arguments, and in order to be able to always win said arguments, his understanding of most subjects is required to be thorough.

he knows how to treat a small wound or two, especially with as often as he lands himself in small fights as he explores ruins.

he looks up at you with an unimpressed stare as he mumbles, “i’ve taken at least a few classes from every darshan.”

“i hate you,” you huff. he exhales tiredly.

“it’s only a cut,” he argues, “there’s no need to be so worried—”

“i’m always worried,” you sigh, staring dejectedly at the injury littering his arm. no one should ever leave a mark over his skin—unless it’s you, and that’s only in a very different context. “does it hurt?” you ask quietly.

a small part of him feels guilty that he’s worried you over his well being, that he’s come home harmed even the slightest bit and disrupted your peace. but the larger and more rational part of him reasons that injuries of this nature are common and inevitable in trips to the desert like this, and he’s skilled enough to ensure that nothing serious ever happens.

still, for your sake, he mumbles, “no.”

it’s a bit of a white lie—it does sting a bit, and the antiseptic you pressed just a few moments ago didn’t exactly help, but admitting to you that he’s in any sort of pain is only opening up more avenues to making this into a larger deal than it really is.

al-haitham is fine, and he’s doesn’t need anything for the slightly inconvenient but not serious laceration on his skin. he’s sure of that.

but then, you cup his cheeks and press a small kiss to his forehead as you murmur, “my poor baby,” with a small pout, “i’ll feed you dinner, okay? they got your left arm.”

he wants to tell you that his motor skills are good enough that he can function with his non dominant hand—being left handed in a world catered for right handed individuals forces you to acquire functionality in both hands. but before he can open his mouth, you kiss down his cheeks, tracing your lips along him until they map out his jaw.

it distracts him for a moment, making hie eyes close and his breath hitch as he lets your warmth settle into the deepest crevices of his skin.

“don’t worry, haitham, i’ll take care of you until this heals,” you murmur sweetly.

and just like that, al-haitham is a bit conflicted now. in his two plus decades of life, he has always been an independent and capable individual—more than most his age. he doesn’t need the assistance of anyone, nor has he ever really needed the assistance of anyone. but you’re making it very hard to resist with the way you’re doting on him with affection.

“i’m fine,” he tries to argue, “really—”

“i should run you a bath,” you mumble, cutting him off. he gets the strong feeling you’re taking more to yourself than him. “and i’ll wash your hair for you too.”

even with the self control someone like him has, even he can’t help but sigh in content when your fingers slip into his hair, stroking through the strands and scratching gently at his scalp. it’s a bit nice—he has to admit that being taken care of, even as minimally as fingers in his hair, is nice.

“you don’t have to do all that,” he mutters.

“i don’t want you moving that arm,” you huff, “would it kill you to stop acting high and mighty for once? most people would take advantage of being spoiled.”

“i don’t enjoy taking advantage of others like most people,” he shrugs.

“you know what i mean,” you glower, rolling your eyes.

it’s a common understanding to most that al-haitham is a bit difficult—you don’t think you ever remember a time where he hasn’t been. he’s stubborn and always believes his views to be correct, and he’s not ashamed of arguing his point no matter who it is. you’re surprised that mouth of his hasn’t landed him in trouble yet—although, you suppose he’s not exactly in the good graces of most at the akademiya.

and as the akademiya’s acting grand sage, you admire his unwillingness to back down. but, as your boyfriend and the man you love, you wish he’d just compromise sometimes—and maybe let you wash his hair and hand feed him dinner for a bit as you nurse his injury back to health.

just this once….and maybe just a few more times later on too. you don’t ask for much, you like to think.

“i’ve gotten injuries like this before,” he reasons, “i’ve survived.”

you look at him with that delicate look of yours, the one that makes him feel like maybe he’s been living his life wrong this whole time. that it only became correct once his life involved you.

he thinks that’s might just be the case when you grin slightly, pinching his nose as you lean down, pecking his forehead and mumbling, “you don’t always have to just survive. you can indulge a bit, you know.”

“is that so?” he raises a brow, his good arm snaking around your hips.

“yes,” you hum, “if you give it a try, you might just enjoy indulging here and there,” you grin, stroking a thumb over his cheek as you admire his features, relearning every curve and every angle of his face. you don’t think you’d ever get bored like this—just standing in your bathroom, staring at him. you think you could comfortably stay right here like this forever.

maybe longer.

“i see,” he says slowly. al-haitham has always had a strong sense of control. but that was before you—he’s now forced to admit that his resolve is a bit weaker, just a bit shakier after you’ve come along. “does this begin with washing my hair?”

“and feeding you dinner,” you nod, tracing your thumb over his brow, letting it wander along the hook of his nose. “do you want me to kiss your arm better too?”

“is that really going to help?” he asks in amusement, making you giggle.

“oh yes,” you tease, “it was in a class i took from amurta. you probably didn’t take it—it’s far too rigorous for you.”

“oh,” he nods playfully, “of course. you’ll have to excuse my lack of understanding. not everyone can be as advanced as you.”

“here,” you grin—and it’s wide, and it’s warm, and it’s far too bright to ever be dimmed by the light of your bathroom as you stare at him, “i can demonstrate if you want. hands-on learning is always the best.”

“i must ask—have you ever learned hands-on like this with anyone else?” he raises a brow.

“and if i have? would that make you jealous?”

“perhaps a little,” he admits, fighting desperately to keep his own smile hidden. it’s hard not to smile when you’re around—how could he not when you swallow the sun with your lips every time they curve upwards in that honeyed way that they do?

“don’t worry,” you giggle again—and god, he thinks, he really loves that sound. he watches you lean down and kiss softly along the edges of his wound, tracing the cut slowly as you say, “you’re my only academic partner now.”

“i’m most grateful.”

“well?” you peck his shoulder, “a kiss helps, doesn’t it?”

“it does,” he chuckles quietly, “maybe you can show me a bit more.”

he’s given into you completely by now—you can tell by the way his body is relaxed on the edge of the bathtub. you can tell by that easy grin plastered on his usually blank face. you can tell by the way he leans into your touch every chance he gets. you can tell by the way he asks you to kiss his wound some more—the same wound he didn’t think you needed to care about.

but you always care, and he’s starting to understand you always will. so he stares at you hopefully, expecting just a few more presses of your lips.

so you do, kissing along his arm, peppering scattered pecks along his shoulder, pressing your lips gently along the column of his neck as he sighs softly and closes his eyes.

maybe being taken care of isn’t so bad—maybe he’s been missing out all this time….but then again, he thinks it’s just that he’s always been missing you. like he was born to find you. like he was made to be yours and you were made to be his and you both were made for each other if nothing else.

if nothing else, al-haitham is glad to be yours.

“does it still hurt?” you ask after some time.

“just a little,” he lets himself admit, “it’s nothing i’ve never dealt with before.”

“you really worried me you know,” you breathe quietly, making him squeeze your hips in reassurance, “don’t hide next time you’re hurt.”

“and will you kiss me back to health if i tell you?” he hums, leaning his head back to let you kiss his jaw easier.

you smile against his skin, letting your touch linger for a moment before you mumble, “of course, it’s only the best treatment. only those who take rigorous classes would know that.”

“good thing i have you to teach me.”

“yes, you’re really quite lucky,” you say with a cheeky smile.

there’s a warm bath waiting for him after this. and a hand fed meal. and perhaps a few more gentle kisses. but most certainly a lifetime of you—that much he knows.

i feel like i’m borderline violating myself by posting this bc it’s so self indulgent but here u go

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!

⑅ ۫ . ෆ ˟ ໒꒱ KAMA SUTRA: PRINCIPLES OF LOVE it’s silly, al haitham thinks, how madly in love with you he is, how that love defies all sense of logic in his mind.

al haitham x sub!f!reader ౨ৎ . . . nsfw — mdni ໒꒱ ⋆˚✩. established relationship / clit kissies + dry humping / foreplay heavy! / praise + petnames / cervix fucking / creampie / al haitham is only a teeny bit teasing + vewy sweet / 2.7k wc. feedback + comments supa appreciated!

“you’ll never hear the end of it if kaveh catches you with that.”

you paw at the thick book al haitham has laid over the thigh that you aren’t occupying, shying into his neck at the image painted on the cardstock page he’s flipped to— one of a man and woman adorned in fine jewelry, gold silks tumbling off their limbs as they embrace each other in what appears to be a rather compromising position.

truth be told, you’re not exactly sure what led your lover— someone who has rarely ever indulged in the pleasure-oriented faculties of life— to pick up such a text about sex and eroticism as the kama sutra, but the mere thought of it is enough to have heat swirling in your tummy and your legs squeezing around the thigh you’re straddling.

“there’s far more to the kama sutra than just… fornication. it’s more so a guide to living well and the nature of love. a whole section is dedicated to finding a life partner—”

“awh, does that mean you’re gonna…?” you giggle, wagging your ring finger in front of his face playfully.

al haitham’s ears tinge red at your insinuation, but he carries on with the faintest of smirks on his lips that he’s trained to remain invisible. “— and there’s another chapter solely demonstrating when and how to commit adultery.”

and just like that— your toothy smile turns to a frown, nose twitchy as you anxiously toss your hair. “better not be reading that chapter, hmph.” you mutter into the warm skin of his neck, lips curving into a weak kiss that you lay over his pulse.

it’s almost amusing to him, the prettiest pout on your lips and brows knit cutely as you try to hide your disappointment from him, turning your head away from his when he attempts to face you. he blows out a sigh, chuckling sweetly when he catches you and lays a delicate kiss to your cheek. “never said i’d be paying that part any mind, sweetheart.”

when you respond by wrapping your arms tighter around his neck and bury your face in his shirt, he can only bring himself to smile and shake his head as he feels himself enter a bit of a daze that’s full of yearning and craving. unnatural, for someone like himself, but fitting, for someone madly in love.

and so, he gently spreads your legs to slot his hips between them, hiking a thigh over his shoulder before lowering his face to the crotch of your panties, skirt pooling flimsily at your hips. “when a woman reproaches a man, but at the same time acts affectionately towards him, she should be made love to in every way.” he quotes from the book.

the warmth of his breath reaches through the thin cotton and your cunt begins to weep, clenching and oozing out slick in a silent plea for his fingers, his tongue— anything to relieve the weight of desperation that settles heavy on your stomach. and before your hips can involuntarily wiggle against his face in search of respite, alhaitham is already tugging your panties to the side to place a sweet, lingering kiss on your clit. 

you tremble at the sudden heat, soft features overcome with a dazed expression as if that alone is enough to knock all the thought out of your pretty little head. “‘h-haitham, what’re you doing…”

“putting theory into practice.”

and then he’s licking up the length of your slit, collecting your sugary slick in the dip of his tongue before letting it dribble past his lips in a mix of saliva onto your swollen clit— giving it another kiss, and another, and then some— until your chest begins to heave with pitchy whispers of his name, candied with a burning behind your eyes from how badly you need more of him.

“patience, darling …” lips are replaced with a growing bulge as his face levels to meet your own, sapphire-tinged emerald dancing across your features, from the delicate pinch of your brows to the flex of your neck. al haitham presses into you deeper, your bare and puffy folds moulding to the shape of his cock through his slacks, drenching the fabric with your milky cream.

his crotch catches onto your clit and in an instant, you’re curling your fingers woefully into the linen of his shirt, puffing out hot air against his jaw as you sweetly keen into him— f-feels good, ‘haitham, feels s’good.

oh, he thinks you're so pretty like this— clinging onto his bicep and painting his ivory skin with crescents of red, every slow grind of his clothed cock against your achy cunt drawing another eager, desperate whine from your throat. and you only fall more lightheaded as he nuzzles into your ankle dangling off his shoulder, kissing the bone before making quick work to remove the noisy anklet adorning it, because all he wants to hear are the sounds he coaxes out of you; he's sure they're the sweetest sounds to grace the earth.

“w-wan’… kiss…”

“what’s that?” he whispers against the inside of your knee, the swell of your breast, the hollow of your clavicle as he travels lipwards— covering every inch except the place you need to feel him most.

“i wanna kiss on my lips, ‘haitham!” you throw a tiny fit, and it’s nothing short of adorable when your tongue does a poor job of biting back your impatience. the uneven pout of your lips and the twitch of your nose have his veins aching with such a strong need to dote on you, tend to you until he rids you of the pain of your burning desire and all you’re able to voice is 50 different whimpers of his name.

“but if i kiss you here,” al haitham teases as he runs a thumb over the dainty curve of your mouth, stopping it at the swell of your bottom lip before releasing a strained laugh, chest knotted up with half-pleasure and half-pain, for all he wants to do is kiss and suck and lick and nibble the soft flesh— feed on it, even— and with a generosity wherein you’re ready to offer anything, everything, he’s almost positive you’d let him. “i’m afraid i won’t be able to stop.”

“don’t want you to stop… never ever.” your eyes are hazy with the light of the stars and you’re looking up at him with so much ardour, busying your lips with soft suckles on his finger while he hastily frees his cock from the confines of his slacks. and his gaze stays on you all the while— because you look so pretty like this and your words settle in the deepest depths of his soul and he thinks he could just devour you whole.

“never ever, hm?” he muses, eyes warm with mirth. you shiver and twitch under his gentle hold, where he kisses the corner of your parted lips, nosing along your cheek to place another on your brow, a final one against the hot lobe of your ear. his breath fans over your neck as he teases your little cunt open with his leaking tip, and you feel him smirk against your skin when you obediently spread your legs wider to accommodate his size. “you wouldn’t be able to eat or drink anything ever again.” 

it’s almost tragic— the soft, dreamy lulls of your head, the cute whimpers of his name, the saliva that pools and spills around the thumb he pops out of your mouth— he’s barely gotten the flushed head of his cock past your tight ring of muscle and you’re already so complacent, pliable for him. 

“don’t care… s’long as i have you,” you sniffle, fingers grappling weakly at the tufts of platinum and sage that curl around his neck, trying to lean up and nuzzle your nose against his. “please, kiss me?”

and it’s in the way you ask him: with dew clinging to your lashes and a timid quiver to your breath that makes him submit all at once, because what kind of a person would he be to deny his lover when she asks so sweetly?

and just as al haitham’s lips meet yours, he’s reprimanding himself for not giving you a kiss sooner. because on your tongue he tastes the spice carried through the sumeru wind and zaytun peaches and all the fluttering pieces of romantic prose you eat and gosh— alhaitham is the furthest thing from a poet— but surely, he doesn’t need any kama sutra to teach him about the love he holds for you in his heart.

he kisses you and kisses you and kisses you some more— smirking against your lips when you sigh happily and melt into the palms that smooth up your waist. “pretty little thing, aren’t you?

“uh huh, wanna be everything for you,” bringing your other leg to rest atop his shoulder, you respond wetly through the spit bubbling at your mouth and the blood that flows straight to your brain as he begins to fuck you languidly with his tip, watching your slick drip and ooze around the bulbous, red head.

he shushes your sobs sweetly, the pads of his thumbs dipping just at the edges of your eyes to collect any tears before they have a chance to be shed. “shhh— f-fuck— s’okay, you’re doin’ so well— doing so well for me.”

you begin to pant against the hollow of his neck as he eases his full length into you, all the ridges and veins decorating his cock that you’ve come to memorize over the months perfectly snug against the tightness of your delicate walls. his head falls forwards and his forehead bumps against your shoulder, a harsh, erotic groan escaping him when your little cunt begins to squeeze and clench around his cock, sucking him in further, all the way until he’s knocking at the sponge of your cervix and his pubic bone is flush against your clit.

your hips jerk at the sharp pulses of pleasure that build in your abdomen as he grinds into your womb— the sweetest, breathiest whines of ‘h-haitham, ‘haitham, s’big flood his brain because he’s deeper than he’s ever been, with the backs of your knees sticky against the bridge of his shoulders and your body quivering under him from how full you feel.

he does all he can to wash away the ache in your tummy— sliding a palm between the couch and the back of your head to cradle it, pressing hot kisses over the apple of your cheek as he continues drawing his hips back and forth.

and he continues fucking into your womb like this, thumb sliding in the thin space between his crotch and your clit to rub sloppy hearts on the puffy nub, and— oh, it feels like heaven.

“feels like heaven?” he’s asking, charmed by your guileless wonder as you wrap your arms around his neck and meekly tug his face closer to yours, rubbing your nose against his cheek like a puppy endeared to her owner.

“mhm, feel you here, ‘haitham… in my tummy,” you giggle in ecstasy, at the thought of his cock twitching wildly in you and his cum filling you up there, hot and sticky and oozing like sweet milk down your thighs— you want it so bad; you want it everywhere. to have him mark you with his seed as a proclamation of his love, fuck, you think you might cry.

and you do, because you want him— all of him so, so bad.

you sniffle when you feel the tears rush down your face and al haitham can only groan at how overwhelming everything is: the wild pounding of his heart against his ribs and the starry night reflected in your eyes and your walls hugging his cock so tight like it loves it. 

“h-hey now, ‘m gonna cum if you keep sucking me in like that— f-fuck.” 

he’s worked you up to that soft, dreamy headspace— where you’re hiccupping on shallow breaths and your bambi eyes are glazed over with honey and the words come tumbling out of your pretty lips before you have a chance to think them through. “cum in me— pretty please, wan’ your cum in my tummy, wan’ it everywhere—oh!"

it’s all so much, because it’s only been a short while but your words send a glow of numbing pleasure through his head, down his chest to his cock— and then he’s cumming— thrusts jerky before he plunges into you completely, spurt after spurt of thick white ribbon filling your womb, flushing your limbs full of warmth. and you’re right there with him, as the head of his cock twitches and drags over that spot nestled deep in your cunt and his thumb continues its assault on your clit, gravelly voice spewing sweet nothings into your hair while you keen for him sweetly.

you’re so pretty when you cry, so pretty when you cum— he tells you as he clears your face of any stray hairs before thumbing your tears away. the next few moments are silent and he takes them to admire you, the heave of your chest as your breath steadies, the almost doll-like pout of your lips, the precious way you suck your cheek in between your teeth to defy the flustered grin that forms under the curious gaze of your lover.

“don’t hide your smile from me.” the most tender smile graces his face when you begin to giggle shyly, eyes beaming with starlight and mouth curved up like the softest of petals. “so long as lips shall kiss, and eyes shall see, so long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”

another passage from the kama sutra, you presume. the delivery of the line, words thick and dripping affection like molasses would’ve made you swoon if it weren’t for the mere fact that it was al haitham saying them. in a failed attempt to suppress the onslaught of laughter, you suck you bottom lip into your mouth, only for al haitham to tut you with a playful roll of his eyes and a shake of his head.

“i suppose such poetry is unbefitting for me, huh?”

your legs slot under his arms to wrap around his waist more comfortably, heels resting against his back dimples and fingers tracing hearts over the dips and grooves of his biceps. he’s picked it up as one of your habits— something you do when you feel particularly endeared to him. “you should leave the lovey-dovey stuff to me.”

perhaps you’re right, he tells you through bated breath— perhaps he’s the furthest thing from a poet, a romantic, but there’s no denying how you make him feel like he could compose the greatest love story in all the universe— and it’s silly, he thinks, how madly in love with you he is, how that love defies all sense of logic in his mind. 

perhaps al haitham is the furthest thing from a poet, but if you were to tell him he was your world, he would tell you that you’re everything that makes the world good and beautiful and pure. tell him you’d die without him, and he’d tell you that he could still exist without you, but that’s all he’d ever manage to do. you can say that every day spent with him is like a story, and he’d tell you that you make him feel like he’s living in a fairytale— every second of every day.

but al haitham is a scholar, not a romantic, and such poetry is unbefitting for him. right?

from coco ๑‧₊˚ ෆ i squealed a whole lot while writing this .. my littl baby boy my prince my moon my sun my stars my everything ! i lov u so much so much so much so much foreva n’ eva n’ eva ;;n;; ! comments + reblogs + feedback of any kind ! r supa ! dupa appreciated !! thankies a billi for reading ໒꒰ྀི∩´͈ ᐜ `͈∩꒱ྀིა

As We Are, We Will Be

Summary: A nonsensical question is proposed in one singular moment between a stoic and stoic face in one singular universe.

Word Count: 9k (It was supposed to be short and sweet-)

Tags: Alhaitham X Fem! Reader, Smut, NSFW, Fluff, a lot of fluff, slight angst, soulmate au, slow fic, established relationship, married life, Soft! Alhaitham, attempts at comedy, mentions of aging, slightly jealous! Alhaitham, mutual pinning, soft sex, vanilla, safe sex (wrap it up), fingering, really bad expatiations of scientific theories and math, just two nerds in love.

Authors Note: Happy belated birthday and Valentine's Day to my favorite dendro nerd. A continuation of this piece, one I hold dear. A thought experiment based on nothing more than the feverish delirium of love.

It was just for a moment. 

A mere pasting instance in the contentious momentum of time when a glimmer caught your eyes in the muddled chatter of a crowd, a silver shimmer like starlight.

Interrupting your contemplation as your eyes impulsively search for the source.

A late morning on a Saturday, the markets and stalls were lively with families replenishing a week's worth of groceries. Bodies veering and easing through the bustle of the busty streets.

The wide breadth of life that moved all around you. Like a collection of small dots within the vastness of a universe. 

But amid the vast collection of blurry faces were the flicker of silvery locks refracting the late morning light. Originating from a pair, an elderly lady and an elderly man, their aged hands intertwined. 

Time had made her marks upon them, and gravity had pulled down on their wrinkled faces. Yet, the ends of their lips were pointed toward the sky. The corners of their eyes wrinkled as their gazes held each other's faces. 

From their view, do they not see the starlight hue of their hair? Instead, do they still see the vibrancy and youth of their locks which age had stolen from them? 

The image of each other reflected in their irises, was it from a time before the hands of gravity pulled on their creased skin and bowed bones? Would you ever be able to find out? 

“I wasn’t aware you had a hobby of people-watching.” A baritone voice ghosts over your ear. 

Jolting your head to your right, you come face to face with the interruption. Or perhaps, your mind finally registered Alhaitham’s presence just off to the side of you. His arms were weighted down with various bags. 

Oh, that’s right, the markets and stalls were lively on the weekend with families restocking groceries for the upcoming week. You and Alhaitham were no different. 

Glancing up at his ashen trestles and then scanning back at the starlight locks of the elderly couple, and then back to your husband. 

“Hmm, not quite. Just noting the fact your hair is the same color as an old man’s, Haitham.” You catch the subtle twitch of his brow. 

“Is that so? I hope you are aware you’re not immune to the inevitably of aging, wife,” Alhaitham returns your jest. 

“Well, with your hair color and grumpiness, I’d say you’re already halfway there.” 

“I needn’t expound on your equivalent levels of grumpiness, it won’t be long before your locks share the same ashen hue.” 

“I guess that’s why we get along then, dear husband.” 

“That’s one theory,” he huffs, a simple tone lacking any bite.

You pan your face back toward the crowd, partly because it’s getting harder to hold the neutral position of your lips, partly because your curiosity aches for an untold conclusion. 

However, when your gaze returned to the ever-bustling sea of people, the pair of starlight hues were nowhere to be found. It was regrettable, but expected, the elderly couple were nothing more than a pair of strangers in a crowd full of unfamiliar faces.

They were just a brief scene that disappeared into the moving tides of people. 

Leaving you with your unresolved musings. 

“Is there anything else we need for the week?” 

Alhaitham’s voice reels your consciousness back, swiftly you check the crinkled slip of parchment within your hand. Scanning down the list of written items, all with a neat little line crossed through their immaculately penned letters. 

“It looks like we got everything we need.” You tuck the list into your pocket. 

“Then it’s best we get home before our groceries are spoiled by the heat.” Alhaitham readjusts the bags in his hands. 

A hum takes its place as your response. Pivoting your body in the direction of your shared home. From the corner of your field of view, his strides were paced to coincide with your shorter steps. 

Studying the numerous bags occupying his hands, you can’t help but think it’s quite convenient to have someone as robust as your husband. Maybe it's these weekly grocery runs that are the secret behind his physique. 

Discreetly, your hand slowly slips between the gap of his arm and body, linking your elbows together. So that your frame and his could withstand the push and pull of the crowd’s contentious momentum. 

The neutrality of your lips had long slipped away, softened by the familiarity of his warmth. Even as your eyes were pointed on the path ahead, you had an inkling that a similar occurrence was mirrored on his lips as well. 

An inquiry your curiosity didn’t need to peek to resolve. 

That ache for an untold conclusion morphed into a new musing by the afternoon. 

The silver shimmer from that elderly couple’s hair truly was like starlight. Perhaps that’s the correlation that steered your thoughts down this winding path of pondering. 

Everyone, from those taking their first stumbling steps of youth to the slowed cane-assisted tramps in their golden years, is technically billions of years old. Or more accurately, the atoms and minerals in everyone are billions of years old. 

The carbon in muscles, the calcium in bones, and the iron in blood were all forged in the hearts of bygone stars. When those bright beacons burned out they exploded in one last finale, expelling those materials across interstellar space. Stardust that found its way here. 

Here within you, and here within the slow breaths of the man in front of you. 

After being around for billions of years, does stardust ever get exhausted? 

That would be a sensible explanation for why Alhaitham had snuck away amidst hanging up freshly washed laundry. 

His tall frame stretched the expanse of the couch as his starlight lashes were shut, shamelessly relishing in a nap under the streams of sunlight trickled in from the window. 

Squatting down you observe the guiltless expression plastered over his resting face, still deep in the trenches of sleep, a small huff passes through your lips. Well, this morning you did have him carry all the groceries from the market back home.

Your husband does deserve this little nap.

Trailing your eyes down his neck you note the lack of a pillow, then as your gaze travels further you note the absence of a blanket as well. Internally, your mind tsks at this forgetful habit of his. 

Although his body and yours still have youth coursing through your veins, it doesn’t mean they’ll remain as impervious as they are now later down the line, especially if preventative measures aren’t taken.

Like having a pillow to support one’s neck, or a blanket to prevent chills from plaguing the body. 

Standing back to full height, you retrieved the missing artifacts, returning with a plush pillow and light comforter.  

Even when his head was momentarily lifted to make space for the pillow, and when the spare comforter was draped over him, Alhaitham didn’t stir one bit. At times you can’t determine if he’s a light sleeper or if his stubbornness refuses to leave the plain of dreams. 

It’s a true wonder of life how Alhaitham’s able to sleep so soundly at night given his extensive naps. 

The vivid sunlight illuminated patterns upon his cheeks and trestles, causing the ashen strands to dazzle in their refraction of the afternoon light. A sight your eyes just couldn’t help but be enraptured by. 

Maybe you could blame the warmth of the sunlight, or maybe the serenity of this quiet Saturday afternoon, or perhaps even these fickle inquiries about his naps for the yawn that left your lips. Now might be the prime time for some research. 

Lifting up the comforter just enough for an opportunity to slip through, your body settles in the space right against his. It’s crowded on the couch, the cushions unprepared for two bodies to occupy its entirety, the open edge looming against your back.

Even after all the shuffling and pressing against his dozing frame, your husband didn’t budge a bit. 

Leaden lashes still shut and lips set in that all too familiar line, chest rhythmically rising and falling in time with yours. The very image of unperturbedness under the blessing of sleep. 

“You really are like an old man.” 

At that mere jab, the corners of his lips tugged down while his eyes remained closed. A quick slip that confirmed your earlier suspicions. 

“Who knew you were so talented in acting, Haitham,” you snicker. 

A muscular arm soon enveloped your form, further pressing you against his chest as if to silence any more sardonic quips from entering his ears. 

It was quite the challenge to stifle those giggles before they could erupt from your lips. Peeking up, there’s an ever-so-subtle lift at the corners of his mouth. An express which yours mirrored. 

Studying the details of the lips just a breath away, a new musing worms its way into your thoughts:

 When the hands of gravity and time start to pull down on his skin and yours the same, leaving wrinkles and creases in their wake, will the edges of his lips still curl like this? 

Would yours mirror the same? 

A second yawn sneaks past your lips as your lashes grow heavier with each fluttering blink. Claiming a corner of the pillow to lay your head upon, the seconds between each subsequent blink grew longer and longer until your lids were too heavy to lift. 

Perhaps the stardust in your bones was exhausted, craving a short rest in his warmth. 

--------------------------------

There’s something against your back and your legs are tangled in something, sensations which gradually alert your dozing sense back from the fog of slumber.

At first, you only had the strength to peek open one lid, then promptly shut it. But in the nothingness behind your eyelids, something was halting your limps from stretching the weariness out from themselves. 

You tried again, this time fluttering both sets of lashes apart ever so slightly. There’s a dry film coating your throat and mouth, feeling the impressions of the couch cushions and bundled comforter imprinted into your skin.  

What time was it?

Blinking away the haze of sleep just enough to notice how the golden rays of a star were missing. A gray overlay was plastered over the living room despite the ticking clock hands displaying that it was late afternoon.

Peering back through the window behind, observing the congregating insipid clouds blocking out the azure sky. 

A sure sign of rain despite the morning forecast. Rain… wasn’t there something left unfinished on the clotheslines outside? The groggy recollection of responsibilities creeps into the forefront of your mind. 

The reign of your weary limbs slowly returns, and your legs languidly attempt to stretch out from the reveal they were caught in. However, their movements only caused a pair of longer limbs to ensnarl them further.

Alhaitham’s legs promptly caught yours, stifling any prospect of escape. 

Your displeased whine was responded with a disgruntled groan by the man keeping your body locked against his. 

Wasn’t your back looming just about the edge of the couch when you fell asleep? So why are you in this position now?

Your body wedged between the plush backing of the couch and his solid frame, the comforter swaddling you also didn’t aid in your immobility. Brawny arm draped over your waist, halting your feeble squirms at freedom. 

“The laundry,” you mumble.

“Later.” A blunt interjection from a groggy voice. 

“It’s going to rain.” 

“Less than a 30% chance.” 

“Haitham…” 

Your husband simply burrows his head deeper into the leveled pillow, likely an attempt to leverage the cushy material to block out your grievances. His ashen lashes still stubbornly shut, much to your displeasure.

“Alhaitham.”

No fluctuations in your volume nor tone, but it was enough for one teal eye to peek out from under ashen lashes. Trailing up to a subtle frown to the furrow between your brow, then finally meeting your unamused stare.

“Laundry,” you try again. 

A silent stare down, one stone face gazing upon an equally stoic face, like an immovable object pressed against an equally immovable object.

Which one will defend their title of most stubborn today? 

His chest expands with a deep breath, grasp enclosing around your waist before his teal gaze shamelessly vanishes behind closed lashes. Robust frame pinning you further to the back of the couch as he continues to ignore your huffy floundering. 

“Release me, don’t you dare-” 

Your grievance was soon muffled by a gentle hand pressing your cheek into his palatial chest. A move that stupefies the irksomeness bubbling within until it falls defeated into placidness. 

“Whether it be now or later, they’ll be clean regardless, it’s quite comfortable right here.” The resonance of his voice vibrates in his chest. 

You respond with a humbled grunt. In terms of strength you’d always lose to your feeble husband, wouldn’t you? 

There’s no point in peering up, for the pleased satisfaction of his resting face would bring a sour taste to your tongue. Thus, you merely adjust your limbs, coiling your arms around to his back and pulling his form closer.

It’s crowded on the couch, it’ll be troublesome if Alhaitham were to slip off the edge if his back were to stray any further. 

At this distance, entangled so closely together, the soft beats of his heart in time with yours like a rhythmic lullaby beckons the heavy to return to your eyelids.

The gentle drumming of his heartbeat coaxes out a final sigh from you, lashes descending down as your vision dims back into the realm of slumber. 

Slow breaths and heartbeats homogenize into a tender duet, tranquil enough to distract from the sporadic pattering against the glass and gradually increase in consistency. 

A less than 30% chance of rain doesn’t mean that there’s a greater than 70% chance of no rain. It’s merely a statistical probability of 0.01 units of more precipitation at a given area in the given forecast area in the time period specified. 

Known as the precipitation probability, calculated based on two factors: 

The forecaster's certainty that precipitation will form or move into the area X The areal coverage of precipitation that is expected, then multiplied by 100. 

Thus, if the forecaster were 90% certain that 30% of the forecast area would receive rain, then the forecast displayed on screens would read as a 27% chance of rain.

A crucial bit of information that seemed to have slipped his mind midst a quiet afternoon. 

A troublesome miscalculation Alhaitham tsks at internally as he wrings out the pillowcase into a sink before tossing it back into the washing machine. Button-down shirts and blouses, wrinkled from the process of twisting out as much rainwater as possible, sat in damp piles awaiting their turn to be rewashed. 

As he measures out the detergent he can hear the rattles and clanks of the pot and pans from the kitchen. A late dinner in preparation, a task which was supposed to be his this week.

When he woke up to the pattering of rain drumming against the window panes, the afternoon long gone, it stirred an ever-so-sinking pit of dread. Second only to the unamused stare of his wife as she replicated an overconfident statement:

“Less than a 30% chance, Alhaitham?”

How unfortunate it all was, that the area where this quaint house resides was part of that 30% of the forecasted area.

Teal eyes watch the bedsheets whirl and fumble as they spin in the wash, contemplating the circumstance and further action. 

There is only one spare bedding set in the closet, so it’d be wise to allow you to have it for tonight as all the sheets and covers get rewashed and dried.

Your bed is about the same size as his, so two bodies wouldn’t have an issue fitting. At this rate, the two of you just slept in whichever bed was the most convenient. 

However, given the current state of things, Alhaitham wonders if he should prepare himself to brave tonight on his bare mattress with a flimsy spare blanket and pillow.

He might as well return to the couch for tonight if that was the case. 

The accumulation of all the years of science, mathematics, and research, Alhaitham wonders if there was ever a bright mind who came up with a formula to calculate how displeased one’s wife is.

What would be the factors plugged into the equation? And how accurate would it be? 

More specifics needed to be gathered, something the man couldn’t do in the refugee of the laundry room. Thus, Alhaitham must brave a journey into the kitchen. His slipper-clad footsteps are slow and methodical as the kitchen appears from around the corner of the hallway.

Sights honed in on your back as you stood by the stove, a rich aroma wafting through the air. 

Sleep still dusted your hair, evident in the few unruly strands sticking up erratically on your head, you made no attempt at fixing it. One hand is too occupied with stirring the pot on the stove, and the other set upon your hip.

Your stance wasn’t exactly tipping the scales in his favor. 

Cautiously, Alhaitham made his way to you. Stopping just a few paces as your eyes peer over your shoulder, stoic gaze halting him in place just a few paces away. The faded imprint of the crumpled blankets and couch cushions on your cheek.

His hand twitches with the urge to run his thumb along the impressions, but rationally warns him of the consequences. 

“The laundry?” No discernable tone in your voice. 

“Everything has been collected and wrung out, I’ll rewash everything tomorrow.” It’s best to answer your questions this time. 

“Hmm, they were out in the rain for quite a while now. They were dripping out onto the floor when you brought them in.” 

“I’ve mopped away any rain and mud tracked between the back door and laundry room.” Teal eyes quickly checked the aforementioned area to ensure they were pristine before returning to you. 

“Hmm.” You turn back towards the stove. 

The soft ticks of the clock accompany the waning drums of raindrops against the glass, the kitchen hood whirring as a ladle continues to stir in a pot. A quiet lull engulfed the home. Treading on the side of caution, Alhaitham inhales deeply. 

Without opening the box, one will never be able to confirm to fate of Schrödinger's cat. 

“What’s for dinner?” 

“Hmm? Well, it’s raining tonight, what better to eat on a rainy night than some Sabz Meat Stew, no?” 

He’s careful to not sigh too audibly, lest he goes to bed with a stomach half-full of instant noodles and that miffed stare of yours.

Alhaitham decides to hold his tongue as teal eyes continue to watch you add more spices to the pot. Studying how nicely the apron is tied around your waist. 

But it wouldn’t be wise of him to stand so close when the fabric of his shirt was still damp with rainwater transferred to him by the soaked laundry and sky. 

His chain of thought was interrupted by the chimes of your phone on the countertop, catching your eyes as well as his to peek at the over. A certain name is displayed across the screen. It’s as if the hands of fate wanted to throw more salt into his face. 

Bahram (Manager)

It’s a Saturday night, for what reason would an employer need to contact an employee so late?

Alhaitham’s focus shifts to your gaze which is still honed in on the screen. A bitter tinge crawls up the tip of his tongue, threatening to spoil his appetite. Perhaps, he wouldn’t mind settling down in his bare bed with just a spare comforter without dinner tonight.

“Can you reject the call for me? He can wait until Monday to get me to resolve whatever he messed up,” you scoff before rolling your eyes back to the stove. 

Swiftly he swipes to decline the call, let your voicemail remind Bahram of the concept of ‘off time’. The phone whirs again right after the first rejection, but he simply swipes decline again.

Pushing the device away with a bit too much satisfaction in his veins. 

Glancing back at your frame, he lets out a sigh as he relents. Resting his head into the crook of your neck, careful to leave a bit of distance between your bodies and to not hamper your shoulder’s movement. 

“Hm?” You hum expectantly. 

“It was my oversight tonight.” A string of words a bit unfamiliar on his tongue, but stubbornness hasn’t been in his favor tonight. 

“And?”

“I’ll be more cautious regarding naps.” 

“Hmph.” 

The lull returns, him resting his head on your shoulder and you continuing to watch over the stew. Teal eyes on you and your eyes on the stove. Until your shoulders raise with a deep inhale. 

“Go get changed out of that wet shirt then set the table, this bastardized version of ‘soup’ will be ready in 20 minutes.” You reach for a skillet just off to the side. 

He hums this time, the liberation from treading in suffocating lull tugs at the end of his lips. He surmises that laying his head against you for a few moments more won’t be so consequential. 

The patter of raindrops still splattered against the glass panes of the window, drops which warped and blurred the scenery beyond the glass. Not that there’s any scenery to look at, not with the dreary clouds crowding the sky. 

A heavy sigh huffs through your nose, curling onto your side as you adjust your pillow. 

A filling dinner, a warm shower, and soft comforters. Factors that should contribute to a restful night’s sleep, or at the very least make your eyelids weary with the weight of lethargy.

Yes, perhaps those components should’ve granted you entry into the reprieve of a dream. 

If it wasn’t for the fact you’ve intruded into the domain of slumber twice already today. 

And the tempter who lured you to do so currently has his arm wrapped around your waist. 

Alhaitham’s chest rises and falls against your back, soundly asleep without an ounce of guilt over the predicament he’s partly responsible for. 

Lifting your head off the flattened pillow, your body twists around to fluff the stale stuffing back up before settling back to your position.

His body rested against yours just as it would any other night. But there’s a weight at the corners of your lips, one only grew heavier as your ears witnessed each content exhale resounding from the man who seemingly stole your sleep. 

If you were crueler, you would’ve exiled Alhaitham to the couch or his barren mattress. 

However, he’d probably sleep just fine regardless. 

Canting your head up, you flip your pillow to the other side once more. 

Your rolls and rhythm were abruptly interrupted by the clasp of two harsh hands pulling your hips into his, the contours of his rigor now digging into the plush of your ass. Forcing a stunned gasp up your throat.

“It seems like my wife has quite a bit of energy.” His timbre deeper from grogginess. 

Ah, all the twisting and turning you did just to adjust the troublesome pillow must've disturbed him. 

The softness of your ass cradled against his pelvis through the thin material of a button-down, an item borrowed from his closet that you’ve designated as sleepwear, and his sweatpants. 

‘Serves him right.’ 

Your attempts to twist out from his iron-clad hold only ground your ass more against the stiffness, earning a grumble from his lips. 

“Oh? And who’s fault is it?” You retort, still protesting in his hold. 

Snaking one hand downwards Alhaitham presses against your lower stomach to arch your ass further into him. Leaning his face closer to yours. 

“Do you want me to take responsibility?” His whisper ghosts over the shell of your ear.

You could feel the pads of his fingertips tracing under the loose button-down.

“Shouldn’t you resolve the issues you’ve caused?” A huff leaves you.

The outline of his shape pressed along your skin, the plushness of your bottom contrasting against the rigidity. 

“I can say the same to you.” 

The pads of his fingers trail up your heated skin, crawling along your torso, feathering touches alighting your senses like sparks. Massaging the tired yet restless muscles. You sigh in contentment.

The billowing button-down dragged up by his vascular hand, unveiling your skin to the cool sheets. Wandering touches slow as they rest in the valley of your breasts. His fingers enclose around one mount, gently twisting the defenseless nipple.

“H-hey! Hmph-“ Barely catching a moan before it fled past sealed lips. 

“Hm?” His lips are now right next to your ears. “Surely you foresaw this, I’m just helping my wife with all her excess energy.”

His forgotten hand made its presence known as it kneaded your hips, cunning touches breaching under the feeble defenses of your panties. Effortlessly brushing them to the side, long fingers encroaching closer to their destination. 

Your thighs react, squeezing together to prevent him from venturing further. Unfortunately, it was all in vain, for his fingertips already dipped into an all too familiar sap.

“See, you seem quite eager,” he taunts.

Stubbornly, your body attempts to buckle away from his influence. Face firmly pointed away from his lest he peeks at your heated cheeks. 

Alhaitham abandons the perch on your breast to, two large hands attempting to tame the bucks and rolls of your hips. He releases a slow sigh into the crook of your neck. 

“Are you not feeling it tonight?” His hands remain where they were, but the strength missing.

At the lack of resistance, your hips seem to have lost interest in their writhing, staying within his yielding hold. Internally, you chiding your body for being so straightforward. The only thing blocking an answer from exiting your throat was that fickle ego of yours. 

“Won’t you allow me to make up for my blunders today, wife?” He soothes his hand along your leg.

With that stubborn ego of yours still biting down on your tongue, you simply nod your head. Feeling the heat of your cheeks reflected to you by the pillow. 

Permitting your thighs to give into the tow of his grasp. Allowing the grip of one large hand to pull your bent leg open, exposing your vulnerable cunt. Shielded from the view of the raindrops by a mere blanket. 

The hand snaked under your waist took swift advantage of the oppurtunity. Sliding one firm finger down to part the fold of your slit as his warm hand cups your greed. 

Alhaitham continued with the caresses of his fingers. Your lashes and lips pressed tightly shut, your leg still held in his tender hold. His slow breaths brush ghosting your skin. 

He spreads the slick along your slit, the tips of his fingers ever so often knocking against the bud at the very top. Teal eyes catch the sudden jolts of your body every time it happens. 

He moves his fingers downwards, slowly parting the now soft folds of your core. Feeling the subtle puckers of your entrance as his touch traced closer, more wetness dribbling out from the honeypot. 

The tip of his finger now encircles the fluttering hole. Your hip subtly bucked into his hand, as if to lure him in a soundless plea. 

Breaths getting deeper as your eyes follow his touch, the warm pad of his index finger twirling against your clit. Stoking a burgeoning fire with each slow circle. Your placid sighs fill the lull. 

His middle finger ventures past the entrance of your satin walls welcomed with a lewd squelch. Curling his finger against slick walls to test the give, he wonders if this hidden oasis is etched into his shape yet.

Diligently, his digit continues to sink in and out of your weeping hole, making your teeth sink into the flesh of your bottom lip. The squelches increased in volume as trickles of nectar began pooling on the sheets. Walls clamping around a lonely finger, it wasn’t enough to quell that mounting heat within. 

A second deft finger joined in, sliding past a hungry entrance. A tangled dance amongst gummy walls as they curled and stretched the space. The lewd squelches resounding in your ear, a whimper trapped in your throat. The heel of his warm palm now pressed flat against the soft mound of your cunt, every movement of his hand resulting in a grind against your clit. 

Each grind causes a hot flash to shock throughout your body, starting from your curled toes to the very top of your head. The jostling of your hips and legs gradually expels the blanket off the bed. 

“Mmph!” A whine from a sudden surge of bliss when his thick fingers curled against a spongy patch deep within. 

“T-there! More there!”

Your body writhes, no longer docile under the white searing pleasure frying the ends of every nerve within your being. 

He gladly obliges. Unrelenting rhythm slipping in and out of your convulsing walls. Ensuring to grind against that spongey patch.

 Your body twitches and flails in reaction. Trying to find some way to handle this surcharge of sensations. 

Legs instinctively wanting to shut together as if to cease this turbulent sensation, unfortunately, your pitiful strength gave no resistance against his rigid hold.

Piqued by the sweet tune, Alhaitham watches the scrunch in your trembling brows. He repeats his actions, another mewl leaves your lips as your head leans further into his shoulder.

The mellow pace of his fingers suddenly amps up, retreating out only to clap back in as his palm presses into the twitching bud. 

“Ah! Haitham.”

A pressure mounting up, a sirens call beckoning you closer and closer to a hazardous cliff’s edge. The only foundation for your sanity is thousand-count fabric, thus you twist the silk fibers as tremors overtake your body.

Walls clamping down to trap his thick digits inside as it spasms. Muscles tensing and quivering as your back arches away from his chest, parted lips with nothing choking past them. 

Three thick fingers sink deeper into your pussy without a hint of resistance, as a reward he makes sure to roll your overstimulated clit in firm circles with his palms. Judging from the violent tremors in your legs, it seemed you were almost there. 

Just at the cusp of rapture when your hand tangles into his ashen-locks, canting your head back so that your panting lips could capture his. Alhaitham returns to gesture with just as much fervor in his kiss, swallowing down your sweet mewls for himself. 

With a singular gasp, the siren’s call had beckoned your sanity to drown in the murky depths. It’s as if you lost control of your body to the possession of pleasure.

Eyes rolled back and lips broke away as breathy moans escaped the prison of your throat, a haze heavy over your thoughts, pride long lost amongst the gale of an orgasm. 

The beckoning depths of euphoria welcome your descent. 

Your limp frame rests against him. A light layer of sweat coating your panting chest, blurred vision merging and blending the details of the ceiling above the bed.

Alhaitham coaxes the contractions of your core, riding out the waves of their squeezes and sucks against his fingers. Earning an addictive whimper from you when his digits pulled away. Entranced by the glimmering string of nectar stretching between his fingers and your oasis. 

Trailing back up to your face, he notes the return of your hazy irises from their ogle of the bedroom ceiling. 

“Better?” Teal gaze watching the pants of your chest as they steady. 

‘No, not at all’, a statement just at the tip of your tongue, but your lips were busy attempting to grasp deep breaths. The surplus of vigor festering into unquenchable desire. To be closer, deeper, more. You needed more. 

Where words fail, action must take its place. Even before your mind finishes up the scheme brewing within, your lips catch him off guard, plush lips embracing his in a tender waltz.

Your body rolls back so that your breast can press against his chest through the thin fabric of his stolen shirt.

At the tender caress of your kiss, teal eyes disappear behind ashen lashes, the clasp of his grip loosening. Allowing you the mobility to finally pull your body on top of his, lips never once parting until you were finally settled atop his broad body.

A certain stiffness makes its reintroduction against your roused clit.

Breaking the seal of the kiss as a line of salvia stretches between your tongues, arms pushing against his firm chest to prop your body up as you gaze down at him.

“Still have too much energy?” Haughty eyes peer into yours, yet you can see the ardor oh so thinly concealed behind the brilliant teal. 

“What do you mean? Aren’t you the eager one?” You hum, rolling your hips against the rigidness trapped behind the prison of sweatpants.

“Hmm.” He sucks in a breath through his teeth. 

Large hands feel down along the plumpness of your ass as they drag a flimsy bit of fabric down your thighs. Daintier hands pull down the hem of sweatpants and briefs. 

A fair exchange. Him helping you out of those ruined panties, and you freeing him from a compressed prison of cloth. Discarded and forgotten along the floorboards as the fog of passion obscured them from further consideration.

His vascular hands slide down the curves of your body, settling on your hip as your legs plant themselves on either side of his body. Alhaitham coaxes the hem of his stolen button-down just above your midriff. Sharp eyes surveying the puffiness of your clit, glistening with temptation. 

Lowering your hips a breathy sigh leaves his lips and yours as the ridges of his cock drag against your slick folds. A few slow rolls starting from his leaking tip sliding down, thick veins skimming against your swollen clit. Precum mixing with arousal in a sinful concoction along his length. 

Perhaps he should convince you to participate in more naps if he knew it’d make you this excitable. 

“Oh,” you hum aloud, pausing your hips as you reach over to the bedside table.

Pulling open the drawer and rustling about a box followed by the crinkling of foil. Holding up the corner of the packet to your lip, tearing the foil while your gaze held his. Taking your time in dragging the condom out from its package. Easing it down his length while your fingers traced along, feeling each twitch and shudder. 

“You sure do know how to test my patience.” 

“Hmm?” You feign innocence. 

A pair of shaky breaths mingle as Alhaitham helps position his engorged tip at your dripping entrance. Your hand guides him while raising your hips.

Other hand pressing his chest down for support as your thighs sink back down, a shameful squelch accompanying heavy breaths as your walls welcome his cock’s fat head. Weeping pussy engulfing his girth in bit by bit until you clit kisses his pelvis. Sending jolts of searing pleasure that caused your satin walls to twitch and tighten. 

“Ah~” you sigh.

Drawing out his cock inch by thick inch, sloppy trails of arousal caught on each ridge before dropping back down. Earning low grunts and sighs each time your satin walls swallowed his girth. The rhythm of your hips is paced and controlled despite how Alhaitham’s fingers dug into your skin. 

A whine living your drooling lips with each slap of his skin against your clit. Pushing each tantalizing inch to stroke your starved walls until his skin claps against yours with a wet kiss. The bedframe creaks with each calculated movement, back and forth, back and forth the wood sings along. 

Your head was light, intoxicated by a feverish potion of lust and desire. Feeling him reach the deepest depths, fat tip grinding against those spots which made your legs falter momentarily each time.

Utilizing the strength of both your arms now to support yourself. However, the jolts of pleasure that shot up your spine with each roll of your hips were too maddening to stop. 

His calloused fingers massage circles into your hips. Squeezing the plush flesh to ground his sanity, watching your lewd face as you shamelessly bounced on him for your pleasure. Observing the subtle ripples with each slap of your hips and the jumps of your perky breast. 

The ghostly touches of your fingers skim across his lips, prompting his eyes to connect with yours. Lush and glossy lips parted with your deep pants as your lust-hazed eyes peer down at him, unspoken plea inscribed within them. Who is he to not fulfill your desires?

Lurching his upper body up, he answers your plea, capturing your lips with his. Swiping his tongue against your bottom lip, deepening the kiss. A messy and feverish tangle as if to replace the air in your lungs with his. 

Mewls and whimpers muffled by his skin, your hands moving to perch themselves on his broad shoulders. Your quivering legs grew limp as the strength of his hands took over. Barely processing the sweet nothings whispered as your core relishes in the fullness. Like an ache that’s been finally satisfied. 

He wondered if tonight’s excessive vigor was fraying his control, or if your body was just this addictive. 

By now any notion of decency and integrity has long left you, your hand clawing into his shoulders, marking him with the scars of rapture. A harsh thrust of his hips recoils through you, a wanton moan reverbing off the walls as it forces your tangled lips to part. 

Tongue unable to produce anything other than strained moans, your head nods into his broad shoulder as your hips ground against his. The wet squelch announces the reciprocation of your walls. 

The intervals of those unrelenting rams increasing between the tender thrusts, half-lidded eyes trained on the shivers of your body. Cock sliding against satin ridges of your wall. Grunts and pants reverberate through his throat, teeth clenching as your heat engulfs him again. Reaching deeper into your welcoming core as your lips fall open. 

“Is this not enough?” You could feel the mirth in his whisper. 

Closer, deeper, more. You want more. Walls aching for more, for his girth to jostle your core more, to extinguish this all-consuming heat within you. Hips floundering in harmony with breathy mewls. 

Pressing libidinous kisses along his throat feeling the vibrations of his grunts and pants, a deep chuckle was soon felt against your lips.

“Good grief you are a greedy little thing aren’t you.” 

A deafening slam of skin resounds through the heavy air, swiftly followed by another and another. A new tempo in this waltz of passion takes over like a wave sweeping both of you out to a sea of indulgence.

Possessed by the desperation of chasing a white light, your hand rakes deeper into his toned arms. Seizing anything to prevent your mind from abandoning your sinful body as his girth twitches within your velvety folds. 

Sanity like a foolish sailor who’s beckoned by the lure of a siren’s voice, uncaring of the rocks which will sink them to the very bottom of the bemused tides. Keening against your husband shamelessly, a shameless wife on the cusp of her second fall into ecstasy. 

The heavy scent of lust, the smothering heat, his unrelenting and unshakable thrusts amalgamating into the spark that lit your nerves alight. Toes arched into the air and eyes reaching the back of your head. Sobs and incoherent babbles resounding through the room. 

Your devious walls clamped around his dick with maddening convulsions, gummy muscles suckling against his girth eager to quell your aching greed. It was too much. 

His fingers claw into your soft hips, pressing your cunt flush against his hips with a sloppy slap of skin. The bulbous tip prodding against that weakness deep within you. Bruising grip holding your body in place as his lips crash back into yours.

Swallowing down his breathless groans with your sweet mewls and praddles.

A heat is spilled into the rubber, making your greedy walls quiver amidst the aftershocks of ecstasy. Alhaitham’s hips twitch with each subsequent rip of his orgasm, thrusting his length further into your crowded cavity with each one. The filthiness of it all prolongs your sinful depravity. 

Chest expanding with pants, your lopsided shirt falling further down your shoulder. Your eyes return from seeing blinding white, exhaustion drenching each fiber of your body.

Limp figure crumbling against your husband as his back lays back on the creaking headboard. Even before your worn mind could conjure a coherent thought, your hands caress his starlight tresses. 

As his own breath evades him Alhaitham releases one hand to cup your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your smoldering skin, guiding your lips back to his. 

Basking in the warmth forged between your bodies, between drumming heartbeats and breathless lungs. 

Two bodies lay under silken sheets, skin freshly wiped clean of sweat as the crisp breeze brushed against the curtains gradually erasing the sinful haze. The cool air aids your rising and falling chest to pace itself. 

Muscles and bones heavy with fatigue, yet your eyes couldn’t bring themselves to retire behind shut lids. Not when those dreary clouds have finally retreated. 

The moon hangs high in the sky, finally free from the shroud of rain clouds, she sits among the twinkling dots. Twinkling dots were in actuality brilliant stars, some even larger and brighter than the beloved sun. 

Glimmering lustrously as they traverse through the contentious vacuum of space and past other nameless stars. A scene from a late-morning market trip wanders its way back from the depths of your memory, bringing its musings with it.

“Something on your mind?” A timbre voice beckons your conscious mind back from its trek.

Teal eyes set upon yours as your heads rest on plush pillows, just a breath away from one another.

“Hm, just senseless musings.” Your gaze shifts away from the window. 

In a changed world with millions of hands will your hands and his find each other to make two hairs of hands?

In a different time with a million pairs of legs, will your steps and his steps still coincide in time with each other 

In a new life with a sea of new faces, will a stoic face and another stoic face spot each other in the crowd? 

What is the likelihood of those odds? 

“If you keep letting your thoughts fester, it’ll only bring trouble upon yourself in the morning from sleep deprivation.” He shifts his position, supporting his cheek on his fist as he stares down at your face. 

You sigh because he spoke exactly what those whispers of rationale were urging you, but the scoffs of pride had deemed these rampant inquiries ‘childish’. However, it’s a bit hard to avoid his eyes now. 

“I was just musing about the soulmates concept again,” you confess. 

Alhaitham hums in curiosity. 

“Do you…” You take a deep breath, forcing the hard-to-vocalize question from your tongue. “Do you think we’ll only be together in this life?” 

He’s silent. Just the muted chorus of Summer crickets rejoicing over the conclusion of a rainstorm resounding through the space.

“In a different time, a different universe, or the next life, do you think we’ll be soulmates again?” You muster together the courage to peer up at his face. 

“I don’t recall ever reading an article or paper related to this topic, so it’ll be convoluted to get an answer.” He brings his other hand to his face, signifying his musings. 

Right, there isn’t even a definitive answer for what happens after life passes, an afterlife, a cycle, or nothing, no one knows. Was this the only universe where life exists or are there infinitely many far out there in the stars? Does anyone know?

Your hand pulls your blanket up to your face, partially to cover the growing shame creeping up your face. That haughty voice within was right, these baseless questions are silly and childish. Perhaps even too morbid to bring up so unprompted on this weekend night. 

What were you expecting Alhaitham to even do? Did you want him to give you an answer? What can he even do? A question you can’t even begin to understand, why would you even expect him to have some solution prepared? 

What to do now? Can you just take back your previous words from his memory, so he’ll just forget what you said? Maybe just ask him to quell any more mindless musings from plaguing you tonight by placing his lips on your forehead? So that you could finally drift into the realm of slumber. 

However, is that temporary solution enough? Enough to stifle the contentions and riddles clattering together into a clamorous ruckus in your head? Could sleep even spare you from their tumult? 

“The Membrane Multiverse Theory or reincarnation, hm, do you have any personal theories you’d like to share?” The sensation of his fingers grasping yours brings you back to reality. 

Glancing at him with a quirk in your brow, you wait for him to continue. 

“Who knows, maybe we’ll be the first to publish something for this topic.” His thumb runs along your knuckles. 

“So, is there a speculation or possible rationale you feel particular to?” Teal eyes reconnect with yours. 

“Well…” You sigh, relishing in the warmth of his hand as you concoct a half-baked theory. 

“There’s stardust from stars that had burst billions of years ago, that have somehow ended up on this planet. Subsequently, every being on earth has the atoms of stars in them. So, naturally by the law of conservation, the earth is where the atoms of the human body will return.”

“Based on the law that atoms cannot be created or destroyed?” He drones. 

“Yes, they all had to come from something before them. The carbon in muscles, the calcium in bones, and the iron in blood. The atoms that make up you and I might become part of something else, or even of different people too.” 

“Hm, that sounds probable.”

“But, then this brings up a whole new host of questions, such as, if the new people our atoms become a part of are even ‘us’? Will they ever meet? What if you become a tree and I a rock? What if the atoms of you end up on one side of Teyvat and I on the other end?”

You peer into his irises, but you were just searching for an answer that isn’t there. 

For his beryl irises were impassive. But it was the impassive foundation you needed to ground your rambling thoughts and nonsensical musings into the desolate truth of it all.

The warmth of his hand slips away.

“Never mind, I suppose it’s the most logical to conclude that we’re just soulmates in this instance of time, in this universe, and only here.” Your hand closes over the empty space he left. 

Maybe it’s wise to dismiss it as silly rambling and then withdraw from his indecipherable eyes. Is it too late to put this plan into motion now?

The weight of a muscular arm is draped over your waist, hand pulling you closer unlike your ploy to escape. 

“But I have a few theories I haven’t shared yet.” He glances out toward the bedroom window. 

“While the theory of reincarnation currently doesn’t have any solid scientific backing, in some way, the law of conservation of mass does give a bit of merit to that notion.” Alhaitham draws circles into the small of your back. 

You hum in response. 

“The atoms that created us will return to the earth after us and become a part of something or someone else’s molecular structure. A tree or a rock, a human or a beast, it’s all probable. However…” Beryl eyes return to meet yours. 

“What’s stopping them from repeating the same molecular structures as right now?” He asks. 

Maybe it was his turn to peer into your eyes to search for an answer, an answer currently brewing and forging between your united gazes. 

“What’s stopping these atoms from returning to these exact molecular structures in the future? In a different time, the atoms of us now could one day in the far future come together again and make ‘us’ once more. Maybe just you, maybe just me, or maybe both at the same time.” 

He frees his other hand from the duty of supporting his head, broad body settling down into the bed and blankets, allowing his face to move closer to your level upon his pillow. 

“What’s the likelihood of those odds? Me and you again?” You ask. 

Alhaitham pauses. All the bright minds of science, mathematics, and physics, have yet to come up with a formula to calculate such a thing.

What would be the factors plugged into the equation? And how accurate would it even be?

The ashen-haired man wasn’t sure, but there was at least a statistical observation that would provide some basis. 

“A true 0% chance is an absolute impossibility, just as nothing can be proven absolutely 100%. Since we don't know the absolutes of time, existence, or physics. So, there’ll always be a non-zero chance.” Feeling the drums of your heartbeat against his chest. 

“Then, when they do, I think I’ll spend my life pondering what could fit into the spaces between my fingers like this.” He slips his hand into the gaps of yours, intertwining them. 

Then finally, he saw the smile he’d been yearning for rising on your lush lips. The ends of your eyes crinkle as it make its way to your irises as well. Your grip mirrors his as you nestle your face closer to his. 

“You won’t get tired of this stoic face?” You taunt.

“Will you get tired of mine?” He counters. 

Your shoulders quiver with stifled giggles. 

“No, no I won’t,” you promise him. 

“Then I won’t,” he promises back. 

His larger hand brings yours closer to himself, all the while your attentive eyes watch failing to keep the curl of your lips under control. 

“Any thoughts on the Membrane Multiverse Theory? How will your astute mind surmise the possibility of us laying like this somewhere else in the stars?” Honeyed-voice mimicking awe as your face inches closer.

“I believe I’ve shared enough, I’d much rather hear what your brilliant postulate is.” His tone casted with mirth, but the bite missing from teal eyes. 

Letting a soft hum, your mind rifling through all the paragraphs and journals your hands had ever thumbed through.

The soft rhythm of his breaths kept time. Stringing the words together on your tongue, you hope this monologue of yours will provide some amusement for him. 

“If universes are randomly put into 2 boxes of ‘yes’ and ‘no’, then on average the number of universes in each box would be the same. For every universe I’m not with you, there’ll be equally as many where I am with you.” 

A coin toss, perhaps it was all just a coin toss after all. Whether or not the Akasha paired a stoic face with another stoic face, for the gaps of your fingers to fit his so perfectly.

It could have all been a coin toss, for one half to stumble upon the other half cruelly parted from them by the hands of unseen gods. 

“Something akin to a bijection existing between both sets of universes?” He cross-examines. 

“Maybe… If we were to assign one type ‘yes’ to a positive integer, and the other type ‘no’ to a negative integer, then perhaps we can construct a bijection from the positive and negative integers.” Your brow furrows in contemplation. 

“If we submit this theory do you think the Akademiya would publish it?” 

“Not likely, bijections are usually made between sets of elements like numbers, not sure if bijections can be applied to something like whole universes. I’m just hypothesising nonsense,” you sigh.

“But they did publish the nonsense known as The Lifespan of Love,” he interjects. 

“Hm, then maybe there’s a non-zero chance they’ll publish our nonsense too.” You stifle a scoff. 

“Hm,” Alhaitham hums in amused agreement. 

His free hand pulls the covers further up over your frame then smoothing out the wrinkles. Observing the growing delays between your slowing blinks.

“Only you and I would turn pillow talk into an academic deliberation.” You couldn’t hold back the giggle any longer. 

He sighs in agreement, nestling his head closer to yours on the plush pillows, teal gaze never once leaving yours. 

“It’ll make any romantic keel over and dead from how dry it is, wouldn’t it, Haitham?”

“I say let them.” 

Scoffing and shaking your head at his crude declaration as a yawn slips past your lips, a conclusion to this nonsensical academic deliberation.

With one hand still intertwined in the tender grasp of another you pull Alhaitham closer. So that the spaces of your body could lay against the spaces of his. 

The warmth of his skin mingling with the warmth of yours, pressed against one another. You drawing mindless shapes into his back, his hand tracing senseless ruins into yours.

Perhaps, an illogical attempt to echt memories into the stardust in your bodies. 

So he and you could imprint the memory of each other into the very fibers of your beings. Then maybe someday when these atoms return to these exact molecular structures, they’ll remember this too. 

The law of conservation of mass, the probabilities upon probabilities, and bijections used in an inconsequential pseudo-academic ramblings to no one but an audience of silent stars.

Alhaitham’s certain no academic publisher would spare a glance at them. 

But this nonsensical instance in the continuum of time, feeling the rhythm of your heart on the other side of his chest next to his own, is his most precious epiphany. 

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. 

shakespeare and swooning

alhaitham x g/n reader

synopsis; you read one shakespeare play and now you want to impress your "buddy" alhaitham with your newfound knowledge !! what could go wrong?

fluff, g/n reader, TOTAL CRACKFIC, OOC alhaitham, SWEARING, kind of a modern au ???? i mention "ringing tighnari" but that could just be imagined as using the akasha terminal !!!! didnt write this with a modern au in mind

warning ‼️ PLEASE dont expect this to be accurate, if youre a big classic literature fan then dont attack me for not being a NERD ☹️ just imagine a poser using their fancy words (because they think its cool)

you know how libraries are supposed to be a place of study and tranquility? no the fuck you don't, or at least you don't care, because running through the house of daena with shakespeares, "romeo and juliet," in your hands is NOT very tranquil.

multiple poor akademiya students look at you, PISSED OFF because your shoes are going clu-clonk on the marble floors, which wouldn't be an issue if you weren't scurrying through the library.

is that kaveh ?? he's giving you the same look he gives alhaitham every day ..

... but this is IMPORTANT !! you're on a MISSION right now !! you just finished reading the first act of "romeo and juliet," and you're convinced your brain has expanded tenfold in size.

you're now rushing to your good pal haitham to share your knowledge! how kind and gracious!

you're stopped before his house, you've known him for long enough and gotten close enough for him to let you come in whenever. you know kaveh isn't home, and haitham would never purposefully work overtime, so you're certain you can get his attention and show off in peace.

why are you so adamant about showing off to alhaitham? is it REALLY showing off, or are you trying to, heehee, impress him?? its too late to be flustered at this thought because you already unlocked the door with the spare key kaveh leaves behind one of haithams ugly ass decorative plants and you've taken off your shoes and oh god hes right there and the sunlight from the door is lighting up his face in that way that only happens to him and hes looking at you with a suprised, slightly annoyed, but incredibly fond look and oh no what was your plan again?

"greetings, alhaitham! ☝️🤓" you say, finding a surge of confidence remembering the story you read.

"... hey. what are you doing here?" his response is quick but before you respond he continues, "did you just say greetings?"

"indubidibdibdly! hath you be surprised?" you pretentious hipster. you think youre SO cool, but unfortunately your little crush doesn't seem very impressed either.

"okay, what are you doing? you're being weird." he's not even looking at you, and he's back in his chair before you can rush over and sit on the couch. "is something wrong? should i get tighnari to give you a checkup?"

you'd be touched by the care of the suggestion if he wasn't so cheeky in his tone.

"wha, what, no?! no what the hell- stop ringing tighnari."

"are thou o'er wrought with admiration?" you grin, somehow still under the impression that you sound cool.

he gives an eyebrow raise to that. not bothering to mark his place in his book, he stands up.

"i lie testy in why you act so unpregnant, my dear."

"what"

HUH ? what did bro just say ? testy ???? unpregnant ?? MY DEAR ??? backtrack again, UN-WHAT ??

"be still my beating heart, thou hast taken mine with absolute cunning." is he making fun of you i genuinely can't tell ... its like hes speaking in moon runes right now.

"haitham, heheh, WHAT are you DOING ??" you can't help but laugh at his funny little words, magic man. even if you're clueless to what he just said to you.

"whatever doth thou mean?" he's totally making fun of you !! after ALL your effort to impress him too?

"well, usually i do all the ranting and you sit pretty and listen, so it's weird that you're talking so much, especially like THAT?" fym sit pretty ....

"when words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain." that sounds familiar, but you can't think about it longer before he continues, "shall i compare thee to a summers day?"

"ALRIGHT, i recognize that one, dummy." you laugh, "were you really not impressed by me?" you whisper, the rush of embarrassment you shouldve felt in that library is finally catching up with you.

he stares at you for a second. you just wish you could find out what hes thinking up there, if you could even understand it.

and then he lets you into his mind, with a simple "i love you." as if alhaitham, renowned scribe of the akademiya, top student, couldn't find the words to describe how he felt for you.

or maybe that was what he felt for you. he loved you.

"... you called me unpregnant."

a/n; i read romeo and juliet like... 3 years ago.... so.. uam... 😇😇 totally accurate! hope this crackfic style of writing isnt too niche so this doesnt flop because EMBARRASSING....... do people even like al haitham anymore like guys lets go back to the good old days before the FRENCH came in..... (this is just me projecting cause i havent played genshin in a while and i still lovelove sumeru)