HELIOTROPES

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and cruel and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui, no other warnings

notes: i enjoyed writing this one ajfdhuaisdfuhs it was a bit of a character study for dottore, i love being able to get into his head like this

MIDWINTER

He was born without a mark. It’s not abnormal--statistically, half of the population would be born without a mark because you don’t receive your mark until your soulmate is born. Most receive theirs within the first five years of their life, if they weren’t born with one. Others are unlucky, and they have to wait up to ten. 

Dottore never received his. 

He waited years. When he was five years old, and other kids his age were starting to see the red thread that connected them with their soulmate, he was still waiting on his mark. When he was ten years old, and other kids his age were starting to feel their soulmate's emotions, he was still waiting on his mark. When he was fifteen years old, and other kids his age were finally seeing random words scrawled on their forearms reflecting their soulmate’s thoughts, he was still waiting on his mark. 

When he was younger, he tried to convince himself it didn’t matter--that one day, his mark would show up, just like how it did for everyone else. But it was hard to convince himself of that when everyday he was reminded that he didn’t have one. He was reminded by nasty kids who would push him to the ground and laugh at him, he was reminded by equally nasty adults who whispered that only the soulless and the damned didn’t receive their soulmarks, and he was reminded by his parents who stripped him down to search him for his mark everyday so they could prove their son wasn’t cursed. 

Dottore accepted that he did not have a soulmate. He would even go so far as to say he embraced it. It took him a long time to reach that mentality, years of coming to terms with it, but he firmly believed that he was better off. Having a soulmate was a mortal weakness that he was freed of--he had seen it be the downfall of many men before and he refused to meet the same fate. 

Without a soulmate, he could focus on more important things. He could devote his time and energy to his research, further the Fatui in their rebellion against Celestia, and he could do it all without the weakness that all of humanity had. 

He was stronger without a soulmate. It proved he was above mankind, beyond the limits that humans were confined to. He was better without a soulmate. 

A harsh gust of wind battered the window of his room, ice webbing at the bottom of the glass, creeping up the sides. Dottore sighed as he lifted his hand to his face, pulling off the mask that hid him from the rest of the world. 

He wasn’t sure why he was thinking about this again. His gaze drew to the mirror on the opposite side of the room, eyes tracing the rough, jagged skin across the top of his face--a product of the demonization cast over him by the people of his old village. Dottore’s lips twisted into a deep frown as he forced himself to look away, it had been a long time since he had even had a passing thought of it, much less dwelling on it as he was now. 

He turned away from the mirror over to the candle resting at his nightstand--dimly lighting up the dark, spacious room. Shadows reflected eerily across the room from the trees swaying in the wind outside to the small flame dancing at his bedside. A blizzard rattled the palace around him, he wondered if it was the doing of the Tsaritsa or if it was just a natural storm. 

Dottore hated the winter.

He always had. It had nothing to do with the bone-chilling weather and frequent storms. He barely could even feel the cold anymore, and he thought storms might be better for him because he could coop himself up in his lab without having to worry about the Jester disturbing his research and telling him to go on some mission. He had hated the winter even before he had left Sumeru for Snezhnaya, where the temperatures were five times as warm and the earth of the forest started to dry from a lack of rain. 

Winter had always been the unluckiest time of year for him--it was when he was originally chased from the village, it was when he was cast out from the Akademiya. Winter was when he had faced some of the biggest failures of his life regarding his research into Archon residue. Winter was when the first segment he had created was destroyed. Winter was when he was dealt a fatal blow that had made him abandon his body for an artificial one. 

Dottore despised the winter. 

He sat on his bed, rubbing his eyes. He was tired, that was the only explanation for why his mind was wandering to such a topic. He had been able to free himself of the shackles that many mortals were restricted by--aging, natural death, even unnatural death could be avoided, for the most part, but he still found himself chained by fatigue and hunger. He could suppress it longer than the average person but it never failed to limit him. 

He supposed that he should rest. Tomorrow there was to be a meeting with all of the Harbingers--discussion on what was to be done about the spots of the late 9th and 11th, who had met their end on a failed mission in Natlan earlier in the month. With the Captain finally returning with their bodies, it would be time to put them to rest and figure out how to move forward. He could already hear the bickering of Sandrone and Scaramouche, Arlecchino’s snide comments that just set the other two off even more. 

Dottore thought that the whole situation was ridiculous. There had been no need to send two of the newest Harbingers down to Natlan when they all knew very well that Natlan was getting more and more aggressive to the Fatui within their borders. They had been sent on a diplomatic mission, to observe, but the Pyro Archon claimed that they had made an attempt on her life. A blatant lie, but the only ones left alive to corroborate the story were the Pyro Archon’s sycophants.

It was meant to be a challenge. The Pyro Archon was challenging the Tsaritsa to do something about her butchering two of her most loyal followers, she was hoping for a war… but Snezhnaya could not afford a war right now. Their economy was failing and the dead of winter was nigh, when all crops would start dying and animals would freeze mid-trot. Famine would begin to wrap its chilly fingers around the throats of the citizens of Snezhnaya, the bitter cold would seep into the warmest homes and it was not the time for the Fatui to war with Teyvat’s strongest military. They were already struggling politically with the old-blood aristocracy breathing down their necks and with the support of the masses, there wasn’t much that the Fatui could do to press back until they were in a better position, even with the support of the Tsaritsa herself. 

Dottore pinched the bridge of his nose, the meeting was hours from beginning and he could already feel the incoming headache. He had no interest in Snezhnayan politics, he had no interest in what was to be done about the empty seats amongst the Harbingers. All he wanted to do was continue his research--the Delta segment would be returning from Sumeru at some point tomorrow to give him an update on the Irminsul project and his input was needed before Delta or any of the other older segments took any further steps. 

He let out a heavy breath as he rose back to his feet, intent on changing out of his clothes and into something more comfortable before he finally laid down to rest for the night. As he rose, he felt something soft, feather-light even, brushing against his thumb. Without thinking, he reached for a handkerchief folded tidily on the edge of his bedside dresser.

He wiped off his hands without even bothering to look, figuring that it was just the remnants of the material he was working with down in his lab but as he crossed the room to his wardrobe, that strange, weightless feeling against his thumb remained. 

Dottore’s eyes finally drew down to his right hand, curiosity getting the best of him, as always. And he stared, for a second and then two before a laugh bubbled in his chest, begging to be released. 

Not for the first time, he thought that the gods had a sick and twisted sense of humor because wrapped neatly around his thumb was that thin, red thread that supposedly tied him to his soulmate, over four hundred and fifty years late. 

He thought it was strange how everything around him moved on as normal as if his whole world hadn’t been shattered in a matter of five seconds the night before. He wasn’t able to sleep after noticing the thread and he hadn’t been able to bring himself to look for the soulmark that was undoubtedly branded somewhere on his body. 

He felt weak. Mortal, again. He hated it. 

“Then we wait,” Sandrone said dryly, her sharp voice drawing Dottore back into the conversation. His eyes left the red thread for the first time since he arrived at the meeting, flickering up to where the woman was resting in a chair, a large automaton standing behind her. “Why give a seat to someone unworthy? We’ll wait until two have proven their strength and they can-”

“And how long will that take?” Scaramouche’s voice was cold and grating as he interrupted Sandrone and Dottore’s lips thinned, realizing the inevitable argument between the Sixth and the Seventh was about to begin. 

“However long it takes,” Sandrone responded, voice little over a hiss, blue eyes flinty.

“Ah, yes, yet another a bright idea from the Seventh. Let’s just leave the spots empty when enemies are on our doorstep, show even more weakness,” Scaramouche scoffed, not even bothering to hide the way he rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his seat. 

“If you have a better idea, Balladeer, please, speak up with it,” Sandrone replied. “I’d love to…”

The thread was vibrating. 

Dottore’s gaze flickered down beneath his mask to where his hands were resting on the ebony table, tuning out the conversation around him as he focused on the red string. He could barely feel it, much less see the little vibrations, but he was hyper-focused on it now. It was uneven thrums, as if someone was flicking the thread over and over again--they were getting faster, more impatient, and Dottore couldn’t help but think back to his childhood, when he was five years old and would watch other kids his age laying in the grass snapping their string incessantly, waiting for a responding snap from their soulmate. 

His eyes flickered to the wide windows on the far side of the room, the blizzard still raged outside but he could see the sun rising in the distance. 

So, you’re finally awake, he thought to himself, gaze drawing back to his thumb as the thrums got more and more insistent. A child. His soulmate was a child right now--excited at waking up to the appearance of the thread, hoping that their soulmate was just as excited as they were. Dottore had, for a long time, believed that his heart had gone cold and dead and he did not like the ache he felt in his empty chest. 

A weakness. Just like that, he was brought down to the level of man. 

Soulmates were blinding, they caused people to act with their heart and not their head. Dottore prided himself on being a man that removed his heart from decision making. He put nothing above furthering his research--no morals, no virtues, no principles came before his success and he could not allow this to change anything. 

He had gone this long without a soulmate, he didn’t need one now. 

But he couldn’t tear his eyes off the vibrating thread no matter how hard he tried. He could hear the conversation continuing around him but it sounded like a distant buzz--nothing could break his concentration on the thread, not even himself, and before he knew what he was doing, he was lifting his pointer finger and flicking it down, right on the string. 

He inhaled as discreetly as he could once he realized what he had done, straightening in his seat. The vibrations from the opposite end had stopped instantly, and then all at once: one, two, three, four flicks. 

Excitement, but all Dottore could feel was dread sinking in his stomach.

He could feel a pair of eyes on him. Dottore forced his gaze up to where the Tenth was sitting across from him, green eyes trained on his hand. Dottore’s lips flattened. Did he know? How would he know? But even with the mask adorning his face, the Tenth must have felt Dottore’s livid glare, looking up with a sheepish smile as he motioned to his own hand, his pointer finger, as if he was trying to show Dottore what he was looking at. 

Dottore’s ring.

Of course, Dottore thought to himself dryly. He should have expected nothing less from the avaricious man.

Brighella had been brought in by Arlecchino--the Knave had spoken highly of the man’s intelligence and fighting ability, but so far all Dottore had seen from the Tenth Harbinger was a greed for wealth and alcohol. Dottore thought the man was more deserving of the title Jester than Pierro was, because all he was good for was his unintentional drunken entertainment during events. 

Dottore let his gaze drop back to his hands, where the vibrating had finally stopped--seemingly pleased with finally getting a response from him--and Dottore couldn’t push away the emotions clawing at him from every angle. 

He hated it. 

He was good at compartmentalizing all of his feelings, pushing away all of the unwelcome ones and storing them in little corners until they finally dissipated but he couldn’t this time. They were too intense and Dottore felt overwhelmed. It had barely been half a day and he was already rattled by the new circumstances--rattled enough that he was struggling to keep himself composed internally. 

Anxiety and dread were paramount, yes, but there was also pity. 

The people of his old village had convinced him that he was cursed but he knew now that he was not the cursed one--it was the one that shared a mark with him instead. 

Delta had arrived. Dottore could feel him approaching the palace, battling his way through the blizzard. He was not alone, he could feel another presence at his side--another segment--and he had a feeling he knew exactly which one it was and he was not pleased. 

His movements were sharp as he put away the materials that he was using, annoyed at Delta and his inability to say no to the younger segments. For as stubborn and prideful the older segment was, all it took was a few whines from the Iota or Kappa segment and he was rolling over doing whatever they asked. 

Dottore did not know how having a soulmate would affect the segments. He just knew it would be a distraction that they could not afford.

Would they have a mark? Dottore didn’t even know if he had a mark. He had yet to step in front of a mirror and look--it would make it too real, as if the damning thread wasn’t real enough. 

Would they be able to see the thread? Would they have their own? Dottore hoped not. He did not want them to know--not yet, at least. 

Dottore exhaled, safely storing the final vial in a cabinet too high for the Iota segment to reach and knock down just as the door to his lab was flung open harshly, shaking the cabinets closest to the door. He raised his eyebrows, turning on his heel to face the two arrivals. 

Both segments were bundled in layers, cloaks drenched with water and furred hoods littered with snowflakes. The Delta segment was frowning, eyeing the room suspiciously, and the Iota segment was bouncing at his side, head whipping back and forth as he looked around the room--his first time in Dottore’s personal lab.

Something that Dottore had tried to keep on purpose. The last segment he wanted in his lab was the Iota segment--he was the clumsiest segment, one of the two segments with absolutely no sense of self-control, letting his curiosity get the best of him even in the worst situations. He was created in the mindset of his ten year old self, right after he had been cast out from his village. Dottore had thought that he could use Iota to see the Aranara of Vanarana but evidently, Iota no longer had that childlike innocence that allowed children to see the Aranara… which Dottore should have expected considering the circumstances after which he was created.

“You’re late,” Dottore said dryly, wiping his hands with a towel as he stepped out from behind the lab table he was working at. 

“Yes,” Delta responded, voice just as dry. “There’s a bit of a blizzard outside, if you didn’t notice.”

Dottore raised his eyebrows at the snark and Delta, the most quarrelsome of the segments--except maybe Theta--only raised his eyebrows right back. Dottore’s eyes narrowed, annoyance worming its way onto his expression at the blatant disrespect. He had half a mind to remind him what exactly happened to the last segment that pushed him too far but instead, he was forced to move forward, right hand curling around Iota’s wrist just as the boy reached for some of Dottore’s notes. 

“Do not start,” Dottore said sharply--perhaps he should have watched his tone, Iota was always the most sensitive when it came to tone and the last thing he wanted to deal with was a hysterical child. 

… but Iota didn’t react to his tone. Instead, his eyes were wide and wondrous as he stared at Dottore’s hand. His right hand. Specifically, his right thumb. 

Dottore’s stomach dropped, he released Iota’s wrist in an instant, stepping away, but Iota was persistent, darting forward to grab Dottore’s wrist now, reaching to grab the red string but his hand went right through it. 

“What is that?” Delta asked, voice quiet and sharp. 

So they could see his thread, but Dottore could safely assume that they did not have their own. 

“Is it real?” Iota was still trying to grab the string--undoubtedly to tug at it just to feel the responding tug from their soulmate, just as he had felt from the opposite end this morning. 

“It is real,” Dottore wasn’t even sure if he believed the words himself but logically, he had no reason to think otherwise. “It appeared last night.”

The reaction was almost instantaneous--Delta’s eyes shot open and Iota was wailing, clutching at Dottore’s waist, letting out incoherent babbles of how he knew that they had a soulmate, and how he knew that they weren’t damned or soulless, and how Kappa and Gamma would be-

“Do not tell them,” Dottore said sharply and Iota sobered up immediately, bottom lip wobbly and red eyes teary as he peered up at Dottore, questioning. “This is to stay between us for now, do you understand?”

“But Kappa-” Iota sniffled, confused, “and the others, they’ll be-”

“Do you understand?” Dottore asked again, gaze heavy as he waited for a response from both of his segments. “We do not need any new distractions, we’re finally making progress on our projects.”

Iota looked as if he had been physically slapped, brows knit together and biting his bottom lip as he looked between Delta and Dottore, as if expecting Delta to argue with Dottore. Dottore kept his expression steady, challenging, waiting for Delta to say something. Delta was argumentative but unlike Theta, he was not stupid. He knew when to pick fights and when to back off.

Delta was searching Dottore’s face for something, and Dottore made sure to keep his face blank. “You really don’t care?” Delta finally asked.

Dottore didn’t respond, partially because even as Delta asked the question, there was another soft tug at the red thread wrapped around his thumb. He forced himself not to look down at it, ignoring it this time. He did not care, and even if he did, he would force himself not to, just like he did a million times before when he forced himself to not care that he didn’t have a soulmate. 

It was better for him, and it was better for the child on the opposite end of the string--who would grow up expecting their perfect match and be met with him.

“You were called back to report on the Irminsul project,” Dottore, a master of deflection, changed the subject rather than responding. Delta scoffed. “So, sit down and report. Enough of this nonsense. This is exactly why the other segments will not know.”

The anxiety, and the dread, and the pity was gone. It was replaced by anger. 

Dottore was sick and tired of the gods fucking around with him.

Dottore stood in front of the mirror, lips thin and mask removed as he considered searching for the soulmark that was bound to be branded somewhere on his skin. It had been a long, long time since he had last searched his body for one. He had stopped after he had been cast out from the Akademiya--having given up on acceptance of any kind, be it from strangers or finally receiving his soulmate. He didn’t even want to look now but curiosity had always been his fatal flaw. 

What did it look like? Where was it placed? His body was artificial, would there even be a soulmark?

Slowly and meticulously, he removed his shirt, scanning his torso and arms for any sign of the mark. He didn’t know what to look for--as far as he was aware, people’s marks could look like anything. The majority of people had some sort of symbol, be it a flower or animal or even some sort of item that’s a shared interest of the duo. 

Dottore had no idea what he might share with his soulmate. 

Methodologically, he turned over each arm--just as his parents would do when they were frantically searching him for a mark when he was a child. 

Nothing. 

Dottore stared at himself in the mirror, the scars that littered his body and face were stark in comparison to the rest of the fair skin. He shook his head as he finally turned around, back facing the mirror. He twisted his neck, looking over his shoulder to scan his back, gaze crawling up from his waistband until it reached his shoulders. 

Dottore inhaled sharply, red eyes widening just a bit as he caught sight of the mark branded right between his shoulder blades--a small cluster of purple flowers spread out on his skin. 

Heliotropes, he recognized and Dottore didn’t know if he should roll his eyes or laugh at the irony. Symbol of eternal devotion… poisonous to humans. 

Of course. 

Dottore thought that should be enough of a sign to end this before it weakened him even further--nip the issue in the bud before it could become detrimental. He had never actually seen someone cut their thread before but there were old wives’ tales about it and if anyone could figure out how to do it, it would be him. 

For his sake, and for whoever was on the opposite end.

… and then there was a little tug at the string--once, then twice, and then a third time. 

The moon was high in the sky now. Night had long fallen. He wondered if this was meant to be a goodnight. 

Dottore sighed as he stepped away from the mirror, sitting down at the edge of his bed, leaving the goodnight unanswered as he contemplated what he should do. His gaze shifted back to the window as a branch rattled the glass. 

Dottore hated the winter. Time and time again, it proved to be the worst months of his life… but a part of him--deep, deep down--wondered if this was all too bad because as he watched the ice creep up the frame of the window, this time with the phantom vibrations of his soulmate flicking at the string, it was with a bit more fondness than there was the night before.

—-

reblogs appreciated!

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Still hungy... (vwv)

Give blondie what he wants ww 🫂

Hi! This is not a request or anything, I was just wondering what are your thoughts on Alhaitham and long distance relationships? Would he be the type to break it off before parting (because his logical brain says that's the best option so that things end amicably)? Or do you think he'd want to keep the relationship going (because he'd rather yearn than mourn the relationship)? 👀

In it for the long run

Scenario: Alhaitham and long-distance relationships wc: 1.6k tags: slight angst, fluff, underlying miscommunication, alhaitham is whipped a/n: I KNOW THIS ISN'T A REQUEST BUT I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG I WAS BUSY WITH LIFE ;-; okay! kind of a weird formatting but tiny drabble at the front and original bullet point hc version at the back! not proofread and kind of rushed but yay!! xin is back and writing alhaitham!! now if only she could write gojo

Break it off?

The words that spill out of your lips almost make him drop his book. He stares at you, ears ringing, eyes focused on your lips as—fuck—you mouth those words again.

You were serious, weren't you?

Heart pounding in his chest, mind hazy with confusion and hurt, all that repeats in the forefront of his mind is a steady stream of why, why, why?

Alhaitham knows he's not the most affectionate boyfriend there is, and the gods only know how much you deserve better than him, but he was under the assumption that he's been doing a good job navigating a relationship with you.

You and he had your ups and downs as all couples do, but open communication had always been an integral part of your relationship. You hadn't shown any sign that you wanted out.

What happened? What changed?

Was this his fault? He knows that becoming the Acting Grand Sage had given him a lot more trouble than he had anticipated, but had he driven you away?

He closes his book, setting it aside. When Alhaitham manages to find his voice, it comes out raspier than usual.

"...Where is this coming from?"

You scratch at your wrist, a nervous tic. He stares at your reddening skin as if it'll give him an answer. It's better than letting himself get caught up in his own mind.

"I just," you stumble, and he pushes away his inner voice that details the hundred and one reasons why he doesn't deserve you. Why it's obvious that you wanted to leave. "It'll be easier on us if we do."

He frowns. There's a you-shaped hole in his chest where you lived, decorated with all the knick-knacks you love. It's sealed in. Cemented, even.

You've long since invaded his life and his mind. A permanent fixture. Easier? "For whom?"

"Huh?"

"What makes you think that separating"—and Archons does that word puts a bad taste in his mouth—"makes things 'easier'? Whatever that even means."

Was this about your research?

"Who put this ridiculous notion in your head?" He asks, chest constricting with an emotion he can't really discern.

"I... did?" you answer him hesitantly. "I don't want to either, but it's just— it'll be rough, Haitham. You'd be in Sumeru and I'd be in Inazuma-"

"It's not that far from here." He lies. It takes a week to get there.

"-and," you ignore his interjection. "You hate stuff that's complicated. A long-distance relationship will be complicated."

You don't elaborate, but Alhaitham knows the implications. He's heard all the horror stories from his time in the Akademiya.

"So... yeah."

Alhaitham stares at you. For once, he doesn't know what to say. Something churns and claws around in the pits of his stomach, and he painfully swallows down the lump in his throat.

"You know that it's for the best," you mutter, voice impossibly tiny. If not for the silence of the room, he would have missed what you said. But it's terribly quiet, and amidst the silence, Alhaitham can hear his own heart crack around the edges.

"No."

He doesn't say it much, but he thought you knew he'd follow you to the ends of the earth if it came down to it. Going long-distance wasn't the end of the world, but losing you? That'd be it for him.

Your head snaps up, eyes wide like you hadn't expected to hear that fall from his lips so decidedly. "What?"

"No." He repeats, biting the inside of his cheek as he glares at you. You didn't get to make this decision without him. Did you really think of him that badly? That he'd leave upon the slightest hiccup?

"Absolutely not. No. No."

"Why?" You ask, grasping for a reason to hold on.

"Because..."

There's a lot of things he could say.

Like that you're the love of his life. The only person he's ever imagined a future with.

He could tell you that he's loved you from the moment you walked through the doors of the Akademiya, from the very second you had looked his way. That he loved you then, and just didn't know it yet. That he loves you now, and will forever.

You've invaded every aspect of his life and made it yours even before he understood what love was. The fruit you love but he hates is always refilled, packed neatly in the fridge. The jackets that you wear are always tossed over the arm of the couch. Next to his collection of coffee beans is your collection of teas.

The memory foam in his room remembers your shape. The pillow you steal from him is bathed in the smell of your shampoo. The sheets that tangle between the both of you when you sleep is soaked in your warmth.

Everything he sees, everything he does, everything he feels... he associates it with you.

There was no before, no after. Only the present and the future.

He could tell you this. In fact, he should be telling you this. God knows how he doesn't say it enough. But you're teary, and you look like you're about to leave, and Alhaitham can't lose you.

"Why, Haitham?"

Because you love him and he loves you. Wasn't that enough?

You having to go away for a year, even a little bit more than that, was nothing in the grand scheme of things. He'd wait for you, even if the sky fell.

"Why?" He repeats, almost letting out a baffled laugh because how were you so smart, so adorable, and yet, still not see?

Why? Because your relationship was stronger than whatever momentary flings the Akademiya scholars were having. Why? Because you and he had built this relationship. Started it from the ground up. Paved a way even against everyone's expectations. And if you were doing this out of consideration of him, you didn't have to.

"Because I'd do anything for you. Even if it means to wait."

Besides, no one said that he couldn't apply for leave.

Okay weird transition point but hi!!!!!!!! this was my original response until my brain said fuck it lets write

Alhaitham would NEVER

Look this man is LOGICAL. Do you know how illogical a relationship can get???

It's my understanding that he AGONISES over deciding to pursue you/not.

So when he finally does?

BET that he already has a 6-month, 2 year, 5 year, 10 year plan mapped out

Binder? No. It's in that big juicy brain of his.

He isn't the most organised okay

The only concrete thing that signaled him even having a plan were tiny post-its and scribbles on random pieces of paper

In fact the disorganisation makes it hard/impossible for you to know until he tells you about it

Anyway

Alhaitham dates you with the intention of marrying you someday.

With his decision to date you came his decision to accept everything you and life would throw at him (within reason)

When you first brought up the possibility of needing to go overseas for a semi-long period of time he didn't even think that breaking up was on the table

It was that outlandish.

So when you randomly spring it up on him one fine day?? You effectively shatter a part of his heart

The both of you have been through so much and you're worried your relationship wouldn't be able to handle the strain?

I mean it's a valid point

But Alhaitham thought you knew better than that.

He rather fight and try and make it last as long as he possibly could than give up without a fight

And he knows you're not doing this for your sake, but his! What's the point if he doesn't want it

Plus

What's stopping him from going to you?

Going to Mondstadt? He can just visit every now and then. It's not that far! Hell, he could live with you and just have his subordinates travel over to hand him any documents

Going to Liyue? Even easier. He can go to you every weekend. It's not that hard to get to Liyue from Sumeru!!

Going to Inazuma? Okay it's a little tougher but who says he can't just buy a waverider

Natlan? Fontaine? Snezhnaya? Fuck it! He'll move over with you!

It's not like he doesn't have paid and unpaid leave.

It's not like he isn't well-off, either. Please, he could always just rent out his properties and get passive income

I would argue that Alhaitham actually has a lot of investment schemes. The man is very financially stable (thats so hot of him)

Just give him a book or two, a peck here and there, and he'll be a happy happy guy

So going with you is definitely a feasible plan! Unless you don't want him to

So yeah! He wouldn't break it off. You'd be the one to suggest it and he'd be the one to strike it down.

Expect a debate where you lose.

And yes he would much rather yearn for you than mourn your loss.

Alhaitham has a lot of faith in himself and especially in you. He trusts you!!

Absence makes the heart grow fonder! He'll just write you tons and tons of letters until you return to him.

A letter for every day you're not with him, if you will. He'll label 'em and send them out a month before so you can slowly open them according to the days of the month

A bunch of inventions were made out of love! Wordle's creator made wordle for his wife, Halstead created surgical gloves for his wife!!

So what's stopping Alhaitham from making you the modern-day cellphone by using his knowledge of the akasha terminal?

Nothing. That's what.

Just let this man love okay

a/n: wow i feel so weird posting my writing again i do not like the jitters,, sorry for any mistakes too! wow its been some time since i've written

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

getting hit with the homoerotic memories of your vessel be like

⌗︙・ sneaking off with caelus for quickies ♡⸝⸝

Caelus is sometimes too horny for his own good, golden eyes filled with nothing but debaucherous visions as he undresses you with his eyes. When he wasn't fighting alongside you or running around completing missions left and right, he'd come up with some half-assed excuse regarding the Antimatter Legion before dragging you off to some unoccupied corner and fulfilling his lewd fantasies. He was a pure menace, groping your ass from behind just out of view from the others, frustrating you to no end when he refused to touch you any further. Not at least until you found an opportunity to sneak off.

But you were no saint, not with how you sloppily drooled all over his cock as he fucked your throat, or how eagerly you'd grind down onto his pelvis as you rode him in the privacy of your room. But who could blame you for acting in such a desperate way? Caelus' cock was just so good, fat head and length pressing against your walls in all the right ways that had you cumming rather embarrassingly quickly. He'd always cum in thick, creamy globs that painted your insides white and left your belly feeling warm and heavy. He was a fast learner, learning each of your weak spots with a scarily quick eagerness that left you breathless.

So it wasn't really too much of a surprise with how often you snuck away on missions just to fuck in some unlit alleyway.

"They're probably looking for us... I bet they're worried since we've been gone for a while. " You huff, raising your head to look at Caelus, his face mere inches from yours. He takes a gulp of air before nodding in agreement, no doubt having the same concern as you.

"Yeah... March is probably dragging Dan Heng by the ear. We should really hurry up." His brow furrows, looking simultaneously troubled and amused at the thought of the former dragging around the stoic male as if he were some sort of rag doll.

Even if the two of you are sharing the same concern, it was clearly juxtaposed by neither one of you making the effort to wrap up your little activity as quickly as possible. Although, little activity was a bit of a damn understatement when you had Caelus' cock sheathed inside your hole, back against the dingy wall of the alleyway as he moves his hips against yours over and over. Your arms and legs are locked around his body, doing your best to keep from falling and sliding down the wall. But Caelus has a good grip on your ass—he's a lot stronger than he looks—and his hips sure aren't going to be slowing down anytime soon.

"Fuuuck, s'so deep, so fucking good.." You whine into his neck, biting back a moan as his balls smack noisily against your skin. He's got so much vigor in each of his thrusts, pelvis pressed as close as possible to yours in such a confined position. You don't know how long the two of you have been at this, but you know it's long enough to have his cum leaking out, staining the ground below in gooey droplets. "Fuck me—ooh!—right there, right there, fuck me harder—oh god!"

Caelus chokes out a moan—you were so fucking tight—sucking in a shaky breath as he continues to pound into you. "Didn't you just tell me to hurry up? What changed your mind? Do you like my dick that much?" You can hear the smirk in his voice, though it wavers with each flutter and pulsing of your walls around his length. God he was such a little shit.

"Just shut up already.." You slam your lips against his without warning, moaning in a mix of relief and ecstasy. He makes a slight noise of surprise, but, given how often you'd dodge his postcoital affections, you don't blame him. But right now, you could care less if he happens to get to the wrong idea about you kissing him—or perhaps, a small part of you deep down wants Caelus to get the wrong idea.

The two of you melt into the kiss, teeth gnashing noisily and tongues entangling and rubbing up against one another as you both cling onto each other. Soon, drool begins to streak across your lips and chin—fuck, kissing Caelus felt so damn good, why didn't you do it before?—as warm pressure builds up in your lower stomach. His plush tip keeps pushing up against your oversensitive walls, the pulsing veins on the side of his cock stimulating you further and further.

But soon the lack of oxygen proves to be too much, and the messy kiss is broken apart. Strings of saliva stick to your tongue, but a bolt of pleasure shoots through you and you rest your head against the wall of the alley. With your neck exposed to him, you whine his name over and over like a chant, his entire being overwhelming you in waves.

"Caelus, Caelus, Caelus, Caelus...!"

Caelus' hips give a final thrust, the veins on his fat cock twitching and pulsing as he spills himself inside of your walls until even more droplets begin to ooze out. Reflexively, he immediately starts kissing your neck, mouth sloppily fitting against your rapid pulse, but this time you don't stop him. It feels ticklish, but surprisingly helping in lowering you from your high. He doesn't pull out until he's pumped out every last drop, although the way your walls calmp around him ends up squeezing out a few more drops anyways. You both shudder, the sudden emptiness in you and the lack of warmth around him a bit too much.

As if on cue, the cum that hadn't been oozing from your hole thanks to Caelus plugging you up nice and tight, now trickles out. A part of you is disappointed to not have it stay deep inside, but you're too out of it to do anything about it.

Your legs begin to slip, but Caelus seems to notice and aids in lowering you down. As soon as your feet touch the ground, you nearly double over but he catches you, choosing to lean you against him for support. With your head against his chest, you can feel the warmth of his body, each inhale and exhale he takes, and the beating of his heart.

The alleyway is filled with soft pants, concealed from any prying eyes. Like your own little world, just the two of you. It's... rather nice in a way.

"We're... we're gonna continue this when we get back to the Express, got it?" Of course you will. The two of you are as horny as rabbits, and quickies would only keep you both temporarily satisfied. But you could bet that if he found the opportunity, he'd sneak into your room. Again. "My back's killing me, I think you just scraped off my damn skin... I'd like my back to remain injury-free while getting dicked down thank you very much."

"Fine by me. I'd prefer to fuck you on your bed anyway." He snorts in amusement, a sliver of a smirk on his lips as he playfully squeezes your ass. You squeak and flinch at the ticklish sensation, to which he chuckles. "Not that I've got anything against doing this in an alleyway. It's actually kinda hot."

"Shut up and help me put my underwear back on."

© latimeriafellfromheaven