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pokedawriter · 1 month

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Nymph!Reader x Sumeru!Men

Gn!reader, you're a nymph

How would the sumeru men react to finding you and your grotto

I still have no idea what I'm doing

I've never written for Cyno, Alhaitem or Scara so forgive me if something is out of character

Cyno

He's patrolling the desert. There have been lots of cave-ins in the area recently and he wants to figure out if there is a specific cause that he can solve or if he should just warn people about the area

As he walks, he feels the sand beneath his feet begin to fall and he tries to jump away but it's too sudden and he falls

He braces for impact but lands into a net of vines that gently lower him to the ground

Your standing next to him, arm extended with the sunlight on your back, looking gorgeous and radiant, then you speak

"I can't be-leaf someone fell into here. Water you doing here?"

Archons, he might have fallen in love with you at that moment

He asks you about the recent cave in and you tell him it the Wenut mating season, and they're all trying to make burrows for their young. An inexperienced male has been digging here but didn't dig deep enough, which is why there are so many cave-ins. You tell him to just wait a month or two for the season to end

The hole is fairly deep and so you build him a ladder out of vines and he promises to return

After reporting what happened with the cave-ins, he returns and finds you've been repairing your grotto in the mean time, removing the dirt and stones that fell

You're very excited to see him and take him deeper into your grotto, further underground

It's beautiful, with purple, white and yellow flowers illuminating the area. Glowing stones are scattered in the ceiling like stars

He makes a regular habit to visit you and introduces you to Tighnari pretty soon (but he doesn't visit much due to his incompatibility with the heat). You all like to have Genius Innovation TCG together (Cyno teaches you and gives you cards)

He finds himself falling asleep in your grotto, surrounded by the glowing flowers and flowing water

He has to stop visiting for a few months due to work, but tries to wrap it up as fast can to see you

When be returns, he finds your grotto has been severely damaged, much of the flora dying. He searches high and low for you, going to the deepest part of the grotto where rocks fall away and reveal a very weakened you

You tell him people found out about your grotto and stole as many of your rare plants as they could, weakening you greatly and you had to hide yourself and your remaining plants away

He's furious and immediately takes action

He works with Tighnari and Lesser Lord Kusanali to make you and your grotto a protected space

And though he can't punish the researchers for over-foraging (since you and your grotto weren't legally protected), he does let other researchers know of their actions, resulting in those researchers being shunned

He helps you and your grotto return to full health and always tries to visit once a week to 'keep away any trouble makers" (but he just wants to visit you)

You both often fall asleep together in the deepest part of the grotto, happy in each other's presence

Alhaithem

He was looking through the old archives. The scrolls and books here were no longer scientifically accurate, but were kept for record purposes

He's found an old book about mythical creatures of Sumeru: Aranara, Nymphs, Djinn, Rocs, and more. He decided to rent it out and give it a read

Reading it at his house wasn't an option as it would be too loud (Kaveh, whom he didnt feel like dealing with today), the Academia students and researchers were always bothering him if he was around (especially after the 'hero' title), so he decided to leave the city for a bit.

As he walked, he found a small cave and decided to read there

Inside was larger than he expected, with a small moss-covered shrine and little yellow flowers. He sat on one of the rocks to read

It was wonderfully calm and quiet. The right temperature, the trickle of water from a nearby stream, the rustle of the leaves... it was all perfect

So, he came back here again and again, reading his books late into the evenings

He was in the middle of his mythical creatures book, on Nymphs, when he felt a presence and immediately looked for it

You sat on the shrine, staring at him, head tilted in wonder

He looked between his book and its description of Nymphs and you... and it seems he found a mythical creature. Regardless, he continued to read and you continued to watch him

Eventually, he turned to you and asked why you were just staring at him, to which you shrugged and said "If a man were to walk in your yard everyday and read, doing nothing else at all, wouldn't you grow curious?"

He was mostly surprised by the fact you could respond. The book said that Nymph's were shy creatures who couldn't talk

But to you, this man had been a regular visitor to your grotto for months now. His scent was just part of your grotto, like the duskbirds and rishboland tigers. He wasn't a stranger at all

Alhaithem decided to ask you a few questions about Nymphs which you agreeably answered, even showing in the deeper parts of the grotto that he hadn't noticed were there

You both fell into a comfortable routine of him visiting you on his days off to read in comfortable silence while you worked on your grotto

Despite being able to talk in every language he could, he realized you couldn't read at all

He helped you learn how to read and you helped him relax and have the perfect reading spot

You became reading buddies, and even though you would ask him with question on words, it never bothered or annoyed him

He subtly made your grotto a legally protected area so if anyone messed with it, they would have to pay

You were his safe space, and in return, he would protect you too

Scara/Wanderer

Nahida asked him to go outside and touch grass more

Just kidding, she asked him to find a rare flower, only ever found underground in rare Nymph Gardens

She gave him a rough idea where he might be able to find it and off he went, grumbling the whole way

Finding the entrance to the cave wasn't hard. All he had to do then was follow the smell of fresh flowers. It was so simple for him (and most certainly didn't take him several days)

When he finally found your grotto, he couldn't find the flower Nahida had described for him and grumbled under his breath about it

This is where you come in: appearing next to his shoulder asking about what flower he was exactly talking about

You stare at him innocently even as he hold a swirl ball of anemo energy

You ask again and he asks who you are, cautious

"I'm the nymph of this grotto"

That can't be possible, Nymphs aren't real, surely you're pulling his leg

But you have flowers growing on you, the plants lean towards where you step and life seems to exude from you

He'll dispell his anemo attack and tell you about the flower. You nod and scoop it up a bit of dirt and grow the flower on it

He's wondering if there's a cost to it. You tell him it'll hurt you when he leaves with it. He asks what he owes you and you shrug and walk away to play with the springyness of a new fern

He brings the flower to Nahida then rushes back. Not because he's worried! He's just curious about the affects of removing the flower from your grotto (Nahida gives him a knowing smile as he leaves)

When he arrives, you're laying on the ground, looking unwell. He puts his hand to your forehead, and you're burning up

Why would you give the flower to him if it would hurt you so much?

"Because you needed it," you say with a smile

He'll take care of you for the next few days, your waking hours being filled with scolding and mild insults about how stupid it was to give all thay power to a stranger. What if they wanted to take advantage of you?

You laugh and smile. When he's not paying attention, you'll make little figurines out of flower of him

Then he'll notice and scold you for not resting properly, idiot (he does think it's very cute though)

He'll protest even when you insist you are perfectly healthy again

You'll take him to the deepest part of the grotto where you made a picture of the two of you in glowing flowers. He says it looks stupid, but you notice his little blush and giggle

He has to leave for a few days and during that time, treasure hoarders find your grotto

They have no respect for your plants, so you hide, slowly growing weaker and weaker as they pick and burn your plants

Needless to say, when Scara returns and sees you hanging on by a thread, he's pissed

He wipes them out and tends to you once again. It takes months this time until you are healthy, but he's by your side every step of the way

"Clearly, you can't take care of yourself, so I'll have to watch out for you! Hey! Don't giggle! What's so funny, idiot?"

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r0ttenhearts · 5 months

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inconvenience

alhaitham x reader

sypnosis: after alhaitham fails to show up for your birthday “party” things seem to go worse between you as well as your best friend kaveh

warnings: angst, no comfort, arguments

the clock chiming felt taunting with every minute that passed. every minute that passed with alhaitham nowhere in sight. every minute that got closer to midnight. a gentle sigh left your lips, the thickly frosted cake sat in front of you untouched. you were sure if you had lit the candles they would have been nothing but melted wax by now.

you weren’t sure why you wanted to believe things would be different tonight. with alhaitham’s busy schedule it made moments between you two scarce and few. only speaking for a few minutes in the morning, knowing he’d be gone all day. you didn’t blame him for it, no. how could you? he was busy doing his job as a scribe! piling onto his already busy schedule felt nauseating. but you trusted his promise he made to you only two weeks prior. a promise to come home early on your birthday, to celebrate together.

it felt so long ago now. the clock reading 11:46 and he still wasn’t home. the sound of the door opening perked you up, a wide smile on your face as you got up, ready to greet alhaitham.

“haitham! i- oh.”

the blonde haired architect smiled softly at you, your shoulders slumping. “hey kaveh, why’re you home so late?” you spoke softly as he came inside.

“i just got caught up with things, figured i’d rather finish them here.. where’s alhaitham? i thought you two would be together right about now?”

you shook your head softly, “i guess he got caught up with things as well.”

kaveh studied your face for a moment before smiling sadly, “happy birthday (y/n).” you whispered a quiet thank you as he walked to his room, the door shutting gently behind him.

a silent storm brewed in your mind and you couldn’t help but feel so defeated. your boyfriend of four years couldn’t bother to show up for your birthday? did he really think his work mattered more than you?

you remembered every time you passed up something with your friends or an event you had wanted to go to, just for alhaitham. considering his feelings and knowing he didn’t like those things. only wanting to spend time together even if it meant missing out on things you also deemed as important.

always taking his feelings and thoughts on certain things, but he couldn’t even come home for your birthday? your sigh was much more aggravated than it was before, your patience as thin as paper.

just as you were about to put the cake away the door opened, the clock reading 12:24. no words were said as you closed the fridge door, making your way past alhaitham before he stopped you. a firm hand on your shoulder.

“what, alhaitham? it’s late, i’m going to bed.” you attempted to shrug his hand off but he held his grip. “you’re angry, why are you upset with me?” alhaitham spoke cooly and composed.

you scoffed loudly, angry tears were trying to escape your eyes but you wouldn’t let them. you wouldn’t cry over him.

“oh, i wonder! i really do, alhaitham. maybe because it’s my birthday and you didn’t bother to show up? just a reminder since you seemed to have forgotten, or do you just not care? i don’t think i want to know the answer.” you spat out like poison. a look of annoyance crossed alhaitham’s face.

“are you serious? you’re behaving like a child over your birthday? i was busy with my work, you know this. don’t go pouting now because i forgot one meaningless day.”

he didn’t care. he didn’t care how much this meant to you, even after telling him stories of how you always went out of your way for others. only to be disappointed in return. the one day of the year you wanted to feel like you mattered, and he didn’t care. he was more bothered with you being upset than anything.

“you can’t be serious alhaitham. you promised me!”

“then i suppose that promise didn’t mean much as i don’t recall ever making one.”

any argument you had in your mind now died. he wouldn’t care for any reason to justify your anger, he had made up his mind. and he wasn’t sorry for any of it.

you didn’t say anything as his hand left your shoulder, walking past you to the kitchen for a late night sandwich. you quietly made your way to kaveh’s room, shutting the door as quietly as you could behind you. kaveh spun around in his chair, a look of confusion on his face.

“kaveh.. alhaitham didn’t care! he just didn’t care at all. i waited all night, you know? i waited and waited and blew off invitations to spend my birthday with dehya and the girls and he just.. just didn’t care! he called me a child and i-“

“(Y/N)!”

your emotional rambling stopped at the yell of your name. kaveh held the same expression alhaitham had when he looked at you not too long ago.

“you are being an inconvenience right now, i have so much to do and i can’t deal with this right now. we can talk about it later but i’m busy right now. so please, get out of my room.”

you didn’t say anything as you left his room. alhaitham scoffing as you two saw each other before he made his way to his own room. the door shutting behind him.

you had never felt so unwelcome in a place you had grown to love and call home. but if you weren’t wanted, you knew better than to stay. to fight for a place that wasn’t yours. with that, you quietly slipped away into the night. texts and calls being missed from the both of them as you made a new life outside of them.

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#genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin x reader angst #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham angst #alhaitham #al haitam x reader #al haithem

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moonsaver · 3 months

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Sumeru roses, House of Daena, Sticky notes.

-------

Being an asisstant for the scribe isn't so bad. Just ignore the persistent overtimes, the scent of your perfume everywhere, and the new ink bottles that keep running out on his desk. You didn't anticipate red being his favorite ink to work with.

A/n: more than 2.5k words. I didnt bother counting. I hsed google translate for arabic whoops sorry not sorry <3 also its been a while since i wrote.

Warnings/tags: reader is g/n, yandere Alhaitham, Alhaitham x reader, stalking, paranoia, obsessive themes, very very subtle mentions of blood (if you squint), kind of drawn out? Horrible arabic google translate quote. Probably OOC but you can ignore that

------

You admit, being an asisstant isn't so bad.

Of course, at first when you broke the announcement to your parents you wanted to further your studies at the Akademiya, your parents werent approving. They wanted you to get a cushy job and earn as soon as possible; you don't blame them. Having that life sounds peaceful, however, you think delaying it a bit won't hurt. You haven't had the proper chance to really scour the library at your own leisure, at least, not as a student.

So, while job-hunting, (which was wonderfully disrupted by the huge Archon-Overthrow-play-god plan for a good few weeks,) you got an offer as the Asisstant of the Grand Sage; which was suspicious from how good of a title it was. The Akademiya was desperate to get back on it's feet, and who were you to deny the offer?

Of course, it didn't quite occur to you until the first day of your job you'd be working alongside Alhaitham, the scribe of the Akademiya (and perhaps his infamous title as the one who curated a plan to foil Azar's shenanigans).

Which was fine. He was generally alright,if not great to work with. Straightforward, clear, brief, analytical and most of all – he wasn't pushy. Which was a relief, of course. You managed to make small talk from time to time (if you could really call it that,) and came to a consensus with him on many things, mostly that both of you were not pleased with overtime. The moment the clock hit 5:00 PM, both of you were out of your offices and posts. You were mutually respectful, and generally tolerated each other well.

Of course, things at your job got shaken up when your schedule was thrown off balance. Your favorite drink always ran out, your mornings were crowded and somehow you started showing up later than usual, which meant you went home later aswell (much to your dismay).

Another strange series of events started taking place, if you could even call it that. You swear you haven't been watering the plants in front of your home, and the soil is dry enough, so how are they so.. vibrant? And recently, you swear one of the plants is growing a little too much, basically covering one of the windows, threatening to break it. Sticky notes scattered around the front of your house which you originally thought of as littering from those raucous kids your neighbours can't keep in control – you only realised they were for you when you caught a glimpse of your name on it, and you can only agree with the suspicious look on your friends’ faces when you show them the notes – bright Canary yellow and the striking red colour across the notes (although, you've only shown them the more milder ones. You can't imagine the panic you'll be forced to acknowledge if they see some of the other.. strange ones.)

And you suppose your paranoia has caught up to you. Your sleep-deprived mind swears that new red coloured bottle of ink on Alhaitham's desk wasn't there. You swear he never used that bright Canary Yellow colour of post-its. Did he really like that drink he always seemed to get for both of you? It conveniently ran out when you wanted it, and even more so, he conveniently just brought an extra since it was on discount? Of course it all just seems like a coincidence. You're a fool to even think otherwise.

And well, you're fine. Your life has always been a long series of fine, even with the occasional weird mishaps. That's how it's always been, and you don't intend to change it; rather, you really do find change almost repulsive (save for the panic you felt deep down in your stomach at all the things you couldn't control). And that “fine” comes to a halt when you find your door absolutely mauled with sticky notes. There's a bouquet of Sumeru Roses at the bottom, as if to try and apologise sheepishly for the terrifying collage on your door. The terrifying numbness in your fingers, face, your brows furrowed as you can't decide just how to react, the elevated heartbeat – you swear you can feel the blood threaten to burst through your chest.

You opted to stay with a friend that night. You don't know what you were expecting when you came back in the morning, and all of those notes were gone, except a singular one in the middle, “الهوس والحب مترادفان، لكنهما لا يقارنان بارتباط روحي بروحك” (which you had to reread almost 30 times with your broken arabic, checked with someone from the Haravatat Darshan, to really confirm – obsession and love are synonyms, but they are nothing compared to the connection of my soul to yours – is what it said, and it's echoed in your head for weeks). You can't remember the last time you wore your rose perfume after that.

Scouring in the House Of Daena didn't seem to alleviate your troubles that well, either. The books you read one day, and opted to continue the next – vanished. Someone else always had the upper hand. And when they returned, they were scribbled and annotated with many pockets of information. Sometimes they overshadow the information on the page itself. And on the rare occasion you put your head on the books as a makeshift pillow for a power nap, you jolted up from just a sniff. Sumeru roses hit your nose.

And of course, when you find notes with all different handwritings on your desk in the office, you think someone's playing a cruel prank on you. But your office was locked. No one saw anyone enter your office. You did your usual check up before you locked it last night, and assorted everything in place. None of these notes were here. And of course, your only clue is the fact they're all Canary Yellow post-its, and that striking scarlet red ink on it. Hasn't the bottle on Alhaitham's desk been running out? He mentioned it off-handedly. You remember saying blue ink was cheaper. He didn't respond.

–

overtime was disdainful, for the lack of a better word. However, that implies only to the masses – it is no problem for him to come up with better synonyms to describe the situation at hand. “Distasteful”, “loathsome”, “detestable”, and so on. However, complaining will not solve the stacks of files on his desk that he wishes to do away with as soon as possible.

If anything pleases him more than his usual combination of abstruse books, isolation from the general public, and extreme individuality, it is that as the Grand Sage's assistant – you are expected to stay back for the extended hours as much as he is, if not more. For once, working overtime (or being forced to) has brought him progress. Will a few more hours of scribbling away and reviewing files change anything huge? He will return to his post again tomorrow as he has today, and the work will continue. Although, this time, it is you who stays working overtime. So for once, if it manages to quiet down the poking and prodding of other nosy scholars, reprimanding him for never working even a minute after the allocated time, he does so for the exchange of working with you.

And he doesn't intend to burden you, but he knows the desperation you work with, trying your best to cram in any minute, second into trying to get ahold of those books at the House Of Daena. So, if at least to make you stay for longer, he assigns you the more dragged out, tedious work. And to make it better – you just got locked out of your office. He has an extra pair, which he diligently uses for his own interest. As for you; perhaps being so frantic and scrambling to gather all books you might have read the day before may have caused you to drop your keys somewhere along the way. Would he know? Of course – he's diligently collected and added it to his inventory. Would he tell you? It would be like stepping on his own tail. The lack of certainty in a schedule makes for more freedom – he thinks. It's for your own good; he almost says. And to have you work in the same proximity as him? It's a bonus.

Many consider him to be talented and extraordinarily intelligent, so just take his advice as literally as you can. Or maybe he just needs to tell you directly while making small talk between you two more frequent. To his dismay (and your absolute horror), the sticky notes seem to be working counterproductively. Perhaps he should just show up at your house with a bouquet of Sumeru roses and a small journal filled with his advice? He jests, it's only an entertaining idea. The bewildered look on your face makes him adore you – even if only imaginative.

The lift stops at the top floor. He sees your figure standing beside his desk, an expanse of books behind you. The sharp yellow lights contrast your figure to the dim blue light sphere in the middle. He feels the corners of his mouth perk up into a smile,and stops himself.

Another overtime shift for the both of you.

—

Overtime was not easy. You wouldn't have minded it – the job pays you well, and its quite comfortably tucked into the Akademiya, where no one bothers you, and you can easily access the House of Daena. However, the stress and paranoia has absolutely drained you.

You've visited the matra recently. Frantically scraping together whatever evidence you can, everytime your “admirer” decided to gift you something new, leaving almost no time in your schedule. Daily visits to the library turned into constant visits to the matra, detailing your issues. You would have opted to stay silent, brushing it off as someone who was.. weirdly shy. But shy people don't stalk you, shy people don't leave obsessive notes for you, shy people don't visit your house at unholy hours of the night. And who knows what else this stalker of yours has been up to recently?

Revenge bedtime procrastination turned into sleepless nights, flinching at every sound, hiding under the covers until there was no oxygen and your entire face was covered in sweat. Workload seemed to increase, from how often you kept messing up, many things clouding your mind. Alhaitham's prickly eyes took notice, and he suggested drinking another beverage aside from coffee in the morning, and offered to get you something else – which you generously refused and turned down. (the last thing you would want to be is in someone else's debt at this time. Even if it's just a drink, who knows what else it could add up to in the future?)

So, here you were; irritated, on edge and in the dimly lit office which was viciously devoid of any natural light. You wonder why someone would want such a stuffy office, with books probably growing mold inside. Sure, it's spacious, but it's utter lack of life in it repulses you. It has the comfort level of a hospital waiting room, and it's just enough to add onto the little things that bother you, on top of everything else.

If that wasn't any better – Alhaitham seemed particularly chatty this evening. Perhaps his parasitic roommate (whom he has lovingly mentioned, multiple times,) has been ignoring him as of late? Maybe a commission in the desert, or a commission that requires a huge amount of unnecessary labour? And the (Acting) Grand Scribe has mentioned several times how the blonde architect works himself almost half to death just to get a smile out of his customers. You painstakingly understand him in silence, and don't comment on it.

The rest of the night continues – the benignity of it isn't lost on you. Occasionally perking up from your own scribbling upon Alhaitham's call, searching for a specific book on the vast (dusty, if you may add) shelves, and commenting on a few meeting topics and research projects he grazes, assigning you a few. He doesn't miss the comical dragging of your feet as you walk back over to your desk, befuddled with more work. He wants to tease you, he wants you to ask him for help, for an extra bottle of ink, for an extra post it note, whatever way in which you ask for his help.

He theorises you don't remember much of your and his student days.

—

“shit, I forgot them.”

You searched the familiar pockets and zips of your bag, scrunched eyebrows in frustration.

“Seriously? I'm not lending you any of mine~”

Your friend laughed. You sigh.

“I let you hog all my lunch and this is what I get as a thank you?”

“Too bad. You don't like the blue coloured ones anyway.”

“I'm desperate for a sticky note. Does it look like I'm in a state to be picky?”

Your friend laughs again, and throws their little compact stack of post-its on your book.

“Fine. But you've already annotated so much, what are you gonna write about?”

“Hmm? Wouldn't you like to know?”

You playfully ignore them, as they chitter behind you; carefully sticking it into your textbook and scribbling down the information before you forget. You sigh and look up. You make eye contact.

Right. It's him.

The grey-haired Haravatat boy that rarely showed up. Everyone knew him for his quiet attitude, and his tendency to make your professor's blood boil due to his absence in every lecture. Your friends had a few inside jokes about him. You would dare say this is your first encounter, or really the only one, with him. A stoic look and a judgmental one at the same time, behind curiously multicoloured eyes.

Nearing the end of the semester – usually the smart ones would avoid the house of Daena, as it would overflow with study groups of caffeine-run seniors and freshman alike. Some of the other clever ones chose spots that weren't easy to find in the first place, and some chose to simply come early.

The thing is, you didn't come early. You were here from midnight. The librarian and all the security checks probably missed you, since you were neatly tucked away into the corner, taking a well-needed nap on one of your reference materials. You only woke up when one of your friends, and that boy poked and prodded you. Your friend laughed until they were out of breath when you looked up – drool slipping down past your chin, eyes swollen from the lack of sleep (and the incessant crying of an academic student), handwriting illegible from just how drowsy you were. The boy only stood quietly, probably judging your.. mannerisms. You weren't sure how, or why, he sat down at the same table as you and your friend.

—-

Every once in a while - Alhaitham does use the sticky notes.

He didn't buy them. He wanted to borrow them for a short second, but in your hurry, you gave him the compact stack and left, never looking back. After that, you never got them back. Neither of you had the time, and your fate simply intertwined for a brief moment. Things like these happen.

But you keep appearing in the crowd.

He sees you in a flurry of students, or alone at a desolate desk. On a high-up ladder reaching an impossibly reachable book, crouching down to pick up the several you dropped in the process. Passing by the dull lecture halls as he slipped into the library, following the reference materials his father recommended, picked out neatly from private journals and books. The yellow sticky notes never served him much purpose after a single use. He debated simply keeping them on your desk the next time he saw you, but never quite worked up the courage. He swore the sumeru rose scent gave him a headache.

So, when he heard you were continuing your studies at the Akademiya, he was pleased. Working as a Scribe was a simple job, and his chances of seeing you just increased. And he may have been too ambitious, but it worked greatly in his favour – as he opened up another Assistant role for you.

He hums, content with his decision to keep the sticky notes. Now - how would he utilise them? He wonders if you remember that friend's handwriting. Simple notes turned into obsessive confessions.

Once in a while turned into almost everyday, the more he observed you.

His obsession alone could become the subject of his own studies – but for now you are his sole interest.

And the next overtime, his first after returning to his post as the Scribe – he decides to finally close the chapter.

Has your perfume always been this sweet? That headache's been catching up to you. All that worrying and panic.. when was the last time you slept?

He opens the door to his office. You stand under the warm light, horrified. Piles of sticky notes crowd your feet. The wall barely peeks through behind you from the sticky notes. He closes the door, and a flurry of them fall from the movement. Both of you stare at each other.

“Alhaitham?”

You remember looking at the collection of sticky notes you'd received over a period of time. Is the red ink turning brown? You swore the color changed. Is it supposed to smell? You don't think you want to know.

“Congratulations. You've made it this far. Ive been waiting to talk to you in private."

Your arms go limp, dropping the stack of files onto the floor. The clock ticks silently. You should have gone home. Your bad habit of staying past closing time and evading the security seemed to have not worked in your favour this time.

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suguruplsr · 5 months

Text

Let me be your cure

featuring.. Alhaitham

✰ ✰ ✰ You gave up on love after being affected with the infamous hanahaki. With pity and sadness slowly swallowing your life whole, you end up in the hospital. Reluctant to getting surgery. And your boring, sadly hot, doctor doesn't seem to care. At least until he finds himself thinking about you.

,, x fem!reader , reader had an ex fiancé who was shitty , fluff w/ angst + comfort , mentions of blood and bruises (caused by the disease) , purely fictional! i know nothing about how hospitals actually operate or if things in my story are or are not allowed! so as you read, remember its purely fictional!

+ disease used is called hanahaki! and it is fictional, and used in many fictional stories, like mine. in shorter terms, a character affected by this disease coughs up flowers and, usually, blood, because of rejection or the loved character not loving them, (without it being said too!). it’s mostly solved with the loved character realizing their love for mc and saving them. or in other cases, the mc getting surgery and losing feelings for the loved character.

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wc: 5K+

- divider @/benkeibear

“Why are you staring?" You huff, making the gray-haired man in front of you nearly lose his composure. There’s no reason why someone like him should be stuck with some bratty woman. Okay, maybe he should have some sympathy. considering it’s a part of his job. “Ma’am, I'm just evaluating your physical health by sight for now.” You groan, turning your head away.

You’re literally going to die within this year and You can’t even at least get someone who is a bit more bubbly and nice to be around! not some cold guy with looks that could kill.

His eyes were unique. like targets or darts, probably? Your confuzzled mind couldn’t make sense of most things at the moment, but you felt strange underneath his gaze. intimidated. even without looking at him.

“Maybe if you wiped that scowl off your face, you wouldn't be in this situation. Probably drove the guy off." Alhaitham mutters. Yeah, yeah, it’s unprofessional, but he wasn’t disappointed with your reaction. His eyes lingered around your face, noticing how your tired, red eyes widened. But your lips curled, as if satisfied, mixing with the disbelief in your words. "Oh, you must be the funniest one around. What? Was I supposed to just smile? Say, 'Oh, I don’t mind, you’re fucking your secretary! Let’s plan our honeymoon, though!’ And hope to continue our romantic story?” You sneer, rolling your eyes dramatically.

“Well, it clearly didn’t work.” Alhaitham almost snickers. finding amusement in your extroverted attitude. He jots down a few more noticeable signs of your defect. Your lips look like they’ve been bit a lot, your nails are brittle, and your hair is frizzy and not taken care of. These are pretty normal things that the nurses should be able to help with. But he does eye the areas that aren’t just normal, like the bruises that reached to your neck or the ones on your arms that the gown does little to hide.

As you ramble on about your not-so-perfect love story, Alhaitham flips through the history of your visitors. It’s been three weeks since you were hospitalized, and there has been only one visitor since the day you came. which he’d assume was your mother or father. “Not a lot of friends or family?” He interrupts, his tone maybe a tiny bit softer than how firm it usually is. simply out of respect, of course. “Yeah, well, when you choose to die on your hill, not everyone wants to watch." You chuckle, smiling a bit.

He’d think that smile wouldn’t meet your eyes—cliche, right? But it did—a smile that wasn't too happy and an expression that wasn't too happy. But he merely hums in agreement, having no words of comfort and fixing his binder.

“Anyways, a female doctor will come and do a physical inspection before we prepare for your x-ray appointment in a few days. Although it seems that the roots of the flower may be growing and causing damage from the inside, His words make you waver, looking down at your lap. Was this really a good choice? It’s probably too late for surgery—not like you want one, but...

Alhaitham studies the visible emotions crossing your face before heading towards the door. “Make sure you ask for some food; you’re heavily malnourished."

The next few weeks have been bland. You wake up around 10 AM, and usually the nurse you’ve learned to call, Ms.Candace, is bringing your food inside and having a small conversation with you. Eventually, she begins the morning routine, doing your hair with a nice side of warm herbal tea. Chapstick, nails, and a light pair of pajamas, and then talking about what you’d like to do for the rest of your day.

But just when you think you won't ever have to see that snobby doctor,

“Unfortunately for you, you won’t be able to go outside.” Alhaitham steps into the room, clipboard in hand, and shoots a look of no remorse towards your huff. “And why not? I haven’t seen the light of day for what feels like months."You scoff, making the blue-haired woman beside you sigh. "Well, miss, your body is already becoming slower, and there’s signs you are getting weaker in general. I'm sure he’s just wanting to prevent your state from getting any worse.” Yet her sweet words do little to calm the bubbling feeling within your chest.

You shake your head as she goes to walk out, giving the gray-haired man one more look before the door closes. He ignores it, “Anyway, after the results of your recent checkups, the estimate of how much time you have left to live was determined. but I doubt it’ll affect you considering you’re one stubborn woman." Alhaitham raises his eyebrows at you, anticipating your rebuttal before you can even get it out. but instead, you suddenly get into a fit of coughs. It’s like an eruption within your chest. the tiny tree within, sending an array of attacks.

You hate it—the prickly feeling that wells up, like knives cutting your insides as flowers sputter and fall into the palm of your hand. Your eyes water from the odd sensation you’ve lived with, and you question yourself with the same old question you uttered the day you made your decision.

Was it worth it?

Was it worth sticking with a man who never had to even speak of his loss of love for you? The yellow carnations were enough. Symbolizing the rejection you’ve faced from him, something you never thought you’d ever have to endure after your relationship was taken to the next level,

Alhaitham had grabbed the new form of medication you were going to start using, a syringe filled with yellow liquid. He grabs your arm, his eyes quickly traversing around your body, especially your throat, for signs that may be more alarming than they should be. He looks into your eyes, seeing the panic and fear that have swelled within them. “I know it hurts, but breathe...” He whispers, keeping your arm firmly still as the syringe prickles into your skin. You look away in fright. You hate needles, but you hate this even more.

The spiky feeling in your throat slowly subsides as you spit out some blood. "I'm fine now...” Your croaky voice makes him jeer, swiftly grabbing a band-aid for the little spot of blood on your arm. "You aren’t. You’re, quite literally, dying. Although it seems like you may be dying way faster than I thought.” He sighs, moving around the room and grabbing a few of your medications. “We'll have to give you stronger medication to reduce the pain. I'll have Ms. Candace and a few other people come help you," he says, leaving almost as quickly as he came.

The nurses come in within a short time, the room bustling with movement and questions being directed towards you. The blood staining the pretty gold ring on your finger makes you finally wake up.

You’re actually dying.

And it’s for a man who swears he could never love you again.

Oh, how tricky fate can be with those stupid I love you's.

“How’re you feeling?” Alhaitham mumurs. You’ve been ignoring the man who sat in front of you, all silent, ever since the fiasco yesterday. You could only stare down at the ring around your finger, twisting it and sometimes daring to fully shed it off your finger.

You don’t have the guts to do that, even if he did. without any hesitation either.

“With how much you talk, I'm surprised you aren’t yelling at me for just existing.” He muses, his eyes flickering from his clipboard up to where you sit on the hospital bed. You don’t have the energy to banter with him, "I'm not that childish.” “You’d be surprised." His mutter makes you jolt, your face twisting into a pout.

“It sounds like you just have a problem with me!” you gibe. but Alhaitham’s eyebrow raises. as if you hit the target with that one. "Possibly," he mumbles, focusing back on the papers in front of him. Your fusses fall dead on his ears.

His problem with you wasn’t bad—more like pity. Something he rarely feels for patients, only understanding their situations, giving affirmations, and moving on. but he finds your situation simply ridiculous. Not only are you dying for a man who left you for another, but he doesn’t even have the respect to pay for your medical fees. Not to mention, literally, your mother was the one who paid, only stating to him that she has no plans on visiting and that he was allowed to do whatever once you died.

What a heartless woman!

“Since you’re so absorbed in that paper—“ “You must not have an ‘off’ button.” His eye twitches at the tone of your annoyance, all sickly and sweet. He could practically hear the joke Cyno would make. "Actually, I do. and it’s counting down. Speaking of, you never told me how long I have left.” Okay, maybe you were a bit funny. and it’s something that should definitely not make his lips almost form into a smile. However, he clears his throat, not bothering to flip through the mountain of pages. considering he already memorized the information. “Two months at least. With the rate at which your body is deteriorating, the best you’ll be able to last is maybe an extra week or two.

Alhaitham’s stomach strangely twists at the sight of your mood dampening once again. your head looking back down to your arms, and your lips pressed tightly together. But it wasn’t like he cared; it’s just interesting to see how fast the light can disappear from one’s eyes. something he realized long ago that he'd see a lot of.

It’s probably just from how tense the room got all of a sudden. nothing he can’t handle.

Before you know it, droplets of tears fall onto the blanket bunched around your lap, like a rainfall that just doesn't stop. no matter how fast you bring your hands up to wipe them away. "Sorry, I'm just going—" “Go ahead. I see it every day." Alhaitham doesn’t let you argue. He pulls out a small handkerchief from his chest pocket, inscribed with the letter A in cursive. but he doesn’t mind your slight humiliation, or whatever it is making you uncomfortable in front of him, looking away and grabbing a piece of paper.

Once your blurry eyes are clear, you see that he has left you in silence, leaving behind a sheet of paper. clutching the white cloth, you read the words, a smile blooming on your face. Make a bucket list.

“Abiding by our policies, you can’t get your nails painted.” Alhaitham shuts down the 20th idea you had. He sat in the chair in front of you, avoiding the glare you threw at him and skimming through the third row. Maybe she should’ve predicted that a dying person would want to do exactly, one hundred and one, things before their death.

But it’s not like he’s done this before.

"Okay, what, can I do?!” You huff, already fed up with the word ‘no’. "Well, since you can’t go out, we can watch that movie, ’scream’, here." Alhaitham sighs, watching how your whole mood lit up, your eyes almost sparkling. This is going to be a long two months.

“mhm! what else.” You giggle, clapping your hands together. It’s almost comical to him to see how expressive you are. Looking back down at the paper he held, he began picking out some of the activities you would be able to do.

And in the end, you ended up winning him over in a few things, like being able to use some make-up for fun, more movies, specific snacks that you’ll have to eat at very specific times, board games that you convinced him to play with you, and basically anything and everything that you can do with the tiny little home of your room.

You even managed to persuade the silver-haired man to let you get some press-on nails. nails, which Candace, thankfully, went out to buy. but surprisingly, the doctor decided to put them on you himself. since Ms.Candace was attending to another patient and he had some free time. Well, at least that was his excuse. Not like you know, he was simply curious to see your excitement over something so small.

“That one fits the ring finger more.” You correct Alhaitham again, making him squint his eyes, mumbling under his breath, and moving his fingers to hold your hand firmer. And you just so happen to be right. He sets it aside carefully, putting it in the line of pretty pink and black gemmed nails. He picks up the last smaller nail, the one that finally fits your index finger perfectly.

“Isn’t it pretty?” You smile, adoring the nails, as he concentrates on applying the fake nails. He gives a low tsk, a faux look of confusion on his face. "Well, I dunno, they’re kinda...” he trails off, a neatly structured, stoic expression on his face that makes you roll your eyes. “They’re cute!” “If you say so.” Your adorable little glare makes him want to egg you on, but he stays silent for now.

Wait— Adorable? Maybe he has a headache from your nagging or something; there is nothing to worry about now.

You study his expression unknowingly; your eyes just so happened to need something to latch onto. And he’s clearly got a nice view. better than the nails. The small scrunch of his eyebrows is obviously dedicated to something so simple that it almost concerns you. Even the way he holds your hands up is tender, contrasting with his slightly calloused hands. He has a beautiful face too, and you think you can see some muscles hidden under his coat.

Sculpted so gorgeously. Funny, for such a snarky man.

“How old are you?” You blurt out, looking up at him as he glances at you in confusion. “Why?” He asks softly, almost done with your second hand as you contemplate. “Just curious.” “Curiosity killed the” “but satisfaction brought it back.” You finish before he can fully say the little saying. A small smirk of victory forms on your lips when he gives you a look that just radiates sass.

“Twenty-seven.” He gruffed. Perfect. “How did you even become a doctor so young?" You question him, a look of surprise crossing your face as he shrugs. “A few golden opportunities.” “Wait, are you not going to ask me how old I am?” You’re so clueless, Alhaitham thinks. “I’m your doctor. You must really not have a brain.” And you scoff at his words, but yet another question pops into your head. “Anyways! Favorite color?” “Are you serious, right now?" “If you don’t answer, I will personally file a complaint." "Green."

You two eventually ended up having a long conversation, with you asking him questions and him answering reluctantly. But what made it so long was him turning it on you and asking a few questions that you gladly responded to. All the while, he held one of your hands, not ever thinking to let go and just studying the ring you still wear. What a bubbly woman you are.

Alhaitham nearly let a curse out to the man who wronged you when you mentioned him once. He doesn’t care much, but how can someone be so stupid?

Alhaitham looks at the time on his watch. Two-thirty. Zipping up his lunch box, he heads towards the elevator, making a small stop in the room full of medicines. He ignores the calls in his name from other doctors or nurses who simply want to know more about the quiet man. He hates spending his breaks around people. Sadly, this just so happens to be one of the times when he’d love to have his headphones.

But duty calls.

He taps the button to go to the ninth floor, where your room is. Today is your movie day. That just so happened to land on Friday, the thirteenth too. He swipes through his notes, finding the password to his Hulu subscription. He only bought that for the movie series you like to watch on the smart TV installed in your room. *’Scream’ was it? Today you two were watching the fifth one, and you somehow logged him out for the third time within a week. Ms. Candace said you were snooping through the account settings or something like that.

What a hassle you are!

He reaches the high floor after a few seconds, making his way to your room and memorizing the password that he surprisingly always forgets. But, when he opens the door, he’s greeted with the sight of you fast asleep. Something makes him dread the energy you’ll have later in the evening, but he’s mindful of your rest. Placing his bags on the table silently and taking off his coat, he put it on the hook of the door.

The silence within your room is nice, for once. Usually, only the tension of your attitude or sadness would lie in the silence of this room. But only your light snores and the small drag of a chair were heard. Alhaitham moves to sit in a corner, thinking about leaving and having an extended break or waiting for you until you wake. But he picks the latter, crossing his arms and legs, leaning back, and letting his eyes drift onto your figure.

His mind was maybe a bit more active than before. He doesn’t know why, but he finds himself thinking of you more often: your health, your many expressions, your cheeky smiles, the dumb stuff that comes out of your mouth, and your eyes. To him, eyes are the purest form of honesty. like how yours can look like saucers when you’re shocked or diamonds when you're happy. or a pit of sadness.

Sadness. Alhaitham would think your only source of sadness in life was that fiancé of yours. Well, ex by now. A man who caused you so much pain that you’ve decided to live and die with. How could you ever love again if you’re so committed like this? But Alhaitham won’t ask you such things, out of respect, of course. It’s not like he’ll be pondering over them in a few weeks.

He shakes off the weird thoughts, dozing off.

You woke up to the sight. ‘What a sight for sore eyes.’ You quote in your head. You almost want to wipe away your eyes with how fine that man looks. Despite how creepy it was to notice the doctor in the corner of your room, His head was leaned against the wall, and his body stilled like stone as he slept. And his arms—Oh his arms. His arms were practically bulging out the scrubs he wore, so muscular. You almost want to touch them. Well, at least you know he keeps up with his gym regimen. Good thing he’s sleeping; now you can admire him more.

“You must have a staring problem.”

Maybe not.

His voice was a bit raspy, laced with tiredness as his eyes fluttered open, straight to you. “Why didn’t you wake me?” You divert him. Eyes away from him with an obvious flustered expression on your face. Alhaitham’s lips tug into a tiny, knowing smile, humored. But he decides to play along and not tease you any longer. “I’m not going to interfere with a patient's sleep.” He sighs, standing tall and going to put back on his coat. He checks the time. 4 PM.

“Before you watch your movie full of blood, you need your dosage.” Alhaitham ignores your whine in response, picking up the wrapped syringe in his white bag. “Ugh, why do I have to do three a day anyway? I’m feeling well.” You huff, holding out your arm as he walks to you, closing your eyes in anticipation. “That’s exactly why.” He mutters, holding your arm gently. “Breathe.” He says it softly, feeling your fast heartbeat on your wrist. “I clearly am." "Well, calm down.”

You purse your lips, complying and taking some deep breaths. Once his thumb presses the familiar spot between your forearm and arm, you feel the prick in your skin. Then comes the tingly feeling of fluid entering your body. You shiver, unexpectedly clutching his hand as your chest tightens. Alhaitham watches in interest, allowing you to hold onto him until the pain passes. "Can we watch that movie now?" You mumble, making him give your hand a final squeeze before letting go.

He grabs the remote on the table, turns on the TV, and flicks through the streaming services. “Hmm, I’m not sure. I think you like looking at something else,” he offhandedly mentions, giving you a small jab at your earlier actions and glancing down at the little funny face you gave him. “Oh c’mon!”

“What? It was just an assumption."

“But! Ugh!”

“Again!” You groan before Alhaitham can even slot his red chip into the blue holder. You’ve lost maybe five or six games of Connect Four now, sitting at this stupid table with this stupid game for maybe an hour and a half. "No, I can do it." Alhaitham says this while sitting back into his chair with that signature cross of his legs. “And why is that?” “It’s getting late.” And you pout, laying your head on the table as he watches you.

Those little target-like eyes of his drill into you. Moreso, the purple veins that have formed on your neck over the past month The area is dark, and the veins are even darker. There were parts of your body that suffered from the disease; your health was deteriorating so badly that it made him sick. You’ve become slower, unable to even stay awake for longer than eight hours. He and Ms. Candace have been hovering over you with every last second of your life, with the knowledge that you could drop dead at any moment.

“Not a good look, huh?" You murmur, feeling awful under his watchful gaze. And Alhaitham’s cocks his head, not entertained by your words. “Did I say that?”

"It's on your face."

“You have poor judgment, then."

And your face scrunches up, looking at him with an annoyed look. “What else would you think, then?” Alhaitham bites his tongue. something he doesn’t do a lot. Well, not at all. It’s not like him to interfere with a patient's choice, but...

“I’d think that you should get that operation.” He sighs, not bothering to take his eyes off you as you turn your head away. “Doctor. You know I—“ “Are you seriously letting a man who isn’t here dictate how your life ends?” He scoffs, letting a tone of disbelief creep into his voice before realizing his own words. But Alhaitham doesn’t correct himself.

He was already correct.

"Okay, well, why do you care? And yes, I know you’re my doctor and everything, but, you don’t act like this." You give him a pointed look, sliding the lever of the blue grid and letting the coins fall into the bin. “I’m just saying. Anyone in their right mind would at least be honest with you about this.” Alhaitham shrugs, but the truth is that he truly could not stand to see you like this. So in his right mind, he did the least he could do.

It's not like you know his true feelings.

You ponder over his words, playing with the ring on your left hand. He was right. But perhaps you expected too much from that damned man, the man you fell in love with classically, high school sweethearts who swore to marry, and oh, how so close you were to that dream.

Not every story has a happy ending.

But who were you to let some shitty man write your story’s ending while he goes to some fucking island with his fucking bimbo?

An idiot is what you’d be.

“Sure.” You whisper, bringing your elbow up and laying your head on your hand. Alhaitham gives you a look of satisfaction, a knowing smile forming on his face as he stands up. “I knew you weren’t that dumb.” “You know nothing!” You scoff, your chest bubbling with excitement for your future as you get ready to put away the board game. But he pulls the grid towards him and says, "You won’t need this here. I’ll just take it home.” He says it casually, making you pause.

“But it was a gift to me? Why—" “Do you seriously not know how to take a hint?” What’s with this man always interrupting you? You scowl. Hint? What hint—"Oh, wait—are you like, inviting, me over or something?” And Alhaitham only makes a sound of agreement, dropping the chips in the bin into the box. “yea, and I won’t be your surgeon, obviously. But once the day of your appointment comes, you won’t see me around. Just talk to Ms. Candace after they release you."

Alhaitham cleans up as you tuck yourself into bed, playing the background show of your choice before leaving with a small click of the door.

You can’t believe it. You aren’t dying in three weeks. and you’re going on a date. Well, in a month, but still!

“Um, should I just call him? I don’t want you to trouble you any longer. You were dressed in a fine black dress that Candace willingly gave to you. Your body healed after the operation within a few weeks of rest and food. You hadn’t seen the doctor—well, Alhaitham—since the day before your appointment.

So basically, a long time.

But after getting released from the hospital, Candace took you in and helped you familiarize yourself with life. And she just so happened to tell a specific man that you made a full recovery. which his immediate reply was, for you to come over to his house for dinner.

It was about time for him to properly pursue you.

“Oh? You must be eager to see him. He’s just a little car ride away, but if you insist, Candace teases, her eyes glimmering in amusement as she hands you your phone. You look at yourself in the mirror again; it feels so refreshing to actually see yourself healthy, not scrawny and filled with scotches of purple on your skin.

You spent over an hour in the mirror, buttering yourself up with some light makeup of your choice and admiring yourself.

You take the phone from her hand, chewing on your bottom lip nervously as you get to his contact. "There is no need to be nervous. I’m sure he’d swoon just from the sound of your voice.” She smiles, making you laugh, and clicks the call button. "Oh, please, he’s not that—

"You finally called."

You shiver at the sound of his voice. Who the hell answers the phone so quickly? “Sorry, but, uh, I was wondering if you could come pick me up." You aren’t sure how the tone of your voice got meek so quickly, but for some reason, it makes him chuckle. “*yea? I’m already on my way.” Maybe you were too sick to realize how hot his voice actually is, even just on the phone.

Candace notices how stiff you are, clearly flustered and shy. She leans to the phone and says, “What a gentleman you are! I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you! She might lose her head if you don’t hurry.” She sings, clicking the red button as you fall into her hug.

You two talk about some things you might be interested in doing in the future, like continuing your career and education in technology or finding a job soon so you can get out of her hair. It really feels nice, like you’re actually becoming something rather than being a little housewife with a fiancé who never took the time to love you.

You drift away from the conversation on cereal before milk when you hear a honk outside. Candace jumps up, holding your hand and guiding you to the door. “I feel like a mother,” she smiles, making you give her a grin. “You’re younger than me!” “But I’m wiser. Have a nice night, hun.” She opens the door for you, giving you the sight of a Black Cadillac parked beside her driveway.

You walked down the driveway nervously, clutching the sides of your dress with your purse in your other hand. Just as you reach the car, Alhaitham gets out, walking around to open your door but stopping you with a hand just barely ghosting your waist.

You two stare into each other's eyes, a light breeze blowing through the evening air as he looks you up and down. while you do the same. It felt like a blessing to be able to see his figure without those stupid scrubs. He wore a gray button-up with black slacks, simple but fitting. with some small amounts of jewelry that complement him well. Before you can even try your hand at being confident, he speaks before you: “You look decent." "I spent over two hours on this outfit! And you say, "Decent?"You huff playfully, the weight of your heart already dissipating when he gives an airy laugh, opening the door.

“Then I apologize..gorgeous." “That is so corny.” You jest, despite the increase in blood flowing to your cheeks. “I tried. But I was honest.” He sighs, almost disappointedly, but is careful of your legs before closing the door. Your mind races as you get comfortable in the car, noticing the light scent of cologne. How fancy.

At least it was better than those strong perfumes. like a dark, regal scent, but brisk.

“I was hoping to make you dinner, and then we can play another game I bought for you.” Alhaitham gets in, buckling up before giving Candace, who stood at her door, a small wave. “Yea?” “Yea.” You smile bashfully, your cheek bones betraying you as you hold your hand out. “I’d like that.” And Alhaitham returns your smile, examining your hand.

No ring. But he already has one in mind.

It’ll be silver.

He puts his hand in yours, interlocking it and squeezing firmly. “And I promise you’ll love it.”

Hopefully, you’ll love him too.

#genshin x female reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #gesnhin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin x you #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham #al haitam x reader #al haithem #alhaitham x female reader

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charliem-69 · 6 months

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what about miraculous au

ch 2

#okay guys but listen juST LISTEN—#yes it's my miraculous phase and i proud about it #now it's yours problem haha #genshin impact #genshin #kavetham #kavehtham #kaveh x alhaitham #genshin impact kaveh #genshin kaveh #kaveh #genshin alhaitham #alhaitham #al haithem #al haitham #genshin al haitham #miraculous ladybug #miraculous lb #mlb au

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roughcas · 9 days

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you are rich and i am filthy

small piece. reader x wrio, neuv, al, diluc, zhongli, childe, kaeya, ayato

growing up, you had nothing. fed to the wolves at birth, with no one to protect you. everything you had to do, was for pure survival. fights, stealing, whatever it was - was a life of pure distrust.

everything bad you did was just to provide food on the table and even then it was barely enough to survive.

so when your boyfriend, one of the most successful men in teyvat, throws a party; will your past haunt you?

there you were, slamming down drinks trying to forget this feeling of not feeling like you deserve this. he worked so hard to build this name, reputation, and success. when he was doing all of that, you were cruising around causing havoc.

some people from your past showed up, you knew theyre only here to taunt you. you could never escape. what made you so foolish to believe? love? its only making you vulnerable. you cant have your guard down. never again.

he walks over to you, a hand on your shoulder trying to console you about whatever it is you're feeling. he loves you regardless of your scars or your past.

it's not your fault they made you a monster.

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violet-eng · 4 months

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You give Al haitham! a bj I NSFW Alhaitham x fem!render🔞

Summary: So.. Alhaitham is now the ActingSrand Sage, and you, as the great gf you arefind Alhaitham to give him a "prize"

Tw: -+18 content, MDNI, blowjob (m!receiving,outdoors sex, established relationship.Nsfw under the cut

MDNI

2k words

Cr: Ahriii (@ahriii7) on X bc gosh that's what I imagined.

The news of Alhaitham's appointment as Acting Grand Sage has crept into your ears as you walk through the marketplace, lost in your riotous thoughts about your latest expedition.....

You hurry out of the city, eager and ready, to the place where you and he usually meet briefly, where the grass is low, the dew of the flowers floats in the air, the sweet nectar of nature, all on the shore of a lake, your lake.You find Alhaitham leaning against the trunk of a tree, holding a book in his hands, flower petals dancing in the wind, landing on his ashen hair. You approach him, and he greets you with a hint of a smile. Only you are able to draw that intimate, empathetic look from his stoic face.

"Congratulations, Acting Grand Sage," you say, sitting down next to him, your hands on the grass, damp from the dew and the proximity of the lake.

Alhaitham looks at you, a cold look for the average observer, a grateful look at your appreciations and experiences. You discover his eyes by pushing aside the fine gray locks on his forehead, meeting his loving orbs with crimson sparkles amidst a turquoise sea. Your fingers trace a path down his cheek, his skin pale and smooth, warm to your touch, until you reach his lips, tasting the corner with your digits.

"I am proud of you," you whisper, this small intimate space, just for the two of you, deserves no more than a chaste whisper.

"The title is a mere formality," he counters, his voice in a whisper, equal to yours, his hand clasping yours, on his cheek.

"Humble," you add, settling on your knees, skirt gathered over your thighs, soft flesh exposed to the grass, bathed in natural nectar, "just the way I like you.

You straddle him, dropping your weight onto his hips. Alhaitham brings his hands to your hips, sliding them over your ass in subtle movements, pure instinct taking hold of him, this man so rational and studied before you. The air becomes heavy, the space between you a chasm between your growing lust. His eyes shine, absorbed in your figure, in the contours of your face and the curve of your lips. He wants to kiss you, he's dying to, he's wanted to since you sat next to him.Alhaitham takes your chin between his fingers, his fingertips running along the angle of your chin, tilting your head to get better access to your lips. He brings his mouth to yours in a chaste, sweet, almost shy kiss that grows in intensity as the seconds pass.

He catches your lower lip with a soft nibble that shows his thirst for you, for the sweet nectar your skin gives off when he touches you, when he kisses you as he's kissing you right now. Your hands find his shoulders, his sculpted muscles feigning support for your palms. One of your hands runs up the nape of his neck, finding the base of his hair, tangling the digits between his arranged curls, making inroads into the ashen jungle of his hair.You share a wet kiss, your tongues exploring each other's every nook and cranny. Desperation grows as your hips rub against his in an attempt to deepen the kiss. The equivalent response to your action, swift and rigid, is the erect phallus beneath your clothed center.

Alhaitham grunts hoarsely, a masculine sound, as he breaks the kiss and stares at the mess you have made between his legs. His gaze dances between your face and his erection, studying the branches of possible outcomes to the current situation.Sinking into his mental expertise, he doesn't notice that you have changed your position on him. With your knees and elbows on the grass, you pull his pants off, or try to.

"Y/n, not here," the sound his lips make is drowned out by the burning sensation that spreads through his legs. The fire of excitement spreads to his chest and forehead, beads of warm sweat overflowing his eyebrows.

"There's no one around," the murmur is subtle, your good manners replaced by your lust, your hands releasing the excited excerpt of him, growing in desire as he feels contact with the open air.The tip, thick and with pre-cum surrounding its outline, the base long and broad, a throbbing mess. That part that longs to be tasted, to be devoured by your lips and to furrow the smooth folds of your throat. Alhaitham can't stop an electric shock from running down his spine as the image of your face, distorted by the penetration of his cock into your mouth, assaults his mind, a vision built on memories, past encounters.you gather your hair into a bow, Alhaitham watching every minute change in your movements, studying your anatomy, the way you arch your back, your hands behind your head as your chest pushes forward toward him.

Your cleavage gives access to his curious eyes, which see the silhouette of your breasts through the fabric."Not a good idea," he insists, against his growing instincts, against the insidious desire that overshadows rationality.

"Let me spoil you a little," you murmur, and you perceive a purr from the back of his throat, a blissful indicator of his bubbling satisfaction, "I must reward you for such an effort, at your age the attainment of titles of such caliber is a feast".Alhaitham takes one last look around, making sure no one witnesses the mess you're making of him, even though he knows you won't be conducting the symphony for long. Giving in to his baser instincts, to the sensitive, hot anticipation that has built up between the two of you, Alhaitham nods his head in a subtle, almost imperceptible movement, as if to absolve himself of the indecency that is about to take place.

Alhaitham takes your chin between his fingers, his fingertips running along the angle of your chin, tilting your head to get better access to your lips. He brings his mouth to yours in a chaste, sweet, almost shy kiss that grows in intensity as the seconds pass. He catches your lower lip with a soft nibble that shows his thirst for you, for the sweet nectar your skin gives off when he touches you, when he kisses you as he's kissing you right now. Your hands find his shoulders, his sculpted muscles feigning support for your palms.

One of your hands runs up the nape of his neck, finding the base of his hair, tangling the digits between his arranged curls, making inroads into the ashen jungle of his hair.You share a wet kiss, your tongues exploring each other's every nook and cranny. Desperation grows as your hips rub against his in an attempt to deepen the kiss. The equivalent response to your action, swift and rigid, is the erect phallus beneath your clothed center. Alhaitham grunts hoarsely, a masculine sound, as he breaks the kiss and stares at the mess you have made between his legs. His gaze dances between your face and his erection, studying the branches of possible outcomes to the current situation.

Sinking into his mental expertise, he doesn't notice that you have changed your position on him. With your knees and elbows on the grass, you pull his pants off, or try to.

"There's no one around," the murmur is subtle, your good manners replaced by your lust, your hands releasing the excited excerpt of him, growing in desire as he feels contact with the open air.

The tip, thick and with pre-cum surrounding its outline, the base long and broad, a throbbing mess. That part that longs to be tasted, to be devoured by your lips and to furrow the smooth folds of your throat. Alhaitham can't stop an electric shock from running down his spine as the image of your face, distorted by the penetration of his cock into your mouth, assaults his mind, a vision built on memories, past encounters.you gather your hair into a bow, Alhaitham watching every minute change in your movements, studying your anatomy, the way you arch your back, your hands behind your head as your chest pushes forward toward him. Your cleavage gives access to his curious eyes, which see the silhouette of your breasts through the fabric.

"Not a good idea," he insists, against his growing instincts, against the insidious desire that overshadows rationality.

Alhaitham takes one last look around, making sure no one witnesses the mess you're making of him, even though he knows you won't be conducting the symphony for long. Giving in to his baser instincts, to the sensitive, hot anticipation that has built up between the two of you, Alhaitham nods his head in a subtle, almost imperceptible movement, as if to absolve himself of the indecency that is about to take place.

Your hands perfectly frame the vertices of his erection, blissful fingers smooth against his sensitive skin, your palms molding to the expanse of his flesh, valleys known and explored, familiarity providing the right atmosphere. A deep sigh escapes from the back of his throat, falling to his lips in growing fervor at the pleasurable sensation the gentle alternating motion of your hands elicits from him. Alhaitham's heartbeat, almost as audible as the subtle, trembling, choked moans that leap from his chest, penetrate his ears, the blood flow swirling in the innermost corners."Whew, baby~" he slurred the grainy words, remnants of composure in his voice, his throat eroding his musical compliment, his hips parting slightly from the floor in an attempt to get more friction on your velvety hands."Patience," you coo as your hands squeeze his extension sharply. Alhaithman's chin contracts in a spasm, a worldly grimace of how well your hands are working him, as his lips, parted in a perfect 'o', utter the most mellifluous sounds ever heard from him.

Alhaithman's moans are lost amidst the crash of the nearby waterfall against the rocks, beautifully deposited amidst rippling seaweed, the gasps, wide and low, emerging from deep within his chest, the heart tangled in an elixir of sensations and pains, so submitted to you, so exposed… not the way the Acting Grand Sage should behave, no….

For he has always been the living image of an ideal scholar. Inconsistencies torment him, logic and formality rob him of the ability to allow himself to enjoy this afternoon with you, your hands so skillfully igniting sparks in his legs and swelling his balls.With his head thrown back, Alhaitham gives in to the dark desires of his baser instincts, ignoring the paradigm of his title and position in the Academy.

And his reactions are so ingrained in you that you notice the change in his posture, the change in his breathing pattern, and the anxious hesitation of his hands. His fingers move like hooks, painful spasms in his joints, his silhouette indicates what he desires, what reaches deep to escape him.

With every groan, every throbbing and every exaltation, Alhatitham sheds his virtues, his famous stoicism, and submits to your touch, to your warm, fine caresses on his cock, which feels so painfully well cared for by your palms.His chest is abused by the frantic beating of his heart, by the way his lungs swell for air, shuddering gasps escape his lips as he feels your tongue wipe away the drops of pre-cum that drip like pearls from his cock.

The familiar bitter sweetness permeates your taste buds. Your name escapes his lips in a plea, a muffled moan following the last syllable of your name. The frenzy of desire to be devoured by your mouth dulls the last drop of dignity the scribe has left."So pretty," he flatters, trying to appeal to your kindness, to free him from the torment of your tongue. You smile over his expanse, the warmth of your breath on his sensitive skin sending shock waves up his throat, where he stifles any number of embarrassing sounds.Your lips finally make the move Grand Sage craves, parting perfectly in an 'o' to give him access to his big fat cock in your mouth. The breath of your gasps embrace his length as it slides over your tongue, the taste of his skin mingling with your saliva, the way your throat tightens as he advances inside you.

"I so needed your mouth, y/n," he murmurs, so low you can barely hear him, as subtle as he is dirty, his words like granite on his wet lips.Your tongue dances around his phallus, taking it into your mouth in an explosion of pleasure and the burning caresses of your palate rubbing against its pulsating surface. Alhaitham falls to the lowest of his instincts as he brings one of his hands to the nape of your neck, grabbing your hair in a fist and tangling it in his slender, long fingers to bring your head further down on his cock.

You feel the penetration down your throat, across the curve of your arch, down of your neck, the rings of your throat cavity scraping his length, the nausea coming and your watery eyes staring into his.

"So accommodating, my y/n, not even the Akasha has enough knowledge for someone to be able to do this as well as you," he expresses as he watches you from his position, the height giving him some authority over you, the imposing posture over your figure.

Your eyelashes flutter as pearls of tears hang from your eyes, your gaze blurry, raging ecstasy. You have completely lost control, for it is he who now takes the baton, fucking your throat as if his life depended on it. The flow of the waterfall is peaceful, as are the grunts Alhaitham's chest emits as your saliva bathes his cock and his throat contracts in delicate spasms."Fuck, how good your little mouth is," he gasps, hoarse and husky, the movements of his hand showing his frenzy and his thirst for you, the caresses of your tongue and the way your throat expands to receive him. The revolutions increase, decency is gone and the lack of rhythm means that he is about to cum.

"I'm going to empty my balls into your mouth," he announces, raising his hips to meet your chin, and from the impact a slimy melody is born, an erotic crash and an irregular frisson."Shit, y/n!" his expression is vulgar, the same way his face contorts as his orgasm floods your mouth and a rivulet of milk overflows your corners, your lips turning bright white."How beautiful," he mentions as his fingers lift your chin and caress the contours of your jaw. Your eyes meet his as you swallow his seed, earning a nod of approval from him.Alhaitham is a bit grotesque when it comes to social relations, his lack of tact and almost complete lack of empathy make him a purely rational subject, except when he is with you, when you sit next to him after adjusting his trousers and he gives you a warm smile, or when you rest your head on his shoulder and he lets out a pleasant sigh… and shows his affection towards you, especially when he wipes the remains of his cum from your lips, wanting to restore your respectable facade after the good blow job you gave him…

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