abyislan08

[abyislan08]

[abyislan08]

𝐝𝐫.𝐚𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 ‧₊˚ part 2 | fluff

╰┈➤ fem reader. reader is alhaitham’s patient (this may be a bit self indulgent hehe). mild flirting. fluff. attempt at comedy, just a drabble ig, i love alhaitham fr— WAH a part 2 ?? masterlist

part 1 | part 2

Unknown Number: Hi. This is Dr. Alhaitham. I received your results. Are you available to come in tomorrow?

Your heart skips a full beat.

Wait. Wait.

You reread the message about eight times, thumb trembling over the screen.

Dr. Alhaitham. Dr. ALHAITHAM.

You never gave him your number. Not directly. The clinic must’ve had it on file from your intake paperwork. Still—why did he text? Shouldn’t it have been the nurse? Or the front desk?

Your brain spins in three different directions while your thumbs hesitate, hovering mid-air. What tone do you even take with a man who has seen your bloodwork and your undereye bags?

You: Hi… yes, I’m free. Is everything okay?

You don’t expect a reply right away, but the bubbles pop up almost instantly—like he was waiting. Watching the clock.

Dr. Alhaitham: I’d rather explain in person. It’s nothing urgent. I just… want to speak to you myself. Tomorrow at 10?

You stare. Blink. Re-read. “I just… want to speak to you myself.”

Butterflies launch a full-scale riot in your stomach. Your cheeks go hot. You’re squealing internally as your thumbs tap out a response that’s way too calm for how your heart is behaving.

You: Okay. I’ll be there. Also… is this your personal number?

A beat.

The kind of beat where you spiral. Where you consider throwing your phone across the room, just to escape the weight of your own message.

Your face is burning. Why did you ask that? Why did he use it?

The silence stretches until it starts to ache. And then—ping.

Dr. Alhaitham: Yes.

A full-body meltdown ensues.

You collapse back into the couch like a Victorian woman being told her corset’s been outlawed. He gave you his number. He texted you himself. He wants to talk to you personally.

Tomorrow cannot come fast enough.

The Next Morning…

You show up to the clinic early. Too early. You pretend you’re just organized, but really you’re anxiously clutching your water bottle like it’s a lifeline. You tried to look effortless—pulled-together, but not obvious. Cute, but not trying too hard. Just… normal. Which is laughable, considering the amount of time you spent choosing earrings.

The nurse checks you in with a kind smile. You sit in the waiting room, leg bouncing, rehearsing responses in your head.

Then he appears.

Alhaitham steps out from behind the frosted glass doors. Still in his lab coat, still maddeningly unreadable. But when his eyes find yours—there’s a flicker of something. Recognition. Warmth. Something quieter.

“Come in,” he says, stepping aside.

You could swear—swear—the corner of his mouth twitches, like it’s tempted by a smile.

You follow him in.

The exam room is quiet, neat, humming with soft fluorescent light. You take your seat. He opens your file, but doesn’t look at it. His eyes stay on you.

“I didn’t want to go through the receptionist this time,” he says, voice quiet. “I thought it might make you anxious.”

You blink. The words take a second to land. “Oh. That’s… kind of considerate.”

“Also,” he says, finally glancing down, “your iron levels are low. You’ll need supplements. I’ve written the prescription.”

He slides the slip across the desk like he’s handing you a secret. You take it carefully, like it might crumble.

Silence.

The kind that sits heavy. The kind that means something.

He closes the folder, slow and deliberate. Leans forward just slightly, elbows braced on the desk, fingers laced.

“You didn’t tell me you’d been feeling this way for a while.”

You look away, shoulders curling in slightly. “I didn’t want to be dramatic.”

“You said you were a Victorian woman,” he deadpans.

You smile despite yourself, soft and a little sheepish. “Okay, but that’s just my personality.”

He watches you. Sharp eyes, steady and assessing—but not unkind.

Then, gently: “I don’t think you’re dramatic.”

You suck in a breath, caught off guard.

“I think you’re… overwhelmed. Tired. Maybe not used to being taken seriously.”

Your throat tightens. You bite the inside of your cheek. Something inside you shifts.

“I just treat patients,” he says. “But… I remembered you. More than I expected.”

Your heart slams once, hard. “…Why?” you whisper.

He shrugs, gaze not quite meeting yours. “You made an impression.”

Your grip tightens on the paper in your lap.

And then—his voice drops lower: “If you feel dizzy again… or if anything gets worse—don’t wait. Just message me. Directly.”

You nod, silent.

And as you leave—hand curling around the doorknob, heart thudding in your chest like it’s trying to break free—his hand comes to rest gently on the small of your back.

Warm. Steady. Certain.

You freeze. Just for a breath. His palm lingers there like it belongs, grounding you in the quiet between heartbeats. You swear you feel the heat of it radiating through the fabric of your blouse, straight into your spine.

You try not to melt. Try not to show how much that simple touch undoes you.

Then, just as your breath begins to hitch, he leans in slightly. Not too close. Just enough that his voice slides in low, just above a whisper.

“Go home safely.”

His hand slips away—slowly, deliberately. The loss of contact is almost startling.

You turn, instinctive, eyes finding his.

And he’s already looking at you.

Not blankly. Not politely. No, his gaze is sharp and unreadable, steady and direct. There’s something in it—something knowing—that makes your breath catch and your fingers tighten around the cold metal of the doorknob.

You swallow hard.

You manage to nod. Maybe say “good bye.” You’re not sure. Your brain’s short-circuiting.

You take one step out.

Two.

You don’t even make it to the end of the hallway before your knees buckle slightly. Not enough to fall. Just enough to feel the ghost of his hand still lingering on your back.

11:41 p.m.

Your room is dim, bathed in the glow of your phone screen. You’re curled up in bed, overthinking the day in painful HD. You keep replaying every word. Every glance. Every almost-smile.

You haven’t messaged him. Even though he told you to.

You want to. But courage, it turns out, is fictional after 10 p.m.

Then—your phone lights up.

Dr. Alhaitham: Are you awake?

You sit up so fast you almost concuss yourself on the headboard. Your heart stumbles. Hands fumble.

You: yes?

A pause.

Dr. Alhaitham: Sorry if this is strange. I just remembered something you said the other day.

Your pulse is in your ears. You clutch your phone like it might float away.

You: Which thing? (The Victorian woman part?)

A longer pause. Bubbles come and go.

Dr. Alhaitham: No. The part about collapsing into someone’s arms. You joked. But I keep thinking about it. Wondering if someone’s ever really done that for you.

The air leaves your lungs.

The world stills.

This isn’t a joke anymore.

You: No one ever has. Why?

A minute passes.

Then:

Dr. Alhaitham: Because I think you deserve to be caught. Even when you’re not falling.

You sit frozen in your bed, the blanket bunched around your waist, the silence loud in your ears. His words wrap around you like warmth. Like something you didn’t know you needed.

Then, another message:

Dr. Alhaitham: Sorry. That was unprofessional. Good night.

But you can’t stop staring at the one before it.

“Because I think you deserve to be caught.”

The School Auditorium – 10:07 AM

The lights are too bright. The hum of the overhead fluorescents buzzes against the high ceiling, competing with the chorus of second-graders who are very much not using their indoor voices. You’re wrangling your chaos crew down the aisle—two are arguing about who’s taller, one’s asking if astronauts eat soup, and another is trying to lick the back of their own nametag.

You’re functioning on three hours of sleep, a half-drunk coffee that went cold in your cup holder, and the sheer force of whatever maternal instinct allows a person to stop a glitter spill midair.

You don’t notice the man walking onto the stage at first. Not until the noise cuts.

The chatter dies so suddenly it’s eerie—twenty-five small heads pivoting in unison toward the front like a hive mind has seized them.

You look up.

And your brain short-circuits.

There, standing at the center of the stage, is a man. Clipboard in one hand. Other tucked neatly into the pocket of a lab coat. He’s tall—really tall—built like someone who definitely doesn’t trip over his own feet, and carrying himself with the kind of effortless confidence that makes you feel like you’ve shown up underdressed to your own job.

He’s calm. Polished. Crisp lines and clean edges. A quiet authority that makes even the most fidgety of your kids fall still.

Alhaitham.

Dr. Alhaitham.

Your doctor.

Your heart leaps to your throat and lodges there.

He scans the room slowly, methodically. Dispassionate and professional—until his eyes land on you.

And pause.

Just for a second.

But it’s enough. Your breath catches. Your stomach does a little somersault, unprompted.

You are suddenly painfully aware of the state you’re in: oversized cardigan, mystery glitter on your left sleeve, your hair pinned back with a pencil because someone borrowed your last claw clip. There’s a child gripping your leg like it’s the mast of a sinking ship.

He starts to speak—something about germs and handwashing and healthy habits—but you don’t really hear it. The children do. They’re captivated. Spellbound.

You’re just trying to remember how to breathe.

The talk ends after what feels like a hundred years but also three minutes. You start herding your class toward the exit, one hand on a shoulder, another plucking a crayon from someone’s mouth.

And then your phone buzzes.

You glance down.

Dr. Alhaitham : You didn’t tell me you were a teacher.

You stop mid-step. The world tilts slightly.

You read it again.

You: You didn’t tell me you do school tours.

The reply comes so fast you know he had the message half-written already.

Dr.Alhaitham : I don’t. I only agreed because the principal is a patient. Didn’t expect to see you. (Or twenty-five second graders clinging to your legs.)

A breath escapes you—half laugh, half disbelief. Your heart’s still racing, but it’s a little lighter now. Warmer.

You: Yeah well… you might have cracked the case. That’s why I was always sick. Kid germs are no joke.

You watch the typing bubble appear. Disappear. Appear again.

You can feel the deliberation behind it. He’s thinking. Rethinking. Overthinking. You know the feeling too well.

Then finally—

Dr. Alhaitham : I get it now. All the coughs. The dizziness. The stress. You were holding together an entire classroom by sheer willpower.

You stare at your screen, throat tightening.

Something about the way he says it. The way he sees it.

Then another ping.

Dr. Alhaitham : You’re… kind of incredible, you know. Even with stickers on your pants.

You slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound that leaves it. A sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a scream.

Because you look down—and yep. There they are.

Two sparkly dinosaur stickers on your thigh.

And suddenly, you don’t feel quite so exhausted anymore.

—usagii’s note

I wish alhaitham was real :(

[abyislan08]

𝐝𝐫.𝐚𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 ‧₊˚ (fluff)

╰┈➤ fem reader. reader is haitham’s patient (this may be a bit self indulgent hehe). mild flirting. fluff. attempt at comedy, just a drabble ig, i love alhaitham fr— just wanted to write something small before disappearing again ehe. masterlist

The first time you met Dr. Alhaitham, he walked in like a problem you weren’t ready to solve.

The door eased open with a soft click, and you barely had a second to breathe before he stepped through. And just like that, every rational thought in your head short-circuited.

He was tall—so tall—and built like the universe had carefully balanced strength and elegance just for him. His white coat hung open, effortlessly draped over broad shoulders, the fabric swaying slightly with each step like it knew how lucky it was. Underneath, his black button up shirt fit too well and his tie perfectly in place.

But it was his face that hit the hardest.

Angular jaw. Perfectly cut cheekbones. Lips set in a neutral line that looked like they’d never curve into anything as mundane as a smile. His hair—a soft grey, slightly tousled like he'd run a hand through it absentmindedly—framed his face with just enough dishevelment to be maddening.

And then his eyes met yours.

Cool, turquoise irises - pupils rimmed with amber. Focused. Sharp. Like a lens sliding into place. He looked at you—not through you, not past you, but at you—and your brain promptly melted into static.

You forgot how to sit properly.

You shifted on the exam table and winced at the ridiculously loud crinkle of the paper beneath you. Great. Smooth. Very dignified.

He glanced down at his tablet. “Name?”

You mumbled it. Or at least, you think you did. Your mouth moved, and he didn’t ask again, so that was something.

His gaze flicked up again, this time assessing. “Hm.”

Just hm.

You wanted to die. Or be swallowed whole by the earth. Or maybe just crawl under the table and never come out again.

He walked closer, writing a few things down, entirely unfazed. His presence filled the room with a kind of quiet intensity, like a thunderstorm just waiting to happen. He asked clinical questions in a deep, calm voice that was way too smooth for your current state of mind.

When he stepped beside you and reached for your wrist, you nearly levitated off the table.

His fingers were precise, cool, steady as they pressed against your skin. Meanwhile, you were vibrating at a frequency only small rodents could hear.

“Pulse is elevated,” he said absently, glancing at the numbers. “Unusual.”

You cleared your throat. “I’m—uh. Just—nervous.”

“I assumed,” he replied, flatly. “Though I haven’t done anything yet.”

Oh my god.

Was that deadpan sarcasm? Was that dry humour? From him?

Your face burned. You could feel the flush rising like a tidal wave, heat crawling up your neck and settling in your ears.

He tilted his head slightly, studying you again. Not with empathy. Not with judgment. Just that same unreadable curiosity, like you were a particularly odd research sample.

“Try to relax. You're only making it worse.”

You let out a high-pitched laugh that did not help your case.

He returned to his notes without another word, cool and methodical as he moved through the rest of the exam. Every brush of contact was maddening. He was so calm, so put-together, while you were over here trying not to pass out from sheer mortification.

Finally, he stepped back and moved to the door.

He paused there, one hand on the handle.

“You should drink more water,” he said, still not looking back. “And maybe avoid overly stimulating environments.”

Then, after a beat—so soft you almost missed it:

“Charismatic doctors included.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

You sat there, frozen, heart racing like you'd just run a marathon on zero sleep and five cups of coffee.

You buried your burning face in your hands.

You were so, so doomed.

The second time you met Dr. Alhaitham, you told yourself it was just a check-up. Just routine. Just to confirm you’re healthy. That’s all.

You definitely didn’t fix your hair twice in the waiting room. Or rehearse what you’d say if he asked anything personal. Or almost chicken out at the front desk.

And then… there he is again.

Same white coat. Same unreadable face. Clipboard in hand. He doesn’t smile. He nods. That’s it. Like you’re a piece of data.

“Still having the same symptoms?” he asks, setting his pen against paper, eyes flicking up for half a second.

“No,” you say too quickly. “I mean—yes. I mean—sort of?” You feel the shame rise like steam in your face. Be normal, you beg yourself silently. Be a normal human.

His brow furrows. “That’s… not very clear.” He’s not being rude. He’s just direct. His voice is so flat, so serious, it makes you squirm.

You try to say something coherent while he approaches with the stethoscope. And then it happens again—he touches your wrist to take your pulse.

Immediate panic.

He blinks. “Still elevated.”

“It’s warm in here,” you blurt.

He tilts his head slightly. “It’s… twenty-two degrees Celsius.”

You die. Right there. He probably thinks you’re about to pass out. Or lying. Or both. Meanwhile, he’s moving through the appointment like you’re not experiencing a romantic crisis every time he breathes near you.

“You’re giggling,” he says, suddenly.

You freeze. “I’m—not!”

He looks up. That same unreadable stare. “You are. It’s fine. Some patients get nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” you say way too fast, your voice a squeak now.

He just nods again. “Hmm.”

Hmm.

That’s it. You’re never recovering from this.

Then, as he’s about to leave, he pauses. Flips through his notes.

“You drink enough water now?” he asks without looking at you.

Your stomach flips. He remembered.

You nod.

“Good,” he says. Still serious. Still calm. Still a walking paradox of soft hands and distant eyes. “You seem better. Maybe next time, you won’t giggle.”

And then he leaves.

And you sit there.

Absolutely gone.

The third time you met Dr. Alhaitham, you weren’t supposed to be here. You just needed toothpaste. That’s all. One boring little errand.

You’re in your softest hoodie, your least presentable state, and you’re standing in the pharmacy aisle, zoning out while debating between two brands of lip balm—because clearly, your life is thrilling.

And then, you hear it. That voice. Calm, low, quiet—but unmistakable.

“Excuse me.”

You turn.

It’s him.

Your doctor. In a black button-up and fitted trousers. No white coat. No clipboard. No clinical detachment to protect you.

Just… him. Hair slightly tousled. Glasses pushed up on his nose. Holding a box of vitamins like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

You nearly drop your chapstick.

“Oh,” you say. Too loudly. Too high-pitched. “Hi.”

His eyes land on you, calm as ever, and he nods like it’s perfectly normal that the man you’ve been lowkey fantasizing about is now standing three feet away by the travel-size shampoo.

“I remember you,” he says, flatly. Not unkind. Just observant.

You nearly ascend. “Uh—yeah. I’m… still hydrated.”

A pause. The corner of his mouth twitches. Twitches.

“That’s good,” he says, and somehow it sounds like a compliment.

You just stare. Like an idiot. Because he’s wearing a real person outfit. And his sleeves are rolled up. And his forearms exist. And he’s not doing anything wrong, but you’re actively malfunctioning.

He glances down at the item in his hand, then holds it up. “Do you know if these actually help? I’ve read mixed studies on the absorption rate.”

He’s asking you. For an opinion. On vitamins. And you’re trying to remember how to form a sentence.

“I—I mean, I just… get the gummies,” you say.

He actually blinks. “Gummies?”

You nod. “They’re easier to… chew?”

Another pause. And then, a quiet, rare sound: a soft huff of amusement. You don’t even think it’s a laugh. But it’s close enough to make your chest burst like a firework.

“You’re different outside the clinic,” he says simply.

You panic. “Is that bad?”

“No,” he says, adjusting his glasses. “Just… surprising.”

Your heartbeat is in your ears.

You manage a half-smile. “You’re different too.”

He tilts his head. “How so?”

“You… have forearms.”

His eyebrows go up. You want to eat the floor.

“I mean—not that I think about your forearms—I just—”

He’s watching you. Quiet. Sharp. Then he says, very calmly:

“You’re blushing again.”

You wish for lightning to strike you on the spot. He adjusts the box in his hand like this is all very standard and unremarkable.

And then, as casually as anything:

“I’ll remember the gummies next time.”

And he walks away.

Leaving you standing there like a disaster in a hoodie, holding two kinds of lip balm and a pounding heart.

The fouth time you met Dr. Alhaitham, the waiting room is cold again, or maybe you’re just more sensitive today. You clutch your jacket tighter, feeling that weird mix of dizzy and tired that’s been creeping up for days. You told yourself it was nothing—just stress, maybe. But now you’re here again.

The nurse calls your name, and your heart skips. Because you already know who’s going to be behind that door.

You step into the exam room and sit down, and sure enough—there he is. Doctor Serious. Doctor Calm. Doctor devastating.

Except this time, his eyes linger longer when he sees you.

“You don’t look well,” he says immediately.

You blink. “Gee, thanks.” why do you think I am here ? well it is also to stare at your gorgeous face but I am not going to disclose that to you.

His brow lifts. You didn’t mean to sound so sarcastic. But your voice is quieter than usual, and your usual panic feels dulled by how out-of-it you feel. He steps closer, watching you carefully.

“Dizzy spells?” he asks, sitting down across from you. “Headaches?”

You nod. “Yeah. And I feel kinda tired all the time. Like… weirdly tired.”

He watches you. Really watches you. “Have you been eating regularly?”

You hesitate. “Um. I mean. Mostly. Maybe not perfectly.”

“Have you fainted?”

“No,” you say. “I just… feel like a dying Victorian woman sometimes.”

That earns a real reaction: a soft exhale, not quite a laugh—but the closest you’ve ever gotten. He looks at you again, like he’s trying to read through your jokes.

“Victorian woman,” he echoes.

You shrug weakly. “I’d look really cute collapsing into someone’s arms.”

His lips twitch. “Let’s avoid collapsing for now.”

He runs a few tests, checking your pulse again—so gently—and this time when your heart spikes, he doesn’t even comment on it. He just looks at you, a bit more quietly than usual.

“Your iron might be low,” he says. “Have you been on your period recently?”

You blink. “Why would you—how’d you—?”

“You’ve been here before,” he says simply. “You were flushed and talkative. Now you’re pale and slow to respond.”

You stare. “So you… remember me that well?”

He doesn’t answer. Just writes something into his file.

And then, suddenly, he says:

“You were at the pharmacy the other day.”

Your stomach flips. “Yeah.”

“I bought the gummies,” he says.

You blink. “Did they change your life?”

“Not yet,” he murmurs, writing something down. Then: “I don’t usually see patients outside the clinic.”

You don’t know what to say. He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, but his voice is… softer.

“I just mean,” he says slowly, “you’re different. Less anxious today. Or maybe just tired.”

He looks up, and for the first time, there’s something like concern in his eyes.

“I want you to get a blood test,” he says. “I’ll write a referral.”

You nod, barely processing, because all you can focus on is the way he’s not looking at you like you’re a puzzle anymore. He’s looking at you like he actually… cares - well he is a doctor it is his job to treat you, his patient and to care for you as his patient.

And when you stand up to leave, a little wobbly on your feet, he places a hand gently—so gently—at your elbow.

“Careful,” he says. “You’re still a little pale.”

You look up at him.

“Will you be there when I collapse dramatically?” you ask, trying to joke through the fog in your head.

He doesn’t smile. But his voice is quieter than ever when he replies:

“Always.”

And then he lets go.

part 2

usagii's note ‧₊˚

welp, ill write another part tmr when i come back from college, ugh i love haitham, i wish he was real ssksjkjskjs

[abyislan08]

seraph

﹢ feat. alhaitham

﹢ premise. slow summer days spent with his angel are his favorite.

﹢ cw. GN reader, modern AU, established relationship

Sundays are simple for Alhaitham.

His alarm goes off at 6:30 AM, but he knows he won't get out of bed for another thirty minutes. How could he, with you clinging to his torso like a baby koala? And so a strong fist slams the snooze button after the first ring, and Alhaitham basks in the warm rays of sunshine filtering through the window, your quiet puffs of air lulling him back to sleep. 

Eventually, he frees himself from your grasp to get ready for his workout, and despite the numerous kisses he peppers on your face in apology, you still grumble about it.

"Don't leave me, the bed will get cold," you whine with your eyes still closed, a hand blindly reaching out to grab his wrist.

"I need to go, love," he whispers. A kiss is pressed against your forehead, and you scrunch your nose at the sensation. "Or else who will be strong enough to carry you to bed when you fall asleep on the sofa?"

And so you let him go (reluctantly).

But before leaving for the gym, he takes one last look at you, your hair splayed out across the pillow like silk, the soft scent of your body calling him back to bed. You're an angel, he thinks, because no human could ever fill him with as much love as you do.

After two hours and one "good morning!" text from you, he's at the grocery store, eyes skimming the list you wrote together. A mix of fruits and veggies makes it into the cart, along with his protein shakes and your sour gummies. Alhaitham remembers to throw in a few extra goodies too: the new imported pastries you've been raving about all week, a tin of tea for the stomach ache you had last night, and an assortment of flowers (he likes the way your eyes light up when he presents you with a fresh bouquet).

With the groceries secured in the backseat, he makes his way to the laundromat, parking next to your car. His angel is already inside, struggling to load the laundry into the topmost washing machine. Amused, he watches you hop around for a moment—you've started to fling your clothes into the machine like a basketball—before heading inside.

"Need help, sweetheart?" The bell above the door rings as he walks in. He greets you with a quick peck on the lips before reaching for the laundry basket balanced precariously on your hip.

"It's about time," you huff. "How are all the machines on the bottom row full?"

"Should I bring you a ladder next time?"

"… Not funny, Alhaitham."

Another kiss is pressed to the pout of your lips.

He insists on taking over the laundry, chuckling when you flush at the sight of your underwear in his hands. He tells you that you shouldn't be so embarrassed about it, though. After all, he was the one sliding them down your thighs last night. 

You let out a scandalized gasp in response, your cheeks burning at the memory.

When the washer starts to fill with water, the two of you settle onto the hard plastic chairs in the back of the room. You lean your head against his shoulder, peering at the book in his lap. You read a little slower than him, so he traces the same paragraph over and over again, waiting for you to finish the page.

It's quiet, save for the hum of the machines in the room and the occasional rustling of pages turning. Alhaitham wishes he could stop time right at this moment. It's his favorite part of the day—a chance to pause and take a break from the mundane chores, a chance to watch your pretty eyes taking in each word on the page. An angel from heaven, he's swearing to himself when you suddenly look up and catch him staring.

"Thought you were reading," you giggle. "Is the book that boring?"

Alhaitham leans in, lips almost brushing against yours as he speaks, "I'd rather be doing something else right now."

You gasp in response.

[abyislan08]

roomate hc with haitham and kaveh!! (except they spoil you rotten)

tags: fluff and more fluff as you dig deeper

a/n: i love this idea sm that i wanted to make it some kind of a series lmk your thoughts!! also not proofread!!

0.6k words! »

alhaitham waking up with the cutest bed hair as he went out from his room to sit on the living room, and you walked up to him to comb over it from behind as he sat in a daze blinking away the sleep although the comfort of your hand almost made him dozed off again.

lying down on kaveh’s lap or vice versa as you tell him about your day and he told his, somehow you both were always in the best mood so it could took hours, with all the laughing and giggles.

watching movies as you three cramped down on a couch with you in the middle. and somehow they always fell asleep mid-way instead on either side of you forcing you to sleep there as well since there’s no way you had the energy to move two grown ass man. but somehow the next morning you always found yourself waking up in your own room, tucked in with your blanket and all that.

playing with kaveh’s hair all the time; braiding it when he’s so focused on making his latest project, putting it on a pony tail as it often get in the way. sometimes he’ll even ask you to style it when he was getting ready to go out.

clothes. stealing. “(y/n), have you seen my white shirt anywhere?” alhaitham asked as he walked to your room, “yes, i’m wearing it right now!” you said. he just sighed, not even surprised in the slightest. yet he let you all the time. or sometimes it’s not even clothes anymore. you’d find your blanket you’ve been searching for with kaveh randomly. “you smell nice, okay?” he made an excuse. “this entire household uses the same detergent, kaveh.”

when you hover around the kitchen, in an attempt to make dinner and not long after both of them came and would offer help without any prompting whatsoever. the help was in fact an exchange for a peaceful time since alhaitham and kaveh would argue about the better method to do literally anything. you’d let out the most terrifying sigh, that’s somehow always audible to both of them  then went to stare them dead in the eye. “behave.” you narrowed our eyes. “yes (y/n).”

getting ready to go out at night for a quick trip to buy a snack and they would never let you a step out of the door alone. “i’m going out for a bit, okay?” you said as you put on a jacket. “sure.” “alright.” and then they got up from whatever they were doing as they grab their coat. “but i didn’t-“ kaveh didn’t let you finish as he grab your arm, pulling you out of the house as alhaitham locked the door behind him.

reading with alhaitham. though the contents of your books maybe very different you both just enjoyed the shared quiet time. sometimes one of you would prepare a coffee or tea for the other without even needing to ask. sometimes you’d lean on his side, to try to find a better reading position and he just welcome you as he chuckled a little at your restlessness.

you literally being the only one who gets a pass giving them an unprompted sudden hug just because you wanted to. alhaitham would knew that you’re up to no good by your mischievous smile. “what?” he asked in suspicion, and you just hugged him. alhaitham didn’t react strongly as he had expected this was one of many outcome from your actions. his blank expression broke into a the slightest smile as he gently pat your head. “there are better ways to ask for this, don’t you think?” he said with the softest tone you couldn’t help but melt. with kaveh he just returned the hug just as enthusiastically, practically squeezing you—although not to an extent that it would hurt. his hands would meet at your back, giving you back scratches and the most comfortable hug someone could give. “you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you could hear the smile as he said it. “mhhmm.” you hummed, as you closed your eyes.

[abyislan08]

midnight drabble | alhaitham

this is truly just me rambling and i realized it's alr 1k words

-

“haitham, you’re a terrible drinking buddy.” you put your drink aside, crossing your hands at the table as if preparing for a serious conversation. “i don’t think i’m responsible into living up the expectations you have of me in your head.” he said quietly, sipping on his drink. “always so serious, you do know this is why i’m your only friend at akademiya, right?”

“well-“ he started and you quickly cut him off. “stop. don’t start with me. even if kaveh was held at gunpoint i think he’d still hesitate on calling you a friend, and you know that.” the retort left the man that sat across you speechless.

to be fair, the word friend that said to describe your relationship also doesn’t sit right with alhaitham. he didn’t know when it started, but he definitely know that he yearned for your affection, longed to hold you, to call you more than a friend, to tell you that your presence had made his bleak life more exciting and fun—words that he did not use often before meeting you. however, he would also like to take this useless realization down to his grave. every other day and whatnot now you really loved to remind him that you’re his only friend, doesn’t that make it very clear where your stance is in this relationship thing?

for now he had to settle that being near you is enough.

“what are you thinking?” you said, ceasing his train of thought. he looked at you whose voice slightly slurred. “nothing.” he thought about drinking more but drew his hand back seeing how you’re getting drunk and it would need someone sober to bring them home. “lies, your face shows otherwise just now.” you put the weight of your head on your right hand, staring intently at the gray-haired male. “just.. a deadline i forgot.” he rested his gaze somewhere else. you snorted loudly, like a wave of laughter just hit you suddenly and you couldn’t hold it in. “fine, i won’t force you to tell. but you’ll have to know that’s a very bad excuse, mr. ‘i always submit my work a week early’”

“touche.” alhaitham drank to that.

-

“i’m done here, wanna head back?” you started to stand up, heading out from the tavern. haitham paid the tab and was quick to tail you out. contrary to what he always said the next morning, he really didn’t mind taking care of you when you’re drunk. if it means more time being close to you like this, then he wouldn’t dare to mind.

not long after following you, he saw you standing still looking around for something. when he reached your vision, your eyes lit up. “there you are!!” you put your hand around his waist, dangerously low—and certainly low enough to make the usual stoic man slightly flustered. he sighed, having seen this way too many times but he hadn’t allowed himself to be used to this. not when he could lose this familiarity any second of the night.

“you’re always so-” he cut himself off, knowing whatever complaints will fall on deaf ear. so inconsiderate as to how i feel.

“let’s get you home first.” he put an arm on your shoulder, his big hand rested on the side of your upper arm. unlike usual where you just let yourself dragged around by him, this time you just stood there, not budging.

“haitham, kiss me.” you casted your gaze down.

“i don’t kiss drunkards,” he nonchalantly said, thinking it’s just another of your rambling under the influence of alcohol. but when you looked at him, he was surprised at your serious expression, traces of being intoxicated was nowhere to be found.

“then what if i’m not drunk?” you asked, this time your eyes was unwavering, looking straight at the male in front of you. he seemed a bit conflicted, still wasn’t sure if you’re being honest or not. but it was true, you only ordered grape juice a moment ago. come to think of it, assuming that you’re drunk wasn’t really your fault now is it?

haitham is a tough nut to crack, even more so than some researches you were forced to jump into as a student at akademiya. however under the layers of that, you could not help but be drawn to him as you get to know him. haitham who’s always seemed so out of touch with his emotions, when it turns out he’s just having a hard time understanding things that is not in text books. you saw the way his eyes drooped ever so slightly every time you said you had to go out of sumeru to work on a project, or when his lips displayed the tiniest smile when you told him you would wait for him in the library to go home together. his gestures were extremely subtle but you could not let it go unnoticed, especially when you’re about the only person whose presence let him to lower his guard.

“then how about this, kiss me first then you tell me if you taste any alcohol or not.” it was a daring move, but it was a needed push. alhaitham wanted to refuse, probably, although that thought went away as quick as it came when your hand came in contact with his cheek, bringing his face close to you. “make sure to taste it, alright?” you whispered, then leaned in.

the kiss was intended to be short and sweet, however you’ve underestimated your own desire to have this man’s lips against yours. his kiss quickly became intense, yet it’s still gentle. with one last peck you parted, “how about it?” you asked. “not terrible.” he said curtly, the last ounce of composure he had manage to reply. but it clearly betrayed the pleasant expression he had on his face completely.

you raised an eyebrow, implying that clearly, it was not what you asked. haitham stared at you and a realization hit him, perhaps pretty hard since he decided to rest his gaze elsewhere but on you. “no alcohol.” he confirmed.

“so, not terrible huh? i thought it was pretty amazing.” you teased, peering at him. he clicked his tongue, still a bit flustered. “stop teasing.” he sighed.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.” you confessed, the night breeze freshened your head a little. haitham was having a hard time believing that. “and this is coming from someone who’s so adamant in saying that you’re a friend?”

“yes, and that’s coming from someone whose face always becomes strange when i said it? tonight was for that, if you had refused to kiss me then that’s that.” you said. “i don’t think i could ever resist you.” he said honestly. his bluntness made your heart skip a beat.

“well next time, we’ll just have to do it in a better place and time.” you smiled, “next time, huh?” he pondered, this time he put his hands on either side of your waist bringing you close. he stole another kiss. “can we just do it whenever?” another kiss.

“can’t get enough?” you teased. “never.” he replied. you tangled your hand to his grey locks, bringing him close for another kiss yet again. fortunately it was way past midnight and you were both at the darker side of the road which would be no matter since it’s pretty much empty.

you both pulled away.

“not a really terrible drinking buddy anymore, don’t you think?”

[abyislan08]

genshin men when you fall asleep on the couch

a/n: tiktok is gone, locked into writing again

alhaitham

alhaitham knew this would happen. even when you insisted that you “wouldn’t fall asleep this time” and told him you would “stay awake the entire time,” alhaitham just knew you’d end up asleep by the second act. and tonight, it’s even earlier than that.

not even a half hour into the movie you’re fully asleep, snoring lightly and—even though you insist that you don’t—drooling ever so slightly.

“[name],” he says, shifting ever so slightly. you’re leaning on him in what he can only guess is an uncomfortable position, but you don’t budge.

“i’m not… asleep…” you murmur, moving slightly, but only to get closer to him. if the lights were on, and if you were awake, you would see him blush slightly. you’ve been dating for a while now, and still this gets to him.

he nudges you and coaxes you again, to no avail. you’ve fallen to dreamland, and it didn’t even take thirty minutes.

alhaitham sighs and clicks off the tv. the movie wasn’t very good anyways; maybe you were right to snooze through it. he turns his attention back to you, and just like all those other nights you’ve fallen asleep on the couch during a movie, he gently lifts you into his arms and carries you back to the bedroom.

“i’m… awake,” you say as he lays you down.

“sure you are,” alhaitham says. “and i’m a cat.”

“are you?” you ask, straightening yourself slightly and opening your eyes.

alhaitham fights the urge to laugh and lets out a quiet chuckle.

“no, of course not.” he watches as you physically relax, your eyes becoming glazed with sleep once more.

“good…” you say, turning over. alhaitham opens his mouth to say something else, but quickly closes it once he realizes your asleep once more.

he sighs and whispers a quiet, “good night, [name],” before getting into bed himself.

tomorrow morning, you’ll tell alhaitham you dreamed of him as a cat and that you jokingly prefer his prickly self as such, and he’ll have to fight the urge to tell you that yes, you indeed drool when you fall asleep once the couch.

neuvillette

neuvillette didn’t know this would happen. of course, he liked it when you waited for him on his especially late nights working, though he never expected nor demanded it. and he was always pleasantly suprised when you were awake to greet him when he got home.

but tonight, on a late night, so late it’s the early morning, he thought you would be sleeping at this hour. and you are… just not where he expected you to be.

when neuvillette opened the door to your shared residence, he was suprised to see you laying on the couch, tucked under a blanket, likely having tried to stay up to wait for his arrival. immediately neuvillette is crouched down next to you, wiping away a rouge strand of your hair from face, gently whispering your name.

“[name]? i’m home now,” he says.

you don’t wake, though. you instead lean towards him, subconsciously wanting to be closer. neuvillette smiles down at you, touched and charmed. even in your sleep you’re able to make him blush like the first day he met you.

but this is no place for you to be sleeping. if you stay here for any longer, you’ll have neck and back pain tomorrow, and neuvillette simply does not want that for you. so he goes to dutifully pick you up, but when he does, you let out a sound of protest.

he adjusts and tries again, to which you murmur in your sleep, “i don’t… want to move…”

“hmm? and why’s that?” neuvillette asks, half amused, half concerned.

you don’t answer for a second, but then reply, “i’m… waiting for my husband… so i can’t move.”

“but he’s here,” neuvillette says. this, unlike his previous message, falls on sleeping, unhearing eyes. he tries again, “[name]…”

“i’m staying… here…” you reply, your face turning cross even in your sleep. neuvillette sighs and realized he won’t be winning this war; you’re much more stubborn in sleep than you are when awake.

so he reigns himself. heads to the bedroom—but not to sleep, oh no. he grabs a blanket, and a pillow, and comes back to the living room. he takes up residence right next you; the cold hard floor is his mattress for tonight. it’s terribly uncomfortable, but his comfort is a cheap price to pay to be close to someone who even in sleep cares for him.

(neuvillette will remind himself this tomorrow morning, when you inevitably accidentally step on him when you wake up.)

childe

childe wanted this to happen. well, no, not really. but that’s what he told you in the midst of a heated fight, and you can’t just take words like those back so easily, now can you?

it started out as what should have been a spat, really. but you and him were both already stressed about others things and a slight disagreement evolved into what is now a not-speaking, not-currently happy, dynamic. at the end of the fight, you proclaimed you were sleeping on the couch, and childe, not believing you, told you to do just that.

so that’s what you did. you marched into your shared bedroom, grabbed only a pillow, and marched past childe, still lingering in the living room, and set up camp on the couch. he scoffed and left the room, thinking you’d be back later, when your and his wrath both died down.

but, as childe reads the clock at 2 am, he realizes that isn’t what’s going to happen. and an hour later at 3 am, childe realizes that really is not what is going to happen.

part of him wants to let you sleep in solitude, if only at vice of his own stubborn streak, but the other half knows better. this other half that cherishes you won’t let him fall asleep like this, when you’re really so upset that you’d rather sleep in another room than be with him.

“[name]?” childe calls as he heads towards the living room. he tries again to no answer. he wonders if you might be giving him the silent treatment, but when he sees you fast asleep on the couch, that particular worry melts away—only to be replaced by a new one seconds later.

you didn’t even grab a blanket. yes you’re asleep and look peaceful now, but childe knows that’s not it. there’s a particular crease between your brows that gives away your state, that your worried and likely cold; childe knows your tells like the back of his own hand.

guilt instantly rushed over him. really, it was just a trivial matter, not even worth this fight. he should have tried to stop you earlier. childe sighs and crouchs down next to you.

“[name]?” he asks again, more gently this time.

you don’t respond, and childe tries one more time, before sighing and standing up. it is this that causes you to stir, makes you reach out towards him with a faint, “don’t go,” mumbled in your sleep.

childe doesn’t listen. he gently redirects yout hands and heads back to the bedroom. your subconscious must detect this, because you’re awake now, albeit drowsy and weary, confused if his presence just now was a dream, a fleeting memory.

that’s the state childe finds you in when he returns, wide eyed and tired and confused, with a blanket in hand. you turn towards him, regaining some of conciousness, but childe gently eases you back down as he drapes the blanket over you. your body relaxes at the new found heat, and you whisper a small, “i’m sorry.”

“me too,” childe says, and knowing you’re both tired and you’re again seconds away from sleep, he continues, “we can talk in the morning. you go back to sleep.”

“you’ll stay?” you ask, sleepiness taking over.

childe nods, meaning it, and that’s enough for you, as you close your eyes. and this time, when you fall back asleep, there’s no crease in your brow, a slight, so slight, smile on your face. and childe keeps his word; you’ll find him asleep in the same kneeling position next to you tomorrow, when the day is fresh, and you can start anew.

[abyislan08]

grief recognises grief

[abyislan08]

I know everyone sees Itto as Genshin's comedic relief, but I'm telling you all, Alhaitham is actually the funniest character in Genshin Impact.

According to the fandom, he's hot, he's famous, he's the one in charge of the house...

But according to the people of Sumeru? Dude became grand sage and not a single NPC around the city had a thing to say about that. Sachin's son got his ass beat and he didn't even know who Alhaitham was; it was just "some guy in green." People on the streets are said to not even notice Alhaitham, let alone be able to identify him by appearance. The only time we ever hear NPCs directly commenting on Alhaitham, it's Siraj's collective who hate Alhaitham's guts. Dori refuses to work with him. Random Eremites call him a lunatic within two minutes of meeting him.

Alhaitham's reputation in Sumeru is "Who? Ah, that guy? I heard he's weird," and then everyone moves on.

Meanwhile, Kaveh is literally famous enough to have an epithet ("the Light of Kshahrewar"), is the lead architect on entire city redesigns, and was trusted before Alhaitham's take over to do work on the Akademiya itself. He built the most famous landmark in the rainforest outside of the Divine Tree. He's well-known enough that people bank on his reputation to start scams; people send their children to take courses with him in the belief that it will bless them with successful future careers. He's known for philanthropic endeavors to help the poor and disadvantaged. He won the Interdarshan Championship. This is the Sumeru equivalent of winning an Olympic gold medal!!

Kaveh is the Taylor Swift to Alhaitham's Travis Kelce. They might have independent success, but in every measurement of public sentiment, Kaveh vastly outshines Alhaitham, and the fandom should really take a step back and think about how hilarious this makes everything about their situation in canon.

For the few in Sumeru who are actually paying attention, sure, Alhaitham is the (former) acting grand sage who makes a pretty penny and owns the house Kaveh lives in. For the average majority of Sumeru's citizens who are way more likely to know Kaveh? Alhaitham is literally just "that guy who is shacked up with the Light of Kshahrewar."

Kaveh's efforts to keep where he lives a secret just makes him come across like one of those reclusive types of artists who value their privacy. Half the public in Sumeru probably think he just prefers to keep himself and his lover out of the limelight. Kaveh was so busy pretending not to be poor, he forgot that every ounce of pretending he does just helps him keep his own celebrity status. The harder he attempts to act secretive about where he lives and with whom, the more it comes across as "Please respect this famous person's privacy and stop asking about the details of his relationship."

And Alhaitham, for whom being "that guy who is shacked up with the Light of Kshahrewar" is THE life goal? Everything is going according to keikaku. Kaveh has convinced the entirety of Sumeru that he and Alhaitham are in a relationship, all without Alhaitham having to lift a finger. The more determined Alhaitham gets to fly under the radar, the more it looks like he's Kaveh's kept man. If you aren't living with him because you're broke, then why are you living with him, Kaveh? There's simply no way for Alhaitham to lose.

It's just... so funny.

[abyislan08]

PICK YOUR DOMESTIC HUSBAND 🛒

WHICH HUSBAND IS ON THE DOMESTICITY MENU TODAY?

featuring: diluc, alhaitham, zhongli, wriothesley, neuvillette.

synopsis: glimpses into married life with the genshin men.

warnings: implied fem!reader, occasional pet names, ooc (I have a sparse idea how diluc works, mention of "activities" (just mention I can't write smut pls), silly goofy ah loser coded men, mild swearing (damn, heck)

a/n: *stretching my back and crunching my neck.* I'm back from the dead. apologies for the choppy writing. thanks for the support on the other posts, if only I could write 50-page essays thanking everyone. <33 :')) not proofread.

DILUC 🍷

PRODUCT NAME: BREAKFAST AND KISSES IN BED. Diluc always hated the Knights of Favonius… 

He hated how most of them just stand around like buffoons and do not partake in any actual work that involves saving Mondstadt. He wouldn’t admit that he enjoys playing Batman. He hated them all except for one.

One he was willing to forgive all flaws of. "Knight of Favonius…always so inefficient,”  He scoffed at the pathetic sight of the hilichurls trying to dry roast a few knights roped to a wooden stick for their dinner. “Seriously, You’re so right Master Diluc.” Diluc’s head turned so fast at the sound of a new voice. When did you get here? Were you always there and how did he not sense you around?

That’s simply how you always were. A hard worker amidst slackers – he always termed despite Jean trying to explain that others work hard too. Perhaps that’s what caught his attention, honestly, he would never know what did. “G’morning…” He murmured against your skin, head buried in the crook of your neck, your flushed bare back pressed against him. “5 more minutes…” he heard your soft and groggy voice evoking a chuckle from the usually passive man. “Have I ever told you…how beautiful you are?” Diluc muttered against your skin. You smiled and turned around, “You always do. I remember my Dark-Knight Hero crying at the altar.” You pressed a finger against his chest, while he scoffed at the memory. “Don’t remind me about that, Kaeya doesn’t let me live that down…” He sighed, his brother consistently brought up the matter of him crying whenever he was losing an argument. Foul play if you ask anyone. “So…breakfast downstairs or in the bed?” He planted a kiss on your cheek while you hummed out a response, “Bed, you didn’t exactly go easy on me the previous night.” You recalled the events of the passionate night the day before. The honeymoon phase never seemed to end. “I am so sorry–” He panicked,” You're not in pain are you? I promise I’ll be gentle– I knew I should’ve been more considerat–” You stopped him by pressing a kiss against his lips. He groaned at the feeling of your soft lips touching his hands tangling themselves in your hair.

“I’m kidding silly… you should stop taking things so seriously unless you want me to start searching for grey hairs amidst those red locks of yours.” You snickered out seeing him release a breath of relief.

If the Darknight Hero really does exist, he's probably just someone in disguise. When he gets up in the morning to brush his teeth, it's the real him. He was his real him in front of you. People may call him a loser for such vulnerability…he was a loser for you.

ALHAITHAM 🌱

PRODUCT NAME: READING BOOKS OUT LOUD. One would say married to someone like Alhaitham was nothing short of a nightmare. They weren't 100% right. Shrouded beneath the aloof and meticulous personality resided someone who was in complete denial towards being loved. He loves it.

Who was he kidding? Nobody in a million years thought someone could put up with his insufferable personality — said Kaveh, his unpaying tenant. That was until he ran into you during his time as the newly appointed Scribe. You were like a painter, splashing heaps of paint in his 90s black-and-white life. Was eating ice cream always this enjoyable or was it because it was with you? Was the gossip between co-workers always this interesting or was it because it included you?

Why was his heart having an entire Queen’s rock and roll concert talking to you? Was it cardiac arrest or– He almost shuddered at the thought of it being what they called love.

“You’ve got flour on your face, sweetheart.” His teal eyes blinked amusingly into yours, a faint smile curling up his lips. You must have saved a nation in your previous life to land this man as your husband. Beige shirt perfectly sculpting around his abs – contrary to him calling himself “feeble,” hair slightly tousled and slight sleepiness in his eyes. He might not act like it but he was a little child whose needs had to be tended to like the coffee mug in his hands which you made, like usual. You wouldn’t want a cranky Alhaitham now, would you? “Hmpf, not my fault, this cooking book is completely bogus!” You rubbed your cheeks with the back of your hand, wiping away any remaining flour. “This is so boring…if only someone could provide their poor wife with some entertainment.” You always resorted to theatrics to get him to do things for you, albeit begrudgingly. “No, the same tactic is not going to work again.” “Please…” “No…” He groaned, tone almost pleading not to put him through the torture again. “During better or worse!” You resorted to the ace up to your sleeve. WEDDING VOWS! “Stop quoting the wedding vows.” He sighed in defeat. The most intellectually gifted man in the nation couldn't win against his own wife. Ironical. He got up and grabbed a book out of the bookshelf; a small fraction of his much larger library.

“Miss Elizabeth,” Alhaitham lazily flipped through the pages earning a rebuke. “More emotion! You are ruining the scene.” Alhaitham sighed and cleared his throat, “I love you most ardently…” His tone was feathery soft, emotion surging in it. A smile crept up as he stared at you endearingly.

“That’s much better. Though I seriously think Mr Darcy should’ve said– Miss Elizabeth, allow me to kiseth thy lovely lips.” You mimicked the deep voice of the character with the failing British accent. “Please have mercy on Jane Austen’s ghost and let her enjoy the afterlife.” Alhaitham chuckled and continued reading as you continued baking.  It was a shame that a man of such talent only paid attention to the truth itself and not to the people around him. If only the searching eyes of the ordinary say the exception to his indifference, you.

This was your biosphere, just you, him, novels and food encapsulated inside your small home.

ZHONGLI 🪨

PRODUCT NAME: ALWAYS ON HIS MIND. What is the best but the most useless flex you have? Being married to the Geo Archon. The inability to just tell the whole world that you are married to the frigging god was painful. You yourself were surprised by your ability to control yourself. Zhongli was a man of carefully curated words. Instead of words, straight-up poetry flew out of his mouth. Everyone knew how much he adored his wife, every vendor, every acquaintance, heck even Venti. Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's mysterious consultant. Handsome, elegant, and surpassingly learned. Excellent memory. A master of courtesy and rules. The amount of poor women who have tried to grab his attention. "Mr.Zhongli, how does this look?" the woman, who he remembered meeting over a history discussion 17 days ago. "Hm?" his amber eyes shifted to gaze at the hairpiece the lady was holding. "Most exquisite.." He remarked, seemingly going into deep thought. Instead of a compliment, he said something that made the woman back away, "Such beautiful craftsmanship...may I ask you to tell me where you found this? I wish to buy one for my wife–" he paused, seeing the lady vanished after pointing at the shop where she got it from. "Zhongli, you should be able to tell why people approach you..." Hutao sighed, standing beside the rather oblivious gentleman. "Let's just continue...we've got customers to find!" Hutao started walking alongside the railing, hoping to find people in need of funeral services. "Maybe we should go and ask peopl– Zhongli??" Hutao looked around for the Consultant, who was caught up chatting with a shopkeeper over some earrings. "Zhongli!" Hutao called out to him, causing his head to turn towards the director. "Oh, apologies...It seems I got too carried away. These earrings caught my eye...I'm sure [Name} would love them.." he mumbled, staring at the jewellery. "I'll take them." "Mister Zhongli? What about the payment..." The shopkeeper meekly asked, causing Zhongli to turn his head fully at Hutao; gazing expectantly. Hutao should've expected this... "Zhongli, we are out here to find customers! Not buying gifts for [Name], her birthday is months away!" "They say the best things should be done first. After all, why must I wait for one specific day to express my love for my beloved?" Zhongli asked curiously and Hutao shaked her head; love was clearly out of her expertise. Zhongli, he is particular about everything. He only attended the best operas and focused on the perfect ratio for the creation of an authentic dish.  On a typical day, all you will glean from him is a few pieces of useless trivia, because he particularly enjoys sharing these fun tidbits with you. He was particular about you and your likings. A smile on your face was what he wanted by the end of the day. For being someone alive for 6000 years, he could proudly say that he loved and cherished something– someone.

"Wait here, Director Hu...Perhaps I should get those flowers over there to accompany the hairpin and earrings..."

WRIOTHESLEY 🐺

PRODUCT NAME: BATTLE TO BUY A DOG OR NOT.

"Wriothesley, I want a dog!" You crossed your arms, staring down at the Duke who was glued to the chair in his office. “But why? That’s just unnecessary responsibility…” Wriothesley sighed, rubbing his temples. This was the 3rd time this month you’ve brought up this topic. Was he that incompetent in terms of filling his role as your significant other? Perhaps not with the never-ending paperwork. Oh, how he wished people would just stop committing crimes. “I get lonely in the Fortress…I want a child.” You put forth your point by using the term ’ child’. Child, dog same thing. You hoped to finally convince him this time.

“We have Sigewinne.” Wriothesley pointed at the head nurse prepping tea in the room with the back of his pen. “I am sorry, Your Grace but playing the role of the child is out of my job description.” The Melusine replied indifferently, pouring freshly seeped tea into the three cups. “Fine, we will go get one…I’ll schedule a meeting with the owner of the pet shelter. Happy?” He asked you, chin resting on his palm. Perhaps getting a dog was a good idea as he was guilty of being unable to spend quality time with you… “No way…” “Isn’t that..?” “The Duke of the Meropide–” “He rarely appears in public..” Wriothesley held out the door to the shelter for you, hoping you would go in and it would finally save him from the gaze of curious onlookers. The two of you walked in, only to be pounced upon by a big dog. “Kal! You sly dog! I knew I shouldn’t have let you out!” The caretaker yelled at the big ball of black fur who had tackled Wriothesley to the floor and was aggressively licking his face, tail wagging in delight. “Are you okay?” You asked your fallen husband, who just chuckled in response. “I am good just– Okay stop! I understand your gesture of love.” Wriothesley got up as the dog encircled him. “This one is so adorable…” you gasped at the cuteness radiating from the dog and its big brown eyes. “You’ve got a keen eye! This is Kal, Shiloh Shepard, one of the finest dogs out there.” The caretaker combed her fingers through the thick and groomed black coat of the canine. “He seems to have taken a liking to the Duke.” The caretaker continued as the dog ran back to Wriothesley, peppering his face with licks. “He even looks like you.” You teased as Wriothesley stared at you in disbelief. You did not just compare him to a dog…he even did a double take at the dog to confirm. “We will take this one then…” He chuckled in amusement. Never had he imagined marrying you and on top of that getting a four-legged beast. Needless to say, Wriothesley proudly walked out of the shelter, holding the big dog in his hands like a child. It felt complete ever since getting Kal; like your own little family. Wriothesley wouldn’t admit it but he loved the dog, despite it hogging all of your love and attention. He didn’t expect to be fighting over cuddling rights with a dog!? 

He watched you and Kal sleep peacefully on the couch, keeping him company while he finished up his work. He felt a sense of gratitude…people of the Fortress knew little of the crime he once committed. The only one who still remembers it like yesterday is Wriothesley himself. And no matter how much glory or repute he has earned, he still considers himself to be the same old Wriothesley he's always known.Neither a good person nor a complete villain. He's just another soul, still living on in this world. However, your eyes always reassured him in ways he couldn’t describe. Everything was perfect…

[Name]!! YOURDAMN DOG PISSED ON MY COAT!! Maybe not that perfect…whoops.

NEUVILLETTE 🌊

PRODUCT NAME: HELPING THE OTHER DRESS.

Monsieur Neuvillette, The Iudex of Fontaine, always wondered how his life had come to this. 500 years of serving his position as the Beacon of Justice, a lovely, beaming baker somehow broke the monotony. Well, calling you just a baker was now an insult. With your ring finger bejewelled, with one of the rarest gems– an ode to his undying loyalty and representation of his eternal love. “It’s astounding how a covert mission conducted by melusines could’ve landed someone such as myself a lady like her…” He muttered to himself, seeing his full form in the mirror. “Talking to yourself, again?” You leaned against the door frame, lopsidedly smiling at the peculiar antics of Fontaine’s most distinguished man. “Ah, apologies…I didn’t think you would notice me conversing with myself. Now I find myself in a rather awkward predicament.” He chuckled. Dear god, this man was so beautiful that his beauty was almost blinding with the morning sun perfectly hitting his face.

“Say ah,” You requested and he complied. Who better to take constructive criticism from other than your husband? “New filling?” He covered his mouth while chewing on the croissant. “Yup, how is it? I was experimenting with some Rainbow Roses and these Inazuman berries I bought.” You blinked curiously, waiting for some input. “Hmm it is very pleasant, it is fascinating how you manage to maintain the freshness of the fruit…” You smiled at his compliment, before noticing him struggling with the jabot around his neck. “Need help?” You offered and he nodded his head. “This is absurd..it usually isn’t this difficult.” He frustrated replied, it was amusing to see the cool and collected man all worked up about clothing. “I suggest simplifying your outfit.” You attached the jabot and secured it in with the teardrop brooch, fixing the ruffles. 

“Thank you. I do prefer my outfit as it conveys the message I wish for it to convey.” He explained before staring at you. You knew that look, he looked at you with his eyebrows slightly creased when he was hesitating from saying something. “What is it?” “Do I get a goodbye kiss before I leave?” “Pfft! I didn’t think you would take that seriously!” Conclusion: this man was wayyy to cute.

Neuvillette is a solitary person. Neuvillette is not known for his personal desires.

He was deemed as someone with unassailable impartiality. If only they knew that perhaps the Iudex was just a wee bit biased.

a/n 2.0: the crust will come off...hopefully. i wonder if it's possible to guess which one of them is my favourite??

don't steal, copy, plagiarise, or translate.

©definitelysel

[abyislan08]

"are you crying?" little 10 year old al-haitham says, in a bored voice. it's clear that he's just asking for the sake of asking – of checking up on you, the little boy is so ready to dive back into his books.

"n-no! i'm not... i promise."

"okay then. i'll go back to my books."

he feels the guilt pooling at the bottom of his stomach – there is something that feels innately wrong, leaving you on the playroom floor with a probably still-bleeding scratch – but he takes your words at face value.

you're fine.

"are you crying?" a much older al-haitham lifts your chin up by his thumb – your glassy tear-streaked face betrayed by the salty tears running down with their own will.

he thumbs your tears away with such gentleness that makes you think that he's making up for all the times little al-haitham had been so callous about your little self's tears.

"no! i'm not... i promise."

"you do realise that it's alright to cry?" your lover sighs, grabbing a tissue and dabbing the glistening tears away.

"uh-huh."

you're not fine – you love to say that you are, anyways. it's easier to brush the lamentable sadness away when your smile feels easier to put on.

"you can stop lying now, you know."

"i'm not crying!"

al-haitham just shakes his head and gathers you in his arms, placing a sweet kiss to your forehead; a subtle nod to a fate well learnt. you will always say that you're fine, crumbling to pieces . . . but don't worry. he'll always be there to help put you back together.

[abyislan08]

going out of your way to search up [insert character] ANGST and all you get is smut

[abyislan08]

Tell Me You Love Me

summary : your love for alhaitham is endless, and you make sure to express that verbally; alhaitham makes sure his affections reaches you as well

contains : alhaitham believes in 'actions speak louder than words' ; pre-established relationship ; fluff ; gn!reader, this drabble is written in second person

word count : 800

The candle by your bedside is close to running out when Alhaitham appears through the door. Eyes drooping and a yawn slipping out, the bed dips under his weight as he joins your side. You smile softly as he snuggles in, resting his forehead on your shoulder, his eyes fluttering shut instantly.

"Long day?" You whisper, raising a hand to brush through his hair. You receive a sleepy hum for a response as you pull the blanket over him. "Rest well then."

You can feel his breathing slow as sleep comes over him. It's rather endearing, watching him melt in your embrace, relax to your warmth. Oh, you loved him dearly. And you had no qualms to saying it out loud.

"I love you," you say, a gentle whisper as you lay a soft kiss against his forehead. You would repeat those words for him over and over again until the whole world knew. You would let those words echo through your shared house, letting its warmth fan the fire of the hearth, allowing your abode flourish in the warmth of a home.

And you were sure he heard you, as you felt his hand brush against yours, his index finger curling around yours, wrapping your finger in a gentle, yet firm, hold.

The sky remained hidden behind large, fluffy grey clouds, indicating the rain that would soon fall on Sumeru City. It made sense then of the people rushing back into the shelter of their homes before they get caught in the upcoming downpour.

You simply smiled at the idea of a cozy evening. You paused in your tracks, however, as you caught the whiff of flowers. Turning around, you catch glimpse a flower vender, packing up their stall as the other merchants did.

You returned home, grinning brightly despite the light scoldings of the elderly flower vender who was rushing to return home.

"I'm home!" You chirp in a sing-song. And ah, the sight of your beloved welcoming you back with a warm smile.

You thrust the flowers into Alhaitham's hand, feeling absolutely gleeful at the surprise flashing across his face. His widened eyes, momentary gaping melting into a smile as he recognizes the bouquet of flowers to be the same as the first gift you had given him at the start of your love story.

"I have something for you too," he says in a soft whisper before disappearing into your shared bedroom before returning with another bouquet of flowers in hand. Ah, seems he must have encountered the flower vendor on his way home as well.

His gaze remains on you as you laugh at the coincidence, his eyes honeyed with endearment and softened with amusement.

Oh and his silent laugh as you jumped into his arms, hugging him tight.

"I love you."

You were sure you found your heaven on earth.

You love your off days. Not only did you get to sleep peacefully until the sunlight seeping in through the curtains slowly awake you, but you get to enjoy the sight of your sleepy beloved. The whispered 'good morning's as you take each other in an embrace, snuggling until late in the morning, that joy was unparalleled.

Preparing meals together, snuggling on the couch as one napped and the other read, random chit-chat about some curious thing that happened at work throughout the week; these were all simple moments, but things you yearned for when you had to be apart because of work.

You enjoy watching the sunset with Alhaitham, sitting down on the ground, surrounded by the smell of the grass and dirt. Waiting until the moon rose high as you listened to him narrate bits of poetry in languages you could only dream of learning.

As you worked around in the kitchen with him, preparing dinner, you smiled contentedly.

"I love you," you mummer.

A soft kiss lands atop your head as Alhaitham continues to work around you, leaving you grinning brighter than ever.

"I love you lots," you say amidst your soft chuckles.

"I love you too," Alhaitham smiles back. "More than words could ever express."

"Really?" You cock an eyebrow playfully, not bothering to hide how his words made you soar over the moon.

"Really," he says, not minding your playfulness. "I could use all the words I know, speak all the languages I can, and it still wouldn't suffice to express what you make me feel, how happy you make me."

Alhaitham turns towards you, devoting his utmost attention to you. "Your laugh, your smile, your voice, your eyes, they will always be more beautiful than any language, any poetry that the world has to offer. You are the language I love most, and the only one I want to remain fluent in until my time runs out."

a/n : I previously wrote this drabble (a quiet love) for alhaitham and enjoyed writing it a lot, so I wanted to write more for him (I'm definitely not biased.... okay maybe a tiny bit hehe—); but yeah, I really like the idea of alhaitham following the 'actions speaks louder than words' if it wasn't already obvious

→ this fic was the (3+1) kinda type, or well, I had that in mind when writing it; dunno if it was noticeable or not lmao

p/s : now that my senior year of highschool started, I might be a bit irregular at posting (not that I actually wrote consistently before—), but I don't have too hard courses this semester, so who knows I actually might be a tiny bit consistent; but yeah you get the point right?

[abyislan08]

“As per new routine”

Alhaitham x Reader

Words: 870

Google Docs Pages: 1,5

Warnings: established relationship, fluff, no angst no hurt?! That's a new one for me :”D Bedtime sillies, sleepy cuddles. Written by someone awake at 3am, proofread by the same person awake at 2am. Mistake prone, I’d say. (At the very least, I tend to repeat myself when tired :"D)

Opening: Coming back from work rather late, only to find him waiting for you. 

AN// G/n reader. Eeh, this is again gonna be one of those fanfics I thought of writing and then remembered I’ve never written for said character nor do I plan on doing so in the future. But I felt like this was needed, even if this is shorter than what I usually make :”D

“As per new routine”

Getting home late had become a little more usual than in the past. But that was merely due to the amount of work coming in recently, and by no means would this continue on for forever. But what it did entail was a change in your usual routine, which meant it also affected Alhaitham’s. Though, so far you hadn’t even gotten him to mention your late appearances back home. 

So as per routine, you arrived back home late. Tiredly attempting to make your way in quietly, expecting that Alhaitham would have been asleep by now. Kaveh on the other hand was most likely still awake, pulling an all-nighter with his projects. So he wasn’t exactly a worry you had. 

Sneaking carefully further, abandoning your bag by one of the couches. Not bothered to start undoing its contents so late in the night. Having already left your shoes by the door, you start making your way towards the bedroom. Combing your hair out with your hand, an attempt to ease the exhaustion and slight stress of the day. Opening a few buttons from your shirt while at it, ready to hit the hay as soon as possible. Knowing there was going to be yet another long day awaiting tomorrow. So every minute of sleep counted for something. 

Attempting to quietly open the bedroom door was for no use. Seeing as even to your surprise, Alhaitham was awake, calmly reading a book on his side of the bed. It wasn’t the book that surprised you, but the fact that he’d seemingly stayed awake because of you. Alhaitham on the other hand didn’t seem fazed, barely even reacting to your arrival. Only turning a page of the book, “you worked later than usual.” A calm comment breaking the silence right after. His eyes still calmly scanning the pages, not having even looked up. 

Any initial surprise disappeared, finding it almost funny how you’d initially claimed this as odd. But the more you sat on it, the more it seemed in character for him to do. Alhaitham had just seemingly stayed up and waited for you, he just hadn’t bothered to do so the previous times.

Making your way to your side of the bed and sitting down, you took a moment before answering him. “I had to catch up on a few things,” you stated calmly. Not mentioning anything of your previous surprise of his behaviour. Knowing it hadn’t been because he was worried about your absence, he knew you were going to come back. Even if later than usual. 

“You’re running a better schedule than he is,” Alhaitham commented. Eyeing the direction of the hallway, not having to guess he was insinuating at Kaveh. His comment gaining an amused hum from you, in truth being exhausted enough to not have the energy for unnecessary comments. Especially if it had to do with their silly banter, as much as you liked to watch it go down usually.

And you suspected that Alhaitham noticed that, dropping the topic as a comfortable silence fell between the two of you. Allowing you some time to change into something a little more comfortable to sleep in. Buf after getting that done, your gaze landed on the nightstand. Realising that you’d forgotten to get a glass of water before making your way to the bedroom. Having been in such a hurry to get some sleep. 

Your eyes moved to Alhaitham’s side, noticing the glass he had. Not saying anything, you reached over him for the glass. Getting a slight grunt from him for blocking the view of his book. In the end not even being able to reach the glass itself. 

He closed the book, gently pushing you back and while placing the book back on the nightstand, handing you the glass. While also giving you a look, insinuating that you could have just asked him for it. For which you allowed him a chuckle. 

“You don’t need to make this a habit, you know?” You commented, taking a sip of the water. Noting how it was still rather cold. “Waiting for me, I mean,” you added while handing back the glass. 

You’d somehow gotten used to how low maintenance your relationship with him was. So seeing him pay attention to you coming home later than usual, all of a sudden felt odd. But there was something endearing about it as well. 

“I wasn’t going to. I was only seeing when it was you’d started coming back.” Alhaitham answered. And of course he had known of your recent habit of coming home later than usual. Even when you’d made sure to check that he’d been asleep each time you’d done so. 

“Did you get an answer?” You asked calmly while getting under the covers. “Yes,” he answers with a reciprocating tone, copying your movements. 

There was a comfortable silence for a moment as the two of you lay still. Before you turned to face him, inching closer. He allowed it, like always. The feeling of him making space for you familiar, as you settled against him. Sleep overtaking your tired form rather quickly, breathing in his familiar scent. Not having the time to notice his arm placing itself loosely on your waist. 

[abyislan08]

ɢᴇɴꜱʜɪɴ ɪᴍᴘᴀᴄᴛ // fic recs

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works

wriothesley

want some tea? shared dreams, blossoming hearts his sudden favoritism no touching for you, i'd steal the stars. oh, the man he is... doctor's note

al haitham

of spices and parchments drunk confessions a shoulder to cry on one second dream a little dream of me? the misadventures of a scribe, howl's distant cousin, your poor soul: oh my archons they were housemates! i visited idiot street and everyone knew your name! father cupid

kazuha

slow dance two points of view destined parting what the wind brings time and fallen leaves meet me at our spot snowy horizons morning angel

neuvillette

retrouve-moi dans le jardin à minuit i thought the world would be black and white, (it's golden) to lie, to lose raindrop a chocolate secret poetry vient la douleur

[abyislan08]

wow….im speechless

𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 . . .

“you’re never a bother, sweetheart. never. you’re the love of my life, my beloved wife. i want you to come to me, to lean on me. i want to help you, to support you through anything you’re going through. that’s my job as your lover. as your husband.”

diluc ragnvindr x fem. reader — sfw. ♡ hurt/comfort ノ established relationship ノ reader has depression & anxiety ノ insecurities ノ fear of abandonment ノ implied trauma ノ implied sh ノ suicidal ideation ノ mention of meds (unspecified) ノ reader has long nails & scars (unspecified) ノ non-sexual intimacy (tender body worship) ノ lots of reassurance ノ endearments: love, sweetheart, darling, wife, good/pretty girl ノ very self indulgent. wc: 11.5k

a/n: not too proud of this.. feel like it could've been better. i didn't intend to make this so long but i suppose i got carried away with the comfort. this fic is based off of me so please be kind, thank you /ᐠ◞⸝⸝◟ ྀིマ

"love?" diluc's voice called out softly, cutting through the evening stillness.

it was eight o'clock when diluc finally returned home, weary from a long day of managing the tavern and negotiating with business partners. he had looked forward to this moment all day, for the chance to unwind in your presence, to wrap you in his arms and hear the soothing melody of your voice.

you had occupied his thoughts all day. no matter how busy he was, his mind would always drift back to you. he found himself counting down the minutes until he could see you again, constantly wondering what you were doing or if you had eaten.

he wouldn’t admit it, but he’d been caught an embarrassing number of times smiling to himself at work while thinking about you — most often by his brother ( who never missed an opportunity to tease him about it), unfortunately.

he’d imagine you curled up with a new novel, giggling in delight at some romantic passage, your darling laughter like music to his ears. or perhaps you were in the kitchen, trying out a new recipe, looking utterly adorable in your apron with flour dusting your cheeks. the mere thought of you brought a warmth to his heart and a smile to his lips, one that he couldn't quite hide even if he tried.

the mundane concerns of his day began to melt away, replaced by the simple, profound desire to be with his beloved wife. stepping through the threshold, he sought you out with eager eyes, longing to be with you once more.

but from the moment diluc pushed open the large oak door of the manor, he could immediately sense that something was off. it was eerily silent and the main floor lacked the warmth of your presence that he had grown so comfortable with.

every evening, you would wait by the door, ready to welcome him home with a smile and a sweet kiss. but tonight, the echo of his footsteps was the only sound that accompanied him as he walked through the entrance. his heartbeat quickened with worry, his mind racing with concerns for your safety.

where were you? did something happen?

it felt strange to proceed with his usual routine when such a vital part of it — your presence — was missing. diluc moved through the familiar motions almost mechanically, taking off his boots, removing his coat and hanging it up, all without the eager assistance of your gentle hands.

with a heavy sigh, he surveyed the first floor once more, his gaze searching for any trace of you amidst the empty rooms and silent corridors, half-expecting to find you waiting on the couch in front of the fireplace. however, his search proved fruitless as the feeling of emptiness in the manor remained.

he made his way upstairs, the wood of the stairs quietly creaking under his weight as his feet carried him to find the person his heart longed to be with most.

it was too early for you to have gone to sleep, he thought, so he headed to the manor’s library first, knowing it was one of your favorite spots to wind down, especially in the evenings. upon looking inside the room and finding your usual spot empty, a sense of urgency led him towards the bedroom.

opening the bedroom door, his heart clenched at the sight of you sitting in bed, exactly where he had left you that morning.

the memory of pressing a kiss to your forehead before he left for work flashed through his mind; when you had feigned sleep, not wanting to burden him with the truth of your restless nights and the exhaustion that clung to you.

his concern deepened as he stood in the doorway, observing you as the soft light from the lamp on the nightstand cast a gentle glow over your form. you looked fragile, like a delicate porcelain doll against the pillows, your eyes distant and clouded with fatigue.

he crossed the room in a few swift strides, his heart aching with the need to comfort you, to banish the weariness that plagued you.

while diluc was out working, the day had slipped by in a haze. you had only managed to leave the bed a few times in order to use the bathroom or to fetch more tissues to quell the tears that had flowed uncontrollably throughout the day. the hours had blurred together and at this point, you didn’t even know what time it was.

you hadn't eaten, nor had you even taken a sip of water since waking in the wee hours of the night, plagued by the belief that you didn't deserve such basic comforts.

the idea of satisfying your hunger — which had long since faded into nothingness — or quenching your thirst were easy to ignore compared to the ache in your heart. each pang of hunger, each parched breath, felt like a penance, a way to validate the guilt and despair that clouded your mind.

nothing seemed to serve as an adequate distraction. the hobbies that once brought you joy now felt like burdensome chores, draining what little energy you had left. your favorite books, once what you considered a magical escape, now lay untouched on the bookshelf. motivation eluded you, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand.

everything felt empty and meaningless.

just as crows strip a carcass down to the bone, guilt persistently gnawed at your mind, picking apart every thought and memory, leaving no peace unscathed. you felt terrible thinking about how, while your husband was out working hard to provide for you, you were just sitting at home, doing practically nothing as you awaited his return.

you truly were useless, weren’t you?

diluc had always told you that he wanted to spoil you, to provide a life filled with comfort and joy. the man who held your heart in his hands did so much for you, more than you felt you could ever repay.

every time you gazed around the room at the tokens of his affection, the thoughtful gifts, and the remnants of his care, a pang of unworthiness pierced your heart. he showered you with more love, care, and devotion than you felt you could ever deserve.

of course, you appreciated it all — the way he looked at you with those eyes full of love, the gentle touch of his hand on yours, the thoughtful surprises that brightened your days.

but beneath the surface, a constant current of doubt whispered that it was all a waste, that someone else could better appreciate his efforts, someone more deserving of his unwavering affection. even despite his assurances, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were undeserving of such adoration.

for the longest time, you felt like a waste of space, a waste of time, of air, of life. why were you even here? it was a question that had plagued you for what felt like forever, and you failed to come up with an answer no matter how many days or years you spent contemplating the thought.

you didn’t have a purpose, you didn't contribute anything significant to the world, nothing you ever did was meaningful.

what contribution could you possibly make, you mused bitterly, when every endeavor felt futile and every achievement seemed insignificant?

you felt like a mere bystander in the grand scheme of things, an annoying fly that was to be swatted away, an insignificant speck in the vast expanse of existence. your presence felt like an imposition, a burden on those around you, and the thought weighed heavily on your heart.

you felt utterly useless, worthless, and the sense of insignificance had grown unbearably strong — a relentless tide threatening to engulf you in its murky depths.

the only thing you found yourself looking forward to was the escape a deep sleep could offer. you longed for the bliss of unconsciousness, where the pain of existence could no longer reach you. to fall asleep and never wake up seemed like the only reprieve from the relentless storm raging within.

lost in your own head, you hadn’t even noticed when diluc called your name or approached you until you felt the dip of the bed beside you, accompanied by the comforting warmth of his hand atop yours.

your gaze was absent as it was fixed on the same page of the book that had held your attention for the past hour, though you hadn’t absorbed a single word.

it was only when diluc called your name again that you reluctantly tore your gaze away from the book. carefully taking the book out of your hands, he made sure to mark the page you were on before placing it on the nightstand.

"my love?" he reached out, his touch tender as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek.

when diluc first entered the bedroom and his keen gaze fell upon you, he had immediately sensed that something was amiss; but the dim look in your eyes as you looked up at him only confirmed his suspicions. it was a look he knew all too well, one that spoke of inner turmoil and pain that no words could adequately express.

being the patient man he was, diluc waited. he waited for the sweet greeting that never failed to warm his heart, for the soft press of your lips against his cheek that always left him yearning for more. he waited to see the sparkle in your eyes, to spot the adorable dimple that appeared when you smiled at him, a sight that never failed to bring him joy.

but as you kept silent, he realized that none of it would come.

part of him had expected you to move, if not to hug him, then at least to intertwine your fingers with has as you would do practically every time his large hand engulfed yours.

but your body remained motionless, save for the subtle tremble of your fingers. other than that, you had been still. too still, as if the slightest movement could scare him away.

(what a silly thought, considering that the very thing diluc, the man whose unwavering love and devotion knew no bounds, feared most was the prospect of being separated from you.)

after a brief, almost agonizing silence, you finally found your voice, though it sounded foreign even to your own ears. with deliberate effort, you strained your vocal cords, attempting to infuse your words with a hint of what you hoped would sound like cheeriness to mask the sadness you had been feeling.

“you’re back…”

the choice of words were borne from the depths of your subconscious, as if manifested by the fear that he would one day leave you and never come back.

"i'm back," diluc replied softly. he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “how are you, my love?”

you forced yourself to give him a smile, to appear happy because you truly were glad to see him despite the heaviness that weighed on your heart. though your lips curved upwards, your smile didn't quite reach your eyes, and he could easily see through your façade.

“’m fine,” was all you could offer, but he knew you were anything but. of course he knew. he knew you too well, knew the depths of your soul better than anyone else.

he didn’t need to ask to know that you weren’t feeling well; the man had a sixth sense for you. he had memorized every nuance of your being, every subtle shift in your demeanor, every little micro expression. he could sense the tension in your shoulders, the restless fidgeting of your fingers, the barely perceptible furrow of your brows.

before he could say anything to inquire about your mood, a knock at the door interrupted the moment. it was elzer, informing the young master that there was important paperwork that required his immediate attention.

diluc hesitated, his face contorting into a conflicted expression as he prepared to tell his butler that he would get to it later, wanting to prioritize you above all else. but before he could voice his decision, you spoke up

"it's okay. go, luc. i have to take a shower anyways."

your words were meant to reassure him, but you both knew they were a lie. you had bathed together just last night; there was no real need for you to bathe again so soon. still, you forced a smile and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, urging him to go even though every part of you wanted him to stay.

"really, it's fine."

(you didn’t want to hold him back. you already felt like you were doing that far too much.)

diluc's hand lingered on yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, hesitant to leave you alone. he wanted nothing more than to keep you company, to be there for you when you were clearly feeling down, but if there was one thing he knew about you after knowing you as intimately as he did after all these years, it was your fiercely independent nature.

you had never been one to lean on others, having navigated life's hardships mostly on your own. help was a foreign concept to you, something you had rarely received and thus, struggled to accept.

diluc understood that sometimes, you needed space and some time alone to process your emotions, and the last thing he wanted was to add more pressure to the weight already bearing down on your shoulders.

with a heavy heart, he reluctantly let go of your hand and rose from the bed. he bent down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment longer than usual.

"i’m sorry, love. i'll try to make it quick. when i'm done, we can cuddle, and if you’d like, i can read to you before bed as well, okay?" he whispered, gently caressing your hair.

after giving him a nod, diluc made his way to the door, turning back to look at you one last time before heading to his study to tend to the urgent paperwork elzer had mentioned.

you appreciated his understanding, his respect for your need for solitude, grateful that he never held it against you. it was one of the many reasons you loved him so deeply.

as he closed the door behind him, every fiber of your being desired to call out to him, to beg him to stay and hold you through the storm that raged inside you. but you remained silent, watching him go with a brave face, even as your soul cried out for him.

as diluc sat in his study, he could hardly focus on the paperwork before him. his mind was clouded with worry, every thought consumed by you. the quill in his hand felt heavy, the ink on the parchment blurring as his eyes kept drifting towards the door.

every fiber of his being yearned to return to the bedroom, to hold you in his arms and soothe your troubled heart. but he knew you needed time — time to process, to gather your thoughts, and to feel ready to share what weighed so heavily on your mind.

the study, usually a sanctuary of focus and productivity, felt suffocating tonight. the flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the room, but even the comforting familiarity of his study could not ease his anxiety. he ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts drifting back to the pained look in your eyes, the way your body seemed to fold in on itself as if trying to disappear. it tore at his heart, and he had never felt so helpless before.

with a sigh, he pushed the papers aside, leaning back in his chair. his gaze fell upon a small, framed photograph on his desk — one of the two of you, taken on a blissful day when your smiles were radiant and your laughter filled the air. he traced the outline of your face with his fingertip, longing to see that beautiful smile of yours once again.

you missed him terribly. it had only been ten minutes since he left, but your heart ached with a longing for his presence that felt almost unbearable.

but wouldn't it be selfish to disturb him while he was immersed in his important work, just because you wanted to see him? to feel his strong arms wrap around you, offering the comfort and warmth you craved? doubts gnawed at you. what right did you have to crave his affection after greeting him so gloomily when he returned home, weary from his long day?

your body ached from staying in place for so long, the stillness casting a heavy weight upon your limbs until they seemed to lose all sensation. you forced yourself to get up and a wave of dizziness engulfed you, disorienting your senses and causing your legs to quiver beneath the weight of your body.

you took a moment to find your balance before leaving the sanctuary of your bedroom, venturing into the dimly lit hallway as each tentative step brought you closer to diluc’s study.

when you finally reached the door, you paused, your knuckles reluctantly hovering above the polished wood, poised to knock but not daring to quite yet. for what felt like an eternity, you stood frozen in place, chained down like a hostage to your own doubt and regret.

perhaps you should just turn back, you thought. the last thing you wanted to do was disturb him. he was likely deeply immersed in important work and didn't need the distraction of your presence. a small, cruel voice in your head whispered that he probably didn't want to see you anyway; that your melancholic mood would only burden him and waste his time.

without even realizing, you had knocked on the door. it was as though your body had a will of its own, begging to bridge the distance between you and your beloved husband.

you stood there, heart pounding in anticipation before you were startled out of your stupor by the sound of diluc's deep voice resonating from behind the door.

"come in," he beckoned, his voice like a siren's song drawing you closer, a beacon of warmth and reassurance in the midst of your turmoil.

hesitantly, you grasped the doorknob with a shaky hand and pushed the door open, stepping into the study where the air was thick with the scent of parchment and wax, the only illumination coming from the flickering candles and flames dancing in the hearth.

you couldn’t go back now, not after making your presence known. it would only worry diluc even more if you had seeked him out and then left without a word.

the door felt as heavy as your heart as you held it open, quietly stepping inside. as you slipped through, the soft click of the door closing behind you echoed in the room, breaking the peaceful silence that enveloped diluc's study.

his gaze lifted from the papers scattered across his desk, locking onto you with a softness that threatened to make you crumble on the spot.

“i told you that you don’t need to knock, my love. you’re welcome to come in whenever you wish.”

your head hung low as you nodded meekly, inwardly berating yourself for causing him even the slightest inconvenience. “r-right, sorry…”

a furrow etched itself onto diluc's brow upon hearing you apologize for something so inconsequential. in one fluid motion, he pushed his chair back and rose from his seat. he made his way over to you, realizing you wouldn't approach him given that you were still standing hesitantly by the door, as if unsure of whether you were welcome or not.

"you have nothing to apologize for, my dear."

there he stood in front of you, so close yet seemingly so far away, his presence casting a magnetic pull that both drew you in and pushed you back.

you couldn't help but question why he bothered, especially after the dismal greeting you had offered him upon his return from a hard day of work.

a pang of guilt twisted in your chest as you recalled the dullness of your own voice, the weariness etched into your features when he first entered the bedroom. surely, he must have sensed the burden you carried, the weight of your troubles hanging heavy in the air like a storm on the horizon. you had wanted to get up, to smile and to give him a kiss, but your body just wouldn’t cooperate.

despite it all, he was standing in front of you, his eyes attentively searching yours for answers. in that moment, you couldn't help but wonder what it was that kept him tethered to you, even when you felt so undeserving of his love and attention.

you didn't dare to meet his gaze, your focus consumed by the desperate urge to distract yourself from the panic rising within. your sharp nails dug into your arms with an intensity that could draw blood; it was an anxious habit you developed to push away the mental turmoil by bringing forth a distraction of physical pain — and a bad one, if the scars littered across your body had anything to say about it — a habit you had been berated for time and time again.

as diluc drew nearer, you braced yourself to be reprimanded, for harsh words to be thrown at you, but he never yelled. instead, his hands, strong yet infinitely tender, gently took hold of your arms to prevent you from further hurting yourself.

his fingers trailed a delicate path along your skin until he reached your hands, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture of quiet reassurance. his hands were steady, a stark contrast to the tremors that had seized your own, his touch a grounding force that pulled you back from the brink of your self-imposed isolation.

"my love?" his voice was a whisper, laced with concern and unwavering devotion as he gently lifted your chin up to cup your cheek with his large hand. "what troubles you so?"

when you finally met his gaze, you wanted to claw your heart out, to get rid of all the awful feelings you were experiencing, but the flesh and bone protecting it rivaled the strength of diluc's love.

speak. just say something. tell him that you're okay.

all your life, you had been called mature and strong, so why, in this moment, did those traits elude you?

his concerned gaze rendered you vulnerable, boring into your soul and stripping away the façade you so meticulously crafted, leaving you exposed and raw.

you had always despised being vulnerable in front of others, but with diluc, it was different. he was the exception, the one person you felt comfortable enough to let your guard down around, to reveal the raw depths of your emotions without fear of judgment or rejection.

but despite your unwavering trust in him, you couldn't bring yourself to hold his gaze as tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over onto your cheeks. you dropped your head, trying to blink away the tears that clung to your lashes, not wanting him to see you in such a pathetic state.

you felt your throat tighten as you fought to find the words to reassure him, to ease the worry etched into the lines of his face. but try as you might, your voice failed you, lost amidst the tangled web of emotions that threatened to consume you.

just why was it so hard for you to do something as simple as speaking?

the frustration gnawed at you, a relentless reminder of your inadequacy.

why could others so effortlessly express their feelings while you remained trapped in silence, struggling to find your voice?

you longed to be normal, to communicate without the heavy weight of anxiety holding you back.

was that really too much to ask for? it wasn’t fair.

you had always struggled to connect with others, to make friends. you spent most of your days on the sidelines, watching others interact with ease in a vibrant world that seemed unattainable to you. it’s as if you were an animal locked in a zoo, a ghost in its cage laid prisoner to its thoughts, barely hanging on while everyone else around you laughed and smiled — a stark contrast to the loneliness that haunted your every waking moment.

you didn't possess a heart of gold. instead, your heart felt tainted and clouded with self-loathing, convincing you that you truly were the most horrible person to ever exist. you despised the fact that you didn't possess the ability to always be kind and loving. you loathed the coldness and bitterness that sometimes seeped through your words and actions, even when you longed to be warm and tender.

gods, you were inadequate in every sense of the word.

you had always been uninteresting, the person no one cared to pay attention to, the invisible soul that blended into the background, the one who faded into the periphery while others shone brightly. conversations seemed to flow around you, never including you, and you couldn't remember the last time someone eagerly sought out your company.

could you really blame them when you were so boring, so utterly unremarkable?

still, there was one person who saw through the masks you wore in order to fit in. diluc, with his unwavering love and deep understanding, saw the true you, the person hidden beneath layers of insecurity and doubt.

he saw the woman who had the sweetest giggle and the most endearing smile lines. he saw the little girl inside you, the one always eager to help others and ramble about her interests, the one who had so much love to give. he saw the little girl who loved to dress up and pretend to be a princess, but to diluc, it wasn’t pretend.

to diluc, you were always a princess, and he treated you as such, cherishing you like a precious gem. he was your knight in shining armour, always there to protect you, to lift you up when you felt low, and to remind you of your worth when you doubted it the most.

he was perfect. he was all that you could ever wish for and more. every time you looked at diluc, you marveled at how someone so extraordinary could be yours. you truly felt you didn’t deserve him.

the ragnvindr was so strong despite all he had been through, so kind despite all the hardships he had faced. his strength was not just in his muscles, but in his spirit, in his capacity to love and to endure. he was so selfless, never expecting anything in return for his care and hard work, even when he would go so far as to put his life on the line to protect his city and loved ones.

why did such a wonderful man choose you of all people? what did he see in you, a girl who felt so ordinary and flawed? he could have had anyone, yet his heart had somehow found its home in yours.

why, why, why? the question had repeated over and over in your head like a broken record with its needle stuck in a groove.

you never even felt adequate on the surface level. you’ve never been fond of your appearance and it has been the root of a plethora of insecurities. what didn't help is that you're constantly comparing yourself to others. every single woman around you seemed so much better — more beautiful and with captivating personalities. they moved and spoke with an ease and elegance that you felt you could never emulate.

you always experienced a gut-wrenching envy when you observed other women. seeing them speak with such ease and confidence, their words flowing effortlessly without a single stumble or stutter, made you feel incompetent and foolish.

you wished you could be like them, to have that natural poise and assurance. instead, every time you opened your mouth, you felt a tightening in your chest, your words tangled and unsure. it was as if the very act of speaking was a battleground, where you fought a losing war against your own anxiety. it made even the simplest conversation feel like a daunting task.

but what hurt the most was not just the envy, but the belief that these women possessed something inherently better, something you lacked. their confidence and poise seemed unattainable, and each comparison chipped away at your self-esteem.

not to mention that you weren't even a noble like your husband. well, technically, you now were by virtue of your marriage to diluc, but you couldn't help but feel like an imposter among the graceful and refined noblewomen who graced mondstadt's high society. you felt like a misfit in their world, an outsider looking in.

you were nobody, really. you were nothing of importance. all your life you had been invisible, so why was it that he had noticed you? why had this remarkable man chosen you out of all the women he could have had? you couldn’t understand.

for god's sake, you needed to take eight pills every day just to function; each one a bitter reminder of your weakness and shortcomings.

you constantly found yourself staring at the various pill bottles on your nightstand multiple times throughout the day. you had enough to last you months. the sight of them, with their labels and neatly arranged rows, seemed to beckon to you with a promise of escape.

they were there, always there, waiting patiently like old friends who knew your deepest secrets and darkest thoughts. you would trace your fingers over the lids, thinking that perhaps it was time you’d try again, perhaps you would not fail this time and that you’d get the eternal sleep you so desperately longed for.

you were just so tired. tired of questioning your existence and everything about yourself, tired of feeling everything and nothing all at once, tired of feeling so inadequate.

surely, diluc was starting to get tired too, right? surely, dealing with your dismal states and constantly having to reassure you had become an annoyance to him. surely, he would be better off without you.

you couldn't find the strength to pretend like you were okay any longer. it was all too much to bear. you felt overwhelmed, suffocated by the weight of your own misery and ashamed of your inability to keep it all together.

and just like that, as diluc held your hands and looked at you with eyes full of the love you didn't know if you deserved, the dam finally broke and you burst into tears.

"i-i’m sorry..."

(i'm sorry for the way that i am. i’m sorry for being hard to love. i’m sorry for burdening you. i’m sorry that you have to deal with me when i’m like this. i’m sorry it’s hard for me to express myself. i’m sorry i’m not good enough. i’m sorry that i’m holding you back because you deserve better. i’m sorry i hide parts of myself from you. i don’t want you to see how ugly i truly am.)

bringing your hands up to cover your mouth, you choked out trembling words between sobs. "’m so sorry, diluc…"

“sweetheart…” diluc’s heart broke at the sight of you trying to suppress your sobs. he immediately wrapped his arms around you, bringing you close to him and allowing you to rest your head against his chest as he pressed a kiss to your hair.

“come here. it’s okay, it’s alright.”

he was gentle with you, holding you carefully in his arms as if you were a delicate piece of glass that might shatter if he held on too tight. the two of you just stood there for a while as you cried into his chest, your tears soaking through his shirt. each and every one of your choked apologies were met with soft shushes and reassuring whispers.

he opted for running his fingers through your hair, the tender motion meant to calm your racing heart. he caressed your head gently, his touch familiar and comforting. the gesture, one you often used to soothe him during his own moments of turmoil, was now his way of trying to bring you the same peace.

he didn’t push for an answer, nor did he demand an explanation as to why you were behaving this way. instead, he held you close, offering you the space and safety to all the stress that had been building within you for god knows how long.

when your sobs gradually faded into quiet hiccups and sniffles, he decided to test the waters, his voice gentle as he broke the silence.

"how about we go to bed, sweetheart?" he murmured. "we can change into something comfortable and then we can talk about whatever you want, hm? how does that sound?"

all you could manage in response was a slight nod, still struggling to find your voice. it seemed you weren’t ready to talk yet, and that was okay. he would wait for you, for as long as it took. he would always wait for you.

he moved his hand to your hips, his touch gentle as he sensed the trembles that still coursed through your body. it was evident that you were struggling to find the strength to stand on your own as you leaned your weight against him, your legs shaking beneath you as they threatened to give in.

before your legs could give out completely, diluc acted swiftly, hooking an arm under your knees while supporting your back, effortlessly lifting you up into his arms and carrying you bridal style.

“w-wait! your work-”

“i cannot focus on work when you are so upset. you matter more than my work ever could. i would drop everything just to make sure you are okay, and that is what i will do now.” he was determined to make you feel better and was not going to let you belittle your own needs.

you didn’t have the strength to keep protesting, to insist that you were fine and that you could walk on your own, so you gave in and let yourself go limp in his embrace, nestling into his chest and surrendering to the security of his strong arms as he carried you to your shared bedroom.

pushing the door open with his hip and shutting it behind him with a soft click, he made his way to the bed, his steps silent on the plush carpet. gently, he placed you down, ensuring you were comfortable before heading to the closet. his fingers traced over the familiar fabrics until he found it — your favorite nightgown, the one he knew was the softest against your skin.

as he retrieved the nightgown from its place, a wave of nostalgia washed over him. he remembered the countless times you had worn it, the way it hugged your figure and made you look ethereal in the moonlight. draping the nightgown over his arm, he returned to your side and settled beside you on the bed.

he placed the nightgown on the side, turning his attention back to you. “would you like to talk about it now, sweetheart?”

as much as he didn’t want to push you, diluc knew that you needed a gentle nudge when it came to opening up about what was bothering you. his concern had been growing over the past few weeks, each subtle shift in your demeanor deepening his worry.

he noticed it all. of course he noticed.

he noticed how your gaze lingered on the hilt of the knife for far too long when you were preparing dinner. he noticed how you’d distantly stare over the edge of starsnatch cliff, not to look at the birds and clouds above, but down at the drop below.

every little thing you did, every time you dissociated, every sigh, he noticed it all. and more than anything, he wanted to help.

“come now, tell me what’s going through that pretty head of yours.”

diluc had cracked the code when it came to your feelings, an ability that both amazed and frustrated you. you appreciated his insight and understanding, the way he could unravel the complexities of your emotions with just a glance. but at the same time, you hated it. you cursed how effortlessly he could decipher the turmoil within you, how he could see through your façade of strength and know that something was amiss.

but deep down, you knew that he only wanted to help. you knew that his ability to see through your defenses was a testament to the depth of his love. he cared enough to pay attention, to notice the subtle shifts in your mood, and to offer his unwavering support when you needed it most.

with a deep breath, you attempted to relax your tense muscles as you shifted on the bed. panic surged within you, the dread of having to confront your problems threatening to overwhelm you, but your nerves began to calm as you felt diluc place a hand on your thigh, letting you know that he was there for you.

unable to summon the courage to meet his gaze, you kept your eyes trained on your lap, your fingers fidgeting nervously as you struggled to find the right words. sensing your inner turmoil, diluc gently nudged you once more, giving your thigh a soft squeeze.

“what’s bothering you, dear? you know you can tell me anything.”

you let out a heavy sigh, biting your lip. “it’s silly-”

“it’s not silly if it’s bothering you so much, my love,” diluc countered, his tone firm but gentle. “i don’t care if it might seem silly or pointless. i want to know what’s on my wife’s mind.”

his words were like a lifeline, a reminder that your feelings were valid and worthy of being heard. with a shaky breath, you summoned the courage to speak.

"i just… i feel so useless," you confessed, your voice barely a whisper. "you do so much for me, and i can't help but feel like i don't deserve it. all the gifts, the care, the love… it feels wasted on me."

diluc's heart ached at the sight of your pain, at the fact that you’ve been keeping these thoughts bottled to yourself for so long.

"my love, you are anything but useless. you are the light that brightens my darkest days, the warmth that fills my coldest nights. your presence in my life is a gift beyond measure, and i cherish every moment we share together," he whispered, his voice filled with conviction.

"and you are never a waste. everything i do, i do because i love you. i want to see you happy, to give you the life you deserve."

tears began to well in your eyes as you scrambled to find your next words, wanting to get rid of the heavy load in your heart.

“i don’t deserve you. you’re too good to me, diluc, i…” your voice faltered, and your throat tightened as memories of harsh words fed to you when you were just a girl came rushing back. “i…i’m starting to think that my mother was right. i’m not a good person. i’m rude, insensitive, selfish…”

stop. stop bothering him. you’re just going to chase him away with your negativity.

you could almost hear your mother’s voice echoing in your mind, taunting you with those painful memories.

“no one will want to stay with you because of the way you are.”

the words clouded your thoughts, leaving you a desperate mess. tears streamed down your face, mingling with the shame and fear that had taken root in your heart.

you couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, the one person who made you feel truly seen and loved and understood. you clung to diluc’s hand like a scared child, your voice breaking as you pleaded with him.

"i’m sorry, please don’t leave me. i’ll be better, i promise…"

diluc’s heart ached as he watched you crumble, your insecurities laid bare before him. he could see the torment in your eyes, the fear that his love for you was conditional, that he would abandon you as others had.

diluc’s expression softened, his eyes filled with an overwhelming tenderness. he gently cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your tears with a care that made your heart ache. “my love, look at me.”

“i need you to understand something,” he began, his voice steady and soothing. “your mother’s words were cruel and undeserved. they do not define you. you are more than the pain she inflicted upon you.”

“you are kind, thoughtful, and incredibly strong. you have been through so much, yet you still find it within yourself to love and care for others. that is not the mark of a rude or selfish person. that is the mark of a beautiful soul.”

you shook your head, the tears flowing freely now. how could he consider your soul to be beautiful when it was so tainted? your lower lip trembled as you listened, every word sinking into your heart and fighting against the old wounds that had festered for so long.

“but i-”

“no buts.” diluc interrupted you, firmly yet gently. seeing your tears, his gaze softened, as he tilted your head up so you could look up at him.

“you are not rude or insensitive. you are not selfish. you are human, and you are allowed to have flaws. those flaws do not define you.”

“but i feel so selfish–”

“then be selfish,” he interrupted gently.

“be selfish with me. you deserve to feel cherished, to know that you are the center of my universe. i would do anything for you. it is a privilege to take care of you and spoil you. you should know that, love.”

“but i take so much from you,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “i’m always needing something — your time, your patience, your love. how can that be fair to you? i don't want to burden you. i want to be better for you."

diluc’s expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss your forehead tenderly. “you are not a burden. you are my wife, my love, my everything. i vowed to be with you in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow. your struggles don’t make me love you any less. they make me love you more because they show me how strong you truly are. you are perfect just the way you are, i promise you.”

“but what about your needs? what about what you want?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, filled with uncertainty.

“my needs are fulfilled when i see you happy, when i can hold you and shower you with love. you bring light into my life, and i want to give you the world. please, let me love you without reservations. let me spoil you as you deserve.”

his eyes, filled with love and a determination that melted your defenses, bore into yours, grounding you in the moment.

“you think it’s selfish to need me? to want me? your husband? let me tell you something, darling. it’s not selfish to rely on the person who loves you. it’s human.”

sensing the flash of doubt in your eyes, he continued. “you give me more than you realize. your love, your presence, the way you look at me as if i’m your entire world —that’s everything to me. every smile, every touch, every moment we share… it’s worth more than anything else.”

“i don’t want you to hide your feelings from me,” he spoke steadily. “let me be your strength when you feel weak, your solace when you feel lost. we’re in this together. you are mine, and it’s my honor to be here for you, to cherish and love you.”

your hands clutched at his shirt, holding on as if he were the only thing keeping you from drowning. and in many ways, he was. his love was a lifeline, pulling you back from the brink of despair.

"i just want to be worthy of you, diluc…"

pulling you close to his chest and settling you gently on his lap, he whispered against your ear. "you already are. you always have been. just let me love you, all of you. let me be there for you.”

he caressed your hair, his fingers moving with a tender determination, as if each stroke could erase the pain etched into your heart. “can you tell me something, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice as soft as velvet, coaxing you to open up. you nodded in response, sniffling.

“what made you start thinking this way? did someone say something to you?”

your husband’s touch was reassuring, his presence making you feel so safe that the words came tumbling out before you could even think to stop yourself

“’m just scared…” you whispered, your voice trembling. “i’m so scared that– that one day you and everyone else will see me the way i see myself and realize that i’m not worth anything.”

his eyes softened even more, if that was possible, and he held you tighter, his embrace a fortress against your fears. “oh, my love,” he murmured, his breath warm against your temple. “you have nothing to be scared of. i see you, all of you, and i love you more than words can express. you are worth everything to me.”

“but i feel so… broken,” you admitted, “like i’m never going to be enough.”

he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze steady and unwavering. “you are more than enough. you are my heart, my soul, my everything. do you know what i see when i look at you?”

you gave him a shake of your head.

“i see the woman who makes my life worth living. the woman who gives me strength when i’m weak, who loves me unconditionally. i see the woman i want to spend the rest of my life with.”

no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't understand how he could love someone as flawed as you. "b-but i can hardly talk normally. i stutter. i'm no good. and i'm so bad at expressing my feelings…"

he gently caressed your cheek, guiding you to look up at him, wanting you to see how sincere he was. “well, isn’t that what i’m here for, love? to help fill in the spaces when you need me to? besides, i find it absolutely endearing when you get excited to tell me about something or get shy and stutter.”

to him, your shy stammers and hesitant speech were endearing, reflections of the depth and complexity of your character. he loved the way your cheeks flushed when you were nervous, the way your eyes flickered with determination as you fought to express yourself. to him, you were perfect in your imperfection.

“when you get excited and your words tumble out in a rush, or when you blush and stumble over your sentences, it makes my heart swell. it shows me just how deeply you feel, how passionate and genuine you are. you don’t need to be eloquent or poised to convey your feelings to me. i understand you, every part of you, even the words that are left unspoken.” he smiled sincerely, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your cheek.

tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they were tears of a different kind —tears of relief, of hope, of the fragile beginnings of belief. your tears began to fall in earnest now, not from sadness but from the overwhelming rush of love and gratitude you felt for this man who saw you so clearly, who loved you so completely despite your insecurities.

“why?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “why do you love me?”

he smiled, a tender, loving smile that lit up his face. “because you are my everything. you are my heart and soul, the one who completes me. loving you is the easiest thing in the world because you are the most incredible person i’ve ever known.”

“i don’t see any flaws when i look at you,” he whispered, brushing away your tears. “i see a woman with a heart full of love, a spirit that’s stronger than she knows. you don’t have to be perfect, my love. just be you, because that’s the person i fell in love with.”

for so long, you had stifled your tears, burying your sorrows deep within your heart, afraid of revealing the vulnerability that lurked beneath your façade of strength and being reprimanded for it.

you had become adept at hiding your tears, mastering the art of silent suffering in the dead of night, but tonight was different. tonight, the weight of your emotions were too heavy to bear alone.

the weight threatened to crush you, and you found yourself unable to contain the torrent of feelings surging through your veins. the walls you had painstakingly built around your heart began to crumble, and with each shattered fragment, a raw, unfiltered cry tore from your lips.

as your body trembled with pent up emotion and your throat constricted with unshed tears, you found yourself unable to contain the overwhelming despair that threatened to consume you.

with a choked sob, you freed yourself from the chains of silence that bound you, allowing the floodgates of your emotions to burst open. for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you wailed and wept without restraint, the sound of your cries echoing in the silent bedroom. it was a sound born of anguish, a lamentation of pain and sorrow.

you no longer cared who heard your cries, for in that moment, you knew that diluc would be there to catch you, to hold you close and soothe your shattered spirit. in his arms, you found solace, a sanctuary where judgment held no sway and love reigned supreme.

"you don’t have to hide or pretend with me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. "i love you just as you are. in your messiness, in your moments of doubt, in your quiet strength."

once your sobs subsided into soft sniffles, diluc gently pulled back, his lips tenderly kissing away the remnants of your tears. "you must be exhausted, my love. let's get you changed into something more comfortable."

with practiced ease, he helped you out of your clothes, leaving you in nothing but your undergarments. as he sat before you, he paused, his eyes drinking in the sight of you, his precious wife.

"you're so beautiful. my pretty girl." he smiled softly and leaned down to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

you frowned, imagining how disheveled you must look right now with swollen eyes and lips, disheveled hair and red nose. "i'm a mess."

"mess?" he chuckled softly, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "more like a work of art. you're gorgeous. i couldn't look away even if i wanted to."

you tried to protest, to shake your head and deny his words, but the sincerity in his eyes silenced you.

"i mean it," he continued, his thumb gently brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. "every part of you is beautiful to me. you think i don't love the sight of you in my arms, so vulnerable and emotional in front of me? you think i don't cherish the trust you show me when you cry in my arms?"

"you are beautiful in every moment," he continued, his gaze never wavering from yours. "when you laugh, when you smile, and yes, even when you cry. it shows me that you trust me enough to let me see your pain, your fears, your deepest emotions. that trust is the most precious thing you could ever give me. when you let me in, when you allow me to hold you and comfort you, it's the greatest gift you could ever give me. it means more than anything else in the world."

you looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his understanding and the unwavering devotion that lay within them. his words made your heart ache with a bittersweet mixture of love and disbelief. how could he see beauty in your tears, in your brokenness?

you had been bare before your husband countless times, but that familiarity did nothing to soothe your insecurities in this moment of vulnerability. you wanted so badly to object, to insist he was mistaken and that you were far from beautiful. your arms instinctively moved to wrap around yourself in a futile attempt to cover and hide, fearing he might take notice of all your flaws.

he sensed your distress, and with a gentleness no one but you would believe a man of his demeanor could possess, he moved your arms away, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“look at me, love. don’t hide from me, please. let me admire you. let me love you, all of you. let me show you how much i cherish you.”

you hesitated, but his voice held such sincerity, such unwavering adoration, that you couldn’t help but slowly lift your head to meet his gaze.

“good girl,” he praised softly, his words sending a flutter of warmth through you as he ran a gentle hand down your arm.

you were so bare, so vulnerable before him with your scars on full display. some had healed, leaving behind only faint, painful reminders of past sorrows. though barely visible, they never escaped your husband’s perceptive gaze, nor did they evade the tenderness of his touch. some were newer, bearing a reddish hue, akin to the color of the eyes that gazed at you with such profound love.

you wanted to hide, to pull your arms behind your back so that diluc wouldn’t see how you had failed to keep his promise to him when you gave in to your urges and punished yourself in moments of deep loneliness.

you wished fervently for the sheets to engulf you, to conceal the shame that gnawed at your heart. he felt the tenseness in your body, the slight pull of your arm as you tried to escape his observant eyes, but diluc’s grip was unwavering, his fingers firm yet tender as they held your wrist, drawing you nearer.

your voice came out in a broken whisper as he surveyed your scars, silently begging him to look away. “they’re ugly…”

diluc shook his head, his voice resolute. “no, they’re not.”

he lifted your forearm to his lips, tracing a delicate path of kisses along the lines of your scars. “every scar, every mark, they are a part of you, and i love them because i love you. they are a sign of your resilience and strength. they are nothing to be ashamed of.”

tears welled up in your eyes as you watched him shower your scars in love. “how can you not be disgusted when you look at them? when you look at me?”

wiping away your tears with his thumb, he looked at you intently, his expression completely sincere. “if only you could see yourself the way i see you, my love. how could i ever be disgusted when i look at you? you’ve survived, and that is beautiful to me. you are beautiful to me, and i adore every single inch of you, scars and all.”

“you’re not mad at me? for… this?” the timid question escaped your lips, barely audible. it was so quiet that diluc might have second-guessed whether you had spoken at all, if it weren’t for the fact that he knew you so well.

he shook his head once again. “no, i’m not mad, sweetheart. i could never be mad at you. i’m just concerned and worried about you. i understand that you were struggling, but i just wish you had come to me if you were in so much pain. you don’t have to suffer alone.”

a wave of guilt and shame washed over you, and you lowered your gaze. it was a habit you had since childhood, a way to make yourself small, to will yourself not to exist. “i-i didn’t want to bother you…”

“you’re never a bother, sweetheart. never. you’re the love of my life, my beloved wife. i want you to come to me, to lean on me. i want to help you, to support you through anything you’re going through. that’s my job as your lover. as your husband.”

his words caused your lips to quiver, your tears threatening to spill over once more. “i-i’m sorry, i’m really sorry…”

he gently shushes you, each one of your apologies feelings like a dagger to his heart. “my sweet love, don't apologize. i’m not upset with you. you don’t need to be sorry, okay?”

diluc continued his journey, trailing kisses down your forearms to your wrist, stopping to press a kiss to your pulse before threaded his fingers with yours.

"i love the feeling of holding your hand," he murmured, "it fits perfectly in mine. like you were made for me."

he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing tender kisses to each of your knuckles. "these hands… they've given me so much. so many wonderful things."

he gently pried your hand open, pressing a kiss to each of your fingertips. "they've braided my hair, held my heart," he continued, his lips lingering on your skin, "and touched me in ways no one else has ever had the privilege of."

his eyes met yours, filled with a depth of emotion that made your breath catch. "they've caressed me, comforted me, tending to my wounds in the late hours of the night with the utmost care and precision."

"not to mention they've made the sweetest pastries and most delicious meals for me," he added with a soft chuckle, his lips curving into a tender smile.

he continued to hold your hand as he brought it to his chest, right over his heart. "these hands," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "are the hands of the woman i love. they are strong, gentle, and endlessly giving. and i will spend every day showing you just how much they mean to me."

his gaze drifted to the ruby ring adorning your finger, its deep crimson hue catching the light of the room. "and this ring…"

his thumb traced the delicate curve of the gem, admiring the craftsmanship of the custom made wedding ring he had the honour of slipping on your finger years ago.

"it's a symbol of my love and commitment to you. a declaration to the world that you're mine and only mine, and i am yours."

he rested his forehead against yours and couldn’t help but melt as he gazed into your big, doe-like eyes. “your eyes could put the stars to shame,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe. “i could never get tired of looking into them. i want to get lost in them. they are absolutely captivating.”

as he admired you, his fingers absentmindedly took hold of a strand of your hair, twirling it around his finger. "when you lie beside me, your hair tickling my face, and your soft breaths against my skin, i feel complete. your hair is so fluffy, perfect for me to run my fingers through, especially when you lay on my chest.”

his hands moved to cup your cheeks, his thumbs tenderly tracing the contours of your face. "your cheeks are so soft, so kissable. i adore watching them turn rosy whenever i compliment you.”

his eyes continued to roam your features, drinking in every detail. “and have i told you that you have the cutest nose, my love? the little mole on the tip is simply adorable. it makes me want to lean in and press a kiss to it whenever i see it. in fact—” he leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of your nose, making you giggle softly.

“see?” he whispered, his lips lingering just above yours. “even your laughter is a melody i could listen to forever.”

at the sight of the shy smile that spread across your face, he closed the distance between the two of you, his movements slow and deliberate. with the gentlest of touches, he pressed his lips against yours in a soft, tender kiss.

“how can someone have a smile so captivating, a kiss so sweet?” he whispered against your lips, his voice a mere caress. “i could kiss you all day and never tire of it, my love.”

he deepened the kiss, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer, as if to merge your very souls. each touch was a promise, a vow to cherish every moment, to revel in the warmth and tenderness that only you could evoke.

pulling back, he rested his forehead against your, relishing the feeling of holding you in his arms, where you belonged. he rubbed your back soothingly, adjusting himself to rest his chin atop your head so that he could hold you even closer.

“your skin is so soft, like velvet rose petals,” he murmured into your hair. if it were up to him, he would spend hours just caressing every inch of your skin, exploring your body and mapping it out, every dip and curve, every crevice, memorizing every last bit.

his fingertips glided gently along your arm, tracing invisible patterns. “i could lose myself in you,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe and reverence. “every inch of you is a masterpiece. i want to memorize, every scar, every beautiful imperfection.”

his hands moved with a reverence that made your heart ache, tracing patterns along your back, your shoulders, your waist. “you’re like a work of art. every time i touch you, i discover something new, something that makes me fall in love with you all over again.”

he pulled back slightly to gaze into your eyes, his own filled with a fierce yet tender longing. “you are my sanctuary, my haven. when i hold you, the world fades away, and all that remains is us. your beauty, your warmth, they are imprinted in my very soul.”

his hands continued their tender exploration, moving to your back, your shoulders, lingering on each delicate curve as if he were committing it to memory.

“i want to know every part of you, every secret your body holds,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “i want to learn the language of your sighs, the melody of your heartbeat. you are my everything, and i will spend every day of my life proving it to you if i must.”

he pressed a soft kiss to the nape of your neck, his lips lingering as if reluctant to part. “let me love you endlessly,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “let me show you just how cherished you are, how deeply you are adored.”

and with that, he let his actions speak where words fell short. his lips found yours in another tender kiss, a soft, lingering touch that conveyed more than any words ever could.

his lips then trailed a path of gentle kisses down your neck, each touch soft and reverent, as if worshipping the very essence of you.

"you are so beautiful," he breathed, his voice filled with awe and adoration. "so incredibly beautiful."

his hands, strong yet oh so gentle, roamed over your body with a reverence that made your heart ache with love. his touch was soft, as if he was afraid you might break, but it was filled with a passion that spoke of his deep, undying love for you.

he kissed your shoulders, your collarbone, his lips lingering over every inch of your skin, mapping out your body with a devotion that made you feel cherished, adored, and most importantly, loved.

he pulled you closer, his arms enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and safety. every kiss, every touch, was a testament to his love, his need to show you just how much you meant to him.

your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, to lose yourself in the depth of his love. he responded with a soft, hushed murmur of your name, his voice thick with emotion.

"you're mine, body and soul," he whispered against your lips, his breath mingling with yours, "and i love you more than i could ever express."

with his arms wrapped around you as you clung to him, you allowed yourself to believe, if only for that moment, that maybe — just maybe — you were worthy of the love and adoration he so freely gave.

once diluc deemed you thoroughly showered in his love and saw the spark return to your eyes, he gently helped you into your silk nightgown, the smooth fabric cool and comforting against your skin.

his hands lingered on your shoulders for a moment, his touch reassuring and tender, before he stepped back to admire you. he smiled at you before breaking the comfortable silence.

“now, i got you something.”

you looked up at him, a mixture of shock and surprise flooding your features. just moments ago, you had been crying over how this man spoiled you too much, and here he was, ready to do it again.

“w-what? diluc, you didn’t have to-”

“shh,” he shushed you gently, a soft smile playing on his lips. “i wanted to. plus, don’t think i can’t tell that you haven’t eaten all day, love.”

he placed a small box in front of you, and you immediately recognized it to be from the bakery that you both loved to visit.

he opened the box, revealing the fresh slice of red velvet cake inside. “your favourite. i would’ve given it to you earlier, but i know you don't like eating when you’re upset.”

you couldn’t stop the tears from welling up again at his endless thoughtfulness. “you remembered?”

he chuckled softly, “of course i remember your favourite cake, sweetheart. i remember every little thing about you.”

taking a piece of the red velvet cake on a fork, he held it up to your mouth to feed you, his eyes warm and encouraging. "please eat, love. for me?"

without hesitation, you leaned in and opened your mouth, accepting the bite of cake he offered. a tear slipped down your cheek as you chewed on the fluffy treat, savoring the rich, velvety taste. "’s good…"

diluc's free hand reached up to wipe away the tear with a tenderness that made your heart ache with love. "i'm glad you like it, love," he murmured, his thumb brushing your cheek.

he continued to feed you, taking a few bites of his own as you insisted he share with you. you savored the sweetness of the cake, but even more so, you cherished the man before you, whose love seemed boundless.

as the evening wound down, diluc made quick work of tidying up and changing out of his work clothes. before he could join you in bed, he stopped by your nightstand, glancing down at your book that he had put aside earlier.

“would you like me to read to you, love?”

your heart fluttered at his thoughtful gesture. although you adored hearing his voice weave through the pages of your favorite stories, sleep was beginning to tug at you. you shook your head slightly, extending your arm toward him with a weary smile.

“no thanks… can we just cuddle?”

he smiled fondly before settling beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. “of course we can cuddle, sweetheart. come here.”

he pulled you into his embrace, your bodies fitting perfectly against each other. you sighed contentedly, snuggling into his bare chest and listening to his steady heartbeat. the warmth of his skin against yours and the gentle rise and fall of his chest were the epitome of comfort.

“rest, my love,” diluc murmured, his voice a soothing whisper. “you’re safe in my arms.”

with a sleepy murmur, you whispered back, “thank you, diluc. for everything…”

(thank you for loving me.)

he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, pulling you even closer. “always, my heart,” he replied softly. “always.”

(there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you.)

your eyes fluttered shut, and just before the veil of dreams enveloped you, you heard diluc’s voice, gentle and filled with tender affection.

"sweet dreams, my love. i love you."

thank you for reading ♡

[abyislan08]

౨ৎ nightmares.

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SYNOPSIS... sumeru has undergone a lot of changes, and adults can now dream. this new capability was welcomed with open arms by people all across the region, however some slumber-induced fantasies were more welcome than others... - aka; comforting your husband, alhaitham, after he experiences his first nightmare

"haitham!!!"

you cry out to him, desperation heavy in your eyes as you hold firm eye contact with your beloved. it was no use; you were falling, and he couldn't do anything to help you. further and further, it seems to alhaitham like your body is shrinking, and in all honesty, you wish it was. you wish you could fly, or at least slow down the fall by even a second, and take in as much of him as you can before you inevitably meet your demise. you wanted to remember every last part of him, to love him in life and in death, just like you promised.

you knew you were going to die, you knew this was the end, but in your last moment, you smile. you didn't want to face the love of your life with anything other than joy plastered on your face; you wanted so badly for alhaitham's last memory of you to be a happy one, but how could he possibly be happy when the person he would take lives for loses their own?

before he knew it, it was all over as fast as it had started. you were gone, and he couldn't do anything about it, you weren't coming back. just like that, you were nothing but a memory.

he didn't want to believe it. he wouldn't. how could he possibly admit that he'd lost you?

he wants to cry, to scream, to yell and curse at the cruel world that had taken you from him, but he couldn't. it was as if something had been lodged deep inside his throat, a lump he couldn't possibly push out no matter how hard he tried. perhaps it was the love he had for you, or the knowledge that no matter how close you felt, you'd always be just out of reach.

that's when it hits him, a soaring pain slamming into his back and flowing through his veins; the cruel poison of fate. he tries to put up a fight, archons he tries, but his mind is elsewhere, and he can't seem to pull his eyes away from the speck that is your lifeless body laying hundreds of metres below him. this is it, it's all over, everything he's lived for, coming to an end at the hands of a measly -

"NO!"

the bed shakes as alhaitham shoots up from under the covers, eyes wide and breath heavy, clawing at the fabric of his sleeping shirt as he attempts to ground himself. what in teyvat was that?

it's dark. he can't see, he can't breathe. he's overcome by pure panic as he tries desperately to regain his senses, but to no avail.

"mmm... 'haitham? you ok?"

your scratchy voice breaks through the pounding in his chest, calling out to him in a hushed whisper as you run a hand up and down his arm. he feels clammy. a thin sheen of sweat covers his arms, reflecting the soft moonlight off his toned figure.

"love?"

no response. the poor man is so shaken up, and i mean that quite literally; he can't seem to keep still. you feel the mattress tremble beneath you as his chest heaves, taking in as much air as he possibly can. it's futile. he's scared.

he knows what nightmares are. he knows how they work, where they come from, how they can affect you, but never in his life has he ever had one. in fact, it's been years since he's even dreamt.

with alhaitham sat up rigid beside on the edge of the bed, you try to rack your brain, taking yourself back to the times you had woken up distressed, and how your beloved boyfriend had cradled you in his arms, murmuring sweet nothings in you ear while rocking the two of you back and forth.

"c'mere..."

you smile up at him with open arms, yet nothing could hide the concern in your eyes as you noticed the glisten on his cheeks.

"oh, love..."

with you're right hand, you reach up to cup his face, catching the salty droplets with the soft padding of your thumb. his cheeks are rosy, from stress or embarrassment you'll never know, but the faint pink hue makes him look oh so pretty.

"was it a nightmare?"

he nods sheepishly into your chest, nuzzling his face further into your shirt as he inhales deeply and lets out a shaky sigh. you feel his hands clutching onto the back of your shirt, as if he was scared he'd lose you, as if he was scared you'd fall out of his grasp once more.

it's almost endearing how he clings to you, though you're completely clueless as to the reason why. nevertheless, you hold him tightly against you, encircling him in your warmth and your scent as you gently begin to sway from side to side, lifting up his chin and peppering tender kisses all over his face and down his neck. it's grounding, the feeing of you. no matter what, you never fail to calm him, to comfort him in his times of need, and he is more than willing to return the favour.

an hour passes and alhaitham still insists on being wrapped in your arms, refusing to give in to sleep, no matter how enticing it may be as the night moves forward. he feels the need to watch over you, and you're more than happy to comply; in your eyes, it just means the two of you get to spend more time together.

it's a known fact that the scholar doesn't like to dwell, and so the two of you completely disregard the elephant in the room, instead focusing on mundane topics like what to have for dinner the next day, or your schedules for the week: typical married couple stuff.

finally, while listening to you defend his old roommate and close friend, kaveh, after 20 minutes worth of ruthless criticism, your husband slips into a deep slumber, his features finally relaxed as he lies beside you.

you have to admit, he makes you worry. always being so uptight and serious can't possibly be good for him, though in this moment, despite what he endured earlier that night, you think this is the most at peace you've ever seen him...

A/N... sorry if the ending seemed kinda sudden,, i couldn't come up with anything elseee sighh

thanks for reading ♡ want to read more? my requests are OPEN, so please feel free to let me know what you’d like me to write next!

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