Genshin X Reader Fluff - Tumblr Posts
x : LUNCH BREAK :*+ﾟ
in which: you don't visit wriothesley during his lunch break after last night's argument, so he goes to the court of fontaine just to see you.
warnings: approx. 1.9k words, PURE FLUFF, gn!reader x pathetic and soppy and lovesick wriothesley, canon setting, reader works at the court of fontaine, post-argument so very minimal angst, probs not in character LOL
a/n: there's not a lot of content regarding fontaine or wriothesley rn so i apologise if this isn't completely in character. what i do not apologise for, however, is the urge to make him as lovesick as possible.
There is a notable tension in the Fortress of Meropide, and although a prison isn’t a place for rainbows and sunshine, today it feels especially devastating. It seems that the lord of the prison is the one responsible for it.
Brooding at his desk, Wriothesley glances occasionally at the clock on his desk, growing more and more impatient with each document he has to read through. He is waiting for something: a knock on his door. He is waiting for the call of his name, the reason for their interruption, then your name will reach his ears and an unmatched excitement will bloom in his chest. Then you’ll slip through the doors with lunch for two, he’ll pull out a chair for you right beside him, and mask professionalism that betrays the eagerness your presence always brings out.
Your absence must be because of the argument that happened last night. One that remained unresolved because he went to bed before you, too furious to try to talk it out. Yet, when Wriothesley woke in the morning, a wave of guilt washed over him when you weren’t pressed against him like usual. Instead, you were on the other side of the mattress, further than an arm’s length away whilst turned away from him and Fontaine’s chilly mornings had never felt colder.
If he didn’t need to go to work much earlier than you, he would have waited until you had woken up to leave, but being the lord of the Fortress of Meropide meant that his presence was demanded. So, with a lingering kiss to your cheek and then your temple, he leaves into the dewy mornings of Fontaine, looking forward to his lunch break that the two of you often share together.
Except now, lunch is almost over and there hasn’t been a knock on his door. No one has called his name- not people he cared about, at least. You haven’t slipped through the heavy set of doors. You haven’t come down from the Court of Fontaine to visit him, and Wriothesley’s patience is thinning.
His fingers itch with the need to hold you, to tuck you close to his chest and just keep you there for a few moments as time pass by. Especially after last night, Wriothesley needs you now more than ever.
By the time there’s only one hour left in the work day, he snaps. Stands up from his seat with an unmatched sense of fervour because of the unnervingly quiet day and snatches his coat from the hanger, leaving documents unread as he makes a beeline for the exit of the prison. The guards listen attentively to Wriothesley’s final commands for the day in his absence and once the information is cemented, the dark-haired is off without another second wasted.
You, on the other hand, sit in your office drowned in piles upon piles of papers. Wriothesley is a passing thought every now and then, the memories of last night’s harsh argument settling like weights in your stomach. You miss Wriothesley, very dearly, and all you want is to settle things with him. However, the image of his furious eyes and clenched jaw terrifies you beyond belief, you’re not even sure if he’ll be calmer by the time you get home, so for the first time ever, you dread the idea of going home.
What you are completely unaware of, however, is your lover that is storming your way, desperate to receive the medicine that will cure his moodiness and irritation.
The knock on your door distracts you from the piles of papers on your desk.
“Who is it?” you call out, voice reverberating around the spaciousness of your office.
“It’s Wriothesley, can I come in?” His tone is sharp and leaves no room for you to reject him, but the mere sound of his voice causes you to stiffen, grip on your pen tightening as the papers before you lay forgotten.
What is Wriothesley doing here? He normally never comes up to the Court of Fontaine just to see you because leaving the prison would be far too neglectful. There was also half an hour before he was done for the day, so could there be official business that needs to be discussed? Something urgent, perhaps?
If it was urgent, then why come to you and not Monsieur Neuvillette- or even Lady Furina?
“Yeah- yes, you can come in,” you mutter.
When the door clicks open, Wriothesley practically barges through, door shutting behind him as he marches towards you. Getting up from your chair, you’re frightened with anticipation due to how intense his stance is.
“Is something the matter?” You begin, panic seeping into your voice as he pauses before you, determination setting his eyes ablaze as he eyes you down like prey. “Wriothesley, you’re scaring me, did something happen at the prison-”
“Where were you at lunch?” He demands.
You blink. “Excuse me?”
“Why didn’t you come visit?”
“Is… is why you came up here? To ask why I didn’t visit you during lunch?”
He nods, expression stern as usual save for a small pout.
“I was swamped with work,” you half-lie, gesturing to the desk behind you and although there is clear evidence on your table through the form of stacked folders and paper, a storm of uncertainty brews in his blue eyes. “I couldn’t visit if I wanted to get these done, I apologise.”
The dark-haired frowns. “Is that it?”
“Yes. That’s all.” His eyebrows furrow, creating crease marks in his forehead that you want to kiss away, alleviating his worries, but you hold yourself back from doing so in fear that Wriothesley does not want you touching him.
However, a switch is flicked when Wriothesley’s stern expression softens, melting into one resembling a kicked dog. “So you’re not upset with me?”
“Oh, is that also on your mind?”
“Of course, I don’t like it when you’re upset with me,” your lover mutters, looking away bashfully to conceal the reddening of his cheeks. “You aren’t though, right?”
“No, not upset. Scared, maybe, but definitely not upset.”
His eyes are glossy when he looks back at you. “Scared, why are you scared?”
“W-we didn’t end on a good note last night,” you rub your wrist nervously. “I didn’t know if you would be happy with seeing me. On top of that, you can be really intimidating sometimes, so admittedly, I was a little scared to come see you just in case that you did not want me there.”
Wriothesley visually deflates with your last statement, shoulders dropping and eyes glistening as he murmurs a small, pathetic, “is that so?”
He wonders what part about him ever made it seem like he never wants you beside him, and the thought that he had frightened you enough to prevent you visiting him is an upsetting one. You must see it in his eyes with the way you frantically begin to explain yourself.
“Oh no, darling, I didn’t mean it like that-”
He turns his head away again, disappointed in himself. It’s one thing for his prisoners to consider him intimidating but it’s another for you, his own lover, to think so as well, and the thought that he had scared you creates insurmountable shame to swell within him. Yet, his whirlwind of anxieties ceases when your hand goes to cup his cheek, gently prompting him to look at you. Then, a kiss is pressed to the corner of his lips, and his heart skips a beat at the sensation, love blocking his airways when you pull away to smile up at him.
“As scary as you might be, oh great lord of the Fortress of Meropide, I also know you will never hurt me,” you reassure. “Rather, I feel safest when I’m around you, please never doubt that.”
Wriothesley sighs, hand snaking up to grip your waist and pull you closer to him. “Thank you, my love. But I beg, even if you assume I am upset with you, please keep visiting my office during lunch, it is the part of the day I look forward to most.”
“If that is your request then maybe you just need to be good and listen to me instead of arguing until your head pops off,” you tease, patting his face twice and he huffs before muttering an ‘understood’. Anything to see you. “Is there something else you need from my office?”
“No, just wanted to see you,” he looks at the brown paper bag in his hands. “I brought you lunch, just in case you didn’t eat.”
“Wriothesley,” you melt, “how thoughtful of you. I’ll make sure to eat it when I finish reading those contracts.”
“You should eat now, though. Don’t drown yourself in work, it’s not healthy.”
“I wish it were that easy, but these piles were dumped on my desk this morning and were assigned to be done by the end of the week.”
The hand that was on your waist comes up to gently hover over your cheek and Wriothesley studies you, icy eyes hardening due to the fatigue present in your expression. You grab his wrist, trying to diverge his attention, but you should know better than assuming that your wellbeing isn’t of utmost importance to him. “Unacceptable, I should have a word with your supervisor-”
“-no, no, Wriothesley! I insist, this is manageable.”
He frowns, deep and serious before surrendering to your pleas. “Fine, but if it doesn’t get better by the end of the week, then I will be interfering.”
“If you do so, my supervisor will be too scared to come in for a month,” you squeeze his wrist and gently guide it away from your face, ignorant to how your neglect for your own health hurts Wriothesley as well. He knows you love your job, but he still thinks that you deserve to live life carefree, that you should get everything you want without ever lifting a finger. “It’s alright, dear, you mustn’t worry about me when your work is a thousand times more stressful.”
“Impossible.” He worries about you every second of the day. Telling Wriothesley to stop fretting over you would be like telling him to stop breathing. “Now eat.”
You yelp when he pulls you towards your chair, sitting you down. From the paper bag, he takes out a sandwich, one that you recognise is from one of fontaine’s favourite cafés, and he carefully unwraps it before raising it to your mouth.
“Wriothesley… this is a little embarrassing,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around yourself.
He doesn’t say anything, just persistently stares at you, gaze intense enough for you to give in. As you lean in to take the first bite, you are bashfully looking away from your lover, who wears a pleased expression, satisfied with the fact that you’re letting him take care of you.
The tension from last night’s dispute hasn’t completely melted away, there are still things that need to be discussed calmly, but as you keep trying to push his hand away and battle Wriothesley’s indestructible stubbornness, he knows it will work out in the end. You love him and he loves you, and if you ever forget to visit him during lunch break again, then he’ll have to tear himself away from the prison and come up, just to meet you.
© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.
x : LUNCH BREAK :*+ﾟ
in which: you don't visit wriothesley during his lunch break after last night's argument, so he goes to the court of fontaine just to see you.
warnings: approx. 1.9k words, PURE FLUFF, gn!reader x pathetic and soppy and lovesick wriothesley, canon setting, reader works at the court of fontaine, post-argument so very minimal angst, probs not in character LOL
a/n: there's not a lot of content regarding fontaine or wriothesley rn so i apologise if this isn't completely in character. what i do not apologise for, however, is the urge to make him as lovesick as possible.
There is a notable tension in the Fortress of Meropide, and although a prison isn’t a place for rainbows and sunshine, today it feels especially devastating. It seems that the lord of the prison is the one responsible for it.
Brooding at his desk, Wriothesley glances occasionally at the clock on his desk, growing more and more impatient with each document he has to read through. He is waiting for something: a knock on his door. He is waiting for the call of his name, the reason for their interruption, then your name will reach his ears and an unmatched excitement will bloom in his chest. Then you’ll slip through the doors with lunch for two, he’ll pull out a chair for you right beside him, and mask professionalism that betrays the eagerness your presence always brings out.
Your absence must be because of the argument that happened last night. One that remained unresolved because he went to bed before you, too furious to try to talk it out. Yet, when Wriothesley woke in the morning, a wave of guilt washed over him when you weren’t pressed against him like usual. Instead, you were on the other side of the mattress, further than an arm’s length away whilst turned away from him and Fontaine’s chilly mornings had never felt colder.
If he didn’t need to go to work much earlier than you, he would have waited until you had woken up to leave, but being the lord of the Fortress of Meropide meant that his presence was demanded. So, with a lingering kiss to your cheek and then your temple, he leaves into the dewy mornings of Fontaine, looking forward to his lunch break that the two of you often share together.
Except now, lunch is almost over and there hasn’t been a knock on his door. No one has called his name- not people he cared about, at least. You haven’t slipped through the heavy set of doors. You haven’t come down from the Court of Fontaine to visit him, and Wriothesley’s patience is thinning.
His fingers itch with the need to hold you, to tuck you close to his chest and just keep you there for a few moments as time pass by. Especially after last night, Wriothesley needs you now more than ever.
By the time there’s only one hour left in the work day, he snaps. Stands up from his seat with an unmatched sense of fervour because of the unnervingly quiet day and snatches his coat from the hanger, leaving documents unread as he makes a beeline for the exit of the prison. The guards listen attentively to Wriothesley’s final commands for the day in his absence and once the information is cemented, the dark-haired is off without another second wasted.
You, on the other hand, sit in your office drowned in piles upon piles of papers. Wriothesley is a passing thought every now and then, the memories of last night’s harsh argument settling like weights in your stomach. You miss Wriothesley, very dearly, and all you want is to settle things with him. However, the image of his furious eyes and clenched jaw terrifies you beyond belief, you’re not even sure if he’ll be calmer by the time you get home, so for the first time ever, you dread the idea of going home.
What you are completely unaware of, however, is your lover that is storming your way, desperate to receive the medicine that will cure his moodiness and irritation.
The knock on your door distracts you from the piles of papers on your desk.
“Who is it?” you call out, voice reverberating around the spaciousness of your office.
“It’s Wriothesley, can I come in?” His tone is sharp and leaves no room for you to reject him, but the mere sound of his voice causes you to stiffen, grip on your pen tightening as the papers before you lay forgotten.
What is Wriothesley doing here? He normally never comes up to the Court of Fontaine just to see you because leaving the prison would be far too neglectful. There was also half an hour before he was done for the day, so could there be official business that needs to be discussed? Something urgent, perhaps?
If it was urgent, then why come to you and not Monsieur Neuvillette- or even Lady Furina?
“Yeah- yes, you can come in,” you mutter.
When the door clicks open, Wriothesley practically barges through, door shutting behind him as he marches towards you. Getting up from your chair, you’re frightened with anticipation due to how intense his stance is.
“Is something the matter?” You begin, panic seeping into your voice as he pauses before you, determination setting his eyes ablaze as he eyes you down like prey. “Wriothesley, you’re scaring me, did something happen at the prison-”
“Where were you at lunch?” He demands.
You blink. “Excuse me?”
“Why didn’t you come visit?”
“Is… is why you came up here? To ask why I didn’t visit you during lunch?”
He nods, expression stern as usual save for a small pout.
“I was swamped with work,” you half-lie, gesturing to the desk behind you and although there is clear evidence on your table through the form of stacked folders and paper, a storm of uncertainty brews in his blue eyes. “I couldn’t visit if I wanted to get these done, I apologise.”
The dark-haired frowns. “Is that it?”
“Yes. That’s all.” His eyebrows furrow, creating crease marks in his forehead that you want to kiss away, alleviating his worries, but you hold yourself back from doing so in fear that Wriothesley does not want you touching him.
However, a switch is flicked when Wriothesley’s stern expression softens, melting into one resembling a kicked dog. “So you’re not upset with me?”
“Oh, is that also on your mind?”
“Of course, I don’t like it when you’re upset with me,” your lover mutters, looking away bashfully to conceal the reddening of his cheeks. “You aren’t though, right?”
“No, not upset. Scared, maybe, but definitely not upset.”
His eyes are glossy when he looks back at you. “Scared, why are you scared?”
“W-we didn’t end on a good note last night,” you rub your wrist nervously. “I didn’t know if you would be happy with seeing me. On top of that, you can be really intimidating sometimes, so admittedly, I was a little scared to come see you just in case that you did not want me there.”
Wriothesley visually deflates with your last statement, shoulders dropping and eyes glistening as he murmurs a small, pathetic, “is that so?”
He wonders what part about him ever made it seem like he never wants you beside him, and the thought that he had frightened you enough to prevent you visiting him is an upsetting one. You must see it in his eyes with the way you frantically begin to explain yourself.
“Oh no, darling, I didn’t mean it like that-”
He turns his head away again, disappointed in himself. It’s one thing for his prisoners to consider him intimidating but it’s another for you, his own lover, to think so as well, and the thought that he had scared you creates insurmountable shame to swell within him. Yet, his whirlwind of anxieties ceases when your hand goes to cup his cheek, gently prompting him to look at you. Then, a kiss is pressed to the corner of his lips, and his heart skips a beat at the sensation, love blocking his airways when you pull away to smile up at him.
“As scary as you might be, oh great lord of the Fortress of Meropide, I also know you will never hurt me,” you reassure. “Rather, I feel safest when I’m around you, please never doubt that.”
Wriothesley sighs, hand snaking up to grip your waist and pull you closer to him. “Thank you, my love. But I beg, even if you assume I am upset with you, please keep visiting my office during lunch, it is the part of the day I look forward to most.”
“If that is your request then maybe you just need to be good and listen to me instead of arguing until your head pops off,” you tease, patting his face twice and he huffs before muttering an ‘understood’. Anything to see you. “Is there something else you need from my office?”
“No, just wanted to see you,” he looks at the brown paper bag in his hands. “I brought you lunch, just in case you didn’t eat.”
“Wriothesley,” you melt, “how thoughtful of you. I’ll make sure to eat it when I finish reading those contracts.”
“You should eat now, though. Don’t drown yourself in work, it’s not healthy.”
“I wish it were that easy, but these piles were dumped on my desk this morning and were assigned to be done by the end of the week.”
The hand that was on your waist comes up to gently hover over your cheek and Wriothesley studies you, icy eyes hardening due to the fatigue present in your expression. You grab his wrist, trying to diverge his attention, but you should know better than assuming that your wellbeing isn’t of utmost importance to him. “Unacceptable, I should have a word with your supervisor-”
“-no, no, Wriothesley! I insist, this is manageable.”
He frowns, deep and serious before surrendering to your pleas. “Fine, but if it doesn’t get better by the end of the week, then I will be interfering.”
“If you do so, my supervisor will be too scared to come in for a month,” you squeeze his wrist and gently guide it away from your face, ignorant to how your neglect for your own health hurts Wriothesley as well. He knows you love your job, but he still thinks that you deserve to live life carefree, that you should get everything you want without ever lifting a finger. “It’s alright, dear, you mustn’t worry about me when your work is a thousand times more stressful.”
“Impossible.” He worries about you every second of the day. Telling Wriothesley to stop fretting over you would be like telling him to stop breathing. “Now eat.”
You yelp when he pulls you towards your chair, sitting you down. From the paper bag, he takes out a sandwich, one that you recognise is from one of fontaine’s favourite cafés, and he carefully unwraps it before raising it to your mouth.
“Wriothesley… this is a little embarrassing,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around yourself.
He doesn’t say anything, just persistently stares at you, gaze intense enough for you to give in. As you lean in to take the first bite, you are bashfully looking away from your lover, who wears a pleased expression, satisfied with the fact that you’re letting him take care of you.
The tension from last night’s dispute hasn’t completely melted away, there are still things that need to be discussed calmly, but as you keep trying to push his hand away and battle Wriothesley’s indestructible stubbornness, he knows it will work out in the end. You love him and he loves you, and if you ever forget to visit him during lunch break again, then he’ll have to tear himself away from the prison and come up, just to meet you.
© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.
GENSHIN BOYS WITH AN AUTISTIC S/O HEADCANONS (INAZUMA BOYS)⚡️
character(s) — ayato, thoma, heizou, kazuha, itto, gorou
reader’s gender is not specified, nor is their race. I always try to make my fanfics as inclusive as possible
tw/cw — none ig, lemme know if there are any
note(s) — I made this as an autistic person, however this may not include like every trait of someone with autism if that makes sense. PLS DON’T USE THIS FANFIC TO SELF DIAGNOSE URSELF WITH AUTISM, it’s important to get professionally diagnosed due to overlapping symptoms
AYATO
sadly he’s usually busy with being the head of the yashiro commission so he can’t spend as much time with u as he would like to
if u have certain comfort foods? he’s defo asking his maids to make the highest quality version of said food
you stim? he’s ok with that, it doesn’t bother him at all, as long as ur happy. if u want him to he will get you fidget toys
you have hyperfixations? tell him about them, he may not seem like he’s listening whilst he’s signing some documents from other clans, but he is listening to ever single thing ur saying, he’s a very observant guy
his sister loves u and is fully understanding of ur different behaviours, she actually thinks it makes you very unique. whenever ayato is not around due to his work, ayaka is always available for stuff you need too, she’s always happy to help her future sibling in law :))
thoma is also very supportive of you, all of your needs will be met as soon as you ask for them. he sees you as a good friend, so dw about being a burden, he loves u as a brother would
you struggle to make eye contact? that is a ok, ayato doesn’t mind, he knows that ur still listening to him, he refuses to force you to make eye contact with him if it makes you uncomfortable
don’t like large crowded areas? perfect! he doesn’t really like crowded areas himself due to all the attention that’s on him due to his high status, he knows the perfect places in inazume where there are no people
don’t like loud noises? that’s ok too, he will make sure to buy you noise cancelling headphones just in case you need them at any time
one time another clan group came over to his to deal business, and when they noticed you avoiding eye contact and fidgeting with ur hands, they made a snide comment on how you were acting weirdly
safe to say ayato refuses their deal, no one talks to his partner like that and gets away with it Scott free
don’t worry, he comforted you straight after they were gone from ur sights, he even made sure his day after was free so he could spend it with u <33
THOMA
this malewife is just the absolute perfect boyfie to have that’ll be so accepting and understanding of ur autism
sometimes he will ask questions about certain things, u don’t have to answer them tho, he just wants to understand a bit further in depth so he can support you as best as he can
if u ever get overstimulated for whatever reason, he will grab tomaramura for u to cuddle with or just to be there for emotionel support (forgot how to spell the dogs name) (ignore this if ur allergic to dogs)
if u can’t make eye contact he won’t mind, he just wants u to be as comfy as possible around him
if u have comfort foods don’t worry at all, like this man’s got u covered, he’s the best chef tbh, man can cook. he doesn’t care if it’s simple or the most complicated thing to make, he will make it
u have hyperfixations? he loves to hear about them, u can swear he has love hearts in his eyes whenever you talk about what you love
in return, he will talk about the animals that he helps look after, even shows you some of the clothes he’s knitting them🥺
don’t like loud crowded areas? that’s fine, he doesn’t mind a nice walk on the beachside when it’s quiet and peaceful
if ur clingy he lives for that, like hug him all you want, he doesn’t mind. he’s cooking? u can hug him, he’s cleaning? hug him, he can multitask
if anyone ever makes fun of you or belittles u for being autistic, you swear that thoma becomes a different person alltogether, like- where’d ur man go?
dw after he’s done with them he will comfort you sm, cuddles, kisses n anything else u need, he’s on it <33
HEIZOU
at first, he’s not the best with knowing what to do or how to support you, but throughout the relationship he gets way better at understanding you
if ur unable to understand sarcasm, don’t worry, he will let you know if he’s being sarcastic or not, if u want him to tell u that is
doesn’t mind if ur clingy, he lives for that shit. cling to him all u want, he just basks in it, he’s also quite clingy at times, so he appreciates it being reciprocated
if u don’t like loud crowded areas, he’ll try his best to take you places where it’s more quiet or less people are around. if he’s unable to do so, he will just drag you throughout the city until you find a nice quiet spot to relax
if u have certain comfort foods he will buy them when he can, he’s not the best cook, but he’ll try his best when he does cook
if u don’t like making eye contact he’s fine with that too, he can still talk to you and you can still talk to him so what’s the problem?
have hyperfixations? great, he does too. sometimes you guys just end up talking about ur hyperfixations and when u realise the time it’s already night time somehow
one time you were attacked by some samurai cause they thought you were an easy target, safe to say that heizou literally kicked their asses for you :))
KAZUHA
when u tell him ur autistic, he just lightly smiles and says “I know love, the wind already told me”
he always knows whenever ur overstimulated, u don’t have to say/do anything, he has it covered
hate loud noises? if ur on the crux ship then kazuha will ask beidou if the crew and her could possibly keep it down a notch
hate crowded places? he has the perfect spots where only the wind resides, they’re always so calming as well
if u have comfort foods then he will make them or buy them when possible
don’t worry if u can’t make eye contact, he’s totally chill with it, doesn’t bother him at all
if ur clingy he’s fine with that too, you can cling to him as much as you would like and he won’t bat an eye
if u have hyperfixations he will just sit down and listen to them, he can listen to them for hours no matter what
one time a new crew member poked fun at you for your autism, safe to say that they were no longer a crew member the next day
even tho beidou is pretty boisterous and loud, she always tries her best to tone down her tone when speaking with you, she has a small soft spot for you and often buys you ur comfort foods when she has extra mora <33
ARATAKI ITTO
this himbo oni loves you for who you are, like he doesn’t care you have autism, he still thinks ur the coolest person ever, however ur still numero dos, he’s numero uno
whenever ur feeling overstimulated he will get out ushi and let you cuddle with him, if not then he can just be there for emotional support
whenever he has his gang around he always asks them to tone it down just a notch if ur also there, he doesn’t like to be the cause of ur discomfort
clingy asf, like if ur clingy he’s like so happy, hugs for days, kisses for days, just fluffy shenanigans all day
whenever you start stimming he copies you, not in a mean way, he actually enjoys stimming with you, if you want him to of course, if not then he’ll just annoy kuki or sum
one time a member of the tenryo commission made fun of you... safe to say you and kuki had to bust him out of jail again
speaking of kuki she is like amazing with you, very supportive and is the one to go to when ittos not around and up to his shenanigans
have comfort foods? he will buy them when he can, can’t buy them often since he and the gang are sadly broke
talking about ur hyperfixations all day? talking about ur hyperfixations all day :) u and him will both take turns talking about ur current hyperfixations
he’s trying his best ok <33
GOROU
best emotional support dog/hj
when ur feeling overstimulated u don’t have to say anything, he will sense ur overstimulated and cuddle you if you want, he will also let u play with his ears and tail if desired
won’t take for you being picked on by anyone that resides on watatsumi island, he wil give them a very stern talking to, and he’s a general so he can be quite strict when he needs to be
if ur clingy he is too, case solved. no but srs, he’s a dog boy, what did u expect? whenever u guys hug you can hear his tail wagging and thuming on whateverur sitting on
have comfort foods? not to worry, he’s on the case, he will cook for you, don’t test him, cause he will no matter what!
doesn’t mind if u can’t make eye contact, sometimes even he struggles to make eye contact, and he’s a general!
sadly because of his job as a general of an army oftentimes he’s unable to really see you or spend lots of time with you, so when he does have time off you guys make the most of it by spending as much time together as possible
in short, he’s an amazing boyfie who won’t hesitate to receive and give affection when possible <33
content belongs to @huboi on tumblr, DO NOT REPOST ON ANY SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORMS WHATSOEVER
As We Are, We Will Be
Summary: A nonsensical question is proposed in one singular moment between a stoic and stoic face in one singular universe.
Word Count: 9k (It was supposed to be short and sweet-)
Tags: Alhaitham X Fem! Reader, Smut, NSFW, Fluff, a lot of fluff, slight angst, soulmate au, slow fic, established relationship, married life, Soft! Alhaitham, attempts at comedy, mentions of aging, slightly jealous! Alhaitham, mutual pinning, soft sex, vanilla, safe sex (wrap it up), fingering, really bad expatiations of scientific theories and math, just two nerds in love.
Authors Note: Happy belated birthday and Valentine's Day to my favorite dendro nerd. A continuation of this piece, one I hold dear. A thought experiment based on nothing more than the feverish delirium of love.
It was just for a moment.
A mere pasting instance in the contentious momentum of time when a glimmer caught your eyes in the muddled chatter of a crowd, a silver shimmer like starlight.
Interrupting your contemplation as your eyes impulsively search for the source.
A late morning on a Saturday, the markets and stalls were lively with families replenishing a week's worth of groceries. Bodies veering and easing through the bustle of the busty streets.
The wide breadth of life that moved all around you. Like a collection of small dots within the vastness of a universe.
But amid the vast collection of blurry faces were the flicker of silvery locks refracting the late morning light. Originating from a pair, an elderly lady and an elderly man, their aged hands intertwined.
Time had made her marks upon them, and gravity had pulled down on their wrinkled faces. Yet, the ends of their lips were pointed toward the sky. The corners of their eyes wrinkled as their gazes held each other's faces.
From their view, do they not see the starlight hue of their hair? Instead, do they still see the vibrancy and youth of their locks which age had stolen from them?
The image of each other reflected in their irises, was it from a time before the hands of gravity pulled on their creased skin and bowed bones? Would you ever be able to find out?
“I wasn’t aware you had a hobby of people-watching.” A baritone voice ghosts over your ear.
Jolting your head to your right, you come face to face with the interruption. Or perhaps, your mind finally registered Alhaitham’s presence just off to the side of you. His arms were weighted down with various bags.
Oh, that’s right, the markets and stalls were lively on the weekend with families restocking groceries for the upcoming week. You and Alhaitham were no different.
Glancing up at his ashen trestles and then scanning back at the starlight locks of the elderly couple, and then back to your husband.
“Hmm, not quite. Just noting the fact your hair is the same color as an old man’s, Haitham.” You catch the subtle twitch of his brow.
“Is that so? I hope you are aware you’re not immune to the inevitably of aging, wife,” Alhaitham returns your jest.
“Well, with your hair color and grumpiness, I’d say you’re already halfway there.”
“I needn’t expound on your equivalent levels of grumpiness, it won’t be long before your locks share the same ashen hue.”
“I guess that’s why we get along then, dear husband.”
“That’s one theory,” he huffs, a simple tone lacking any bite.
You pan your face back toward the crowd, partly because it’s getting harder to hold the neutral position of your lips, partly because your curiosity aches for an untold conclusion.
However, when your gaze returned to the ever-bustling sea of people, the pair of starlight hues were nowhere to be found. It was regrettable, but expected, the elderly couple were nothing more than a pair of strangers in a crowd full of unfamiliar faces.
They were just a brief scene that disappeared into the moving tides of people.
Leaving you with your unresolved musings.
“Is there anything else we need for the week?”
Alhaitham’s voice reels your consciousness back, swiftly you check the crinkled slip of parchment within your hand. Scanning down the list of written items, all with a neat little line crossed through their immaculately penned letters.
“It looks like we got everything we need.” You tuck the list into your pocket.
“Then it’s best we get home before our groceries are spoiled by the heat.” Alhaitham readjusts the bags in his hands.
A hum takes its place as your response. Pivoting your body in the direction of your shared home. From the corner of your field of view, his strides were paced to coincide with your shorter steps.
Studying the numerous bags occupying his hands, you can’t help but think it’s quite convenient to have someone as robust as your husband. Maybe it's these weekly grocery runs that are the secret behind his physique.
Discreetly, your hand slowly slips between the gap of his arm and body, linking your elbows together. So that your frame and his could withstand the push and pull of the crowd’s contentious momentum.
The neutrality of your lips had long slipped away, softened by the familiarity of his warmth. Even as your eyes were pointed on the path ahead, you had an inkling that a similar occurrence was mirrored on his lips as well.
An inquiry your curiosity didn’t need to peek to resolve.
That ache for an untold conclusion morphed into a new musing by the afternoon.
The silver shimmer from that elderly couple’s hair truly was like starlight. Perhaps that’s the correlation that steered your thoughts down this winding path of pondering.
Everyone, from those taking their first stumbling steps of youth to the slowed cane-assisted tramps in their golden years, is technically billions of years old. Or more accurately, the atoms and minerals in everyone are billions of years old.
The carbon in muscles, the calcium in bones, and the iron in blood were all forged in the hearts of bygone stars. When those bright beacons burned out they exploded in one last finale, expelling those materials across interstellar space. Stardust that found its way here.
Here within you, and here within the slow breaths of the man in front of you.
After being around for billions of years, does stardust ever get exhausted?
That would be a sensible explanation for why Alhaitham had snuck away amidst hanging up freshly washed laundry.
His tall frame stretched the expanse of the couch as his starlight lashes were shut, shamelessly relishing in a nap under the streams of sunlight trickled in from the window.
Squatting down you observe the guiltless expression plastered over his resting face, still deep in the trenches of sleep, a small huff passes through your lips. Well, this morning you did have him carry all the groceries from the market back home.
Your husband does deserve this little nap.
Trailing your eyes down his neck you note the lack of a pillow, then as your gaze travels further you note the absence of a blanket as well. Internally, your mind tsks at this forgetful habit of his.
Although his body and yours still have youth coursing through your veins, it doesn’t mean they’ll remain as impervious as they are now later down the line, especially if preventative measures aren’t taken.
Like having a pillow to support one’s neck, or a blanket to prevent chills from plaguing the body.
Standing back to full height, you retrieved the missing artifacts, returning with a plush pillow and light comforter.
Even when his head was momentarily lifted to make space for the pillow, and when the spare comforter was draped over him, Alhaitham didn’t stir one bit. At times you can’t determine if he’s a light sleeper or if his stubbornness refuses to leave the plain of dreams.
It’s a true wonder of life how Alhaitham’s able to sleep so soundly at night given his extensive naps.
The vivid sunlight illuminated patterns upon his cheeks and trestles, causing the ashen strands to dazzle in their refraction of the afternoon light. A sight your eyes just couldn’t help but be enraptured by.
Maybe you could blame the warmth of the sunlight, or maybe the serenity of this quiet Saturday afternoon, or perhaps even these fickle inquiries about his naps for the yawn that left your lips. Now might be the prime time for some research.
Lifting up the comforter just enough for an opportunity to slip through, your body settles in the space right against his. It’s crowded on the couch, the cushions unprepared for two bodies to occupy its entirety, the open edge looming against your back.
Even after all the shuffling and pressing against his dozing frame, your husband didn’t budge a bit.
Leaden lashes still shut and lips set in that all too familiar line, chest rhythmically rising and falling in time with yours. The very image of unperturbedness under the blessing of sleep.
“You really are like an old man.”
At that mere jab, the corners of his lips tugged down while his eyes remained closed. A quick slip that confirmed your earlier suspicions.
“Who knew you were so talented in acting, Haitham,” you snicker.
A muscular arm soon enveloped your form, further pressing you against his chest as if to silence any more sardonic quips from entering his ears.
It was quite the challenge to stifle those giggles before they could erupt from your lips. Peeking up, there’s an ever-so-subtle lift at the corners of his mouth. An express which yours mirrored.
Studying the details of the lips just a breath away, a new musing worms its way into your thoughts:
When the hands of gravity and time start to pull down on his skin and yours the same, leaving wrinkles and creases in their wake, will the edges of his lips still curl like this?
Would yours mirror the same?
A second yawn sneaks past your lips as your lashes grow heavier with each fluttering blink. Claiming a corner of the pillow to lay your head upon, the seconds between each subsequent blink grew longer and longer until your lids were too heavy to lift.
Perhaps the stardust in your bones was exhausted, craving a short rest in his warmth.
--------------------------------
There’s something against your back and your legs are tangled in something, sensations which gradually alert your dozing sense back from the fog of slumber.
At first, you only had the strength to peek open one lid, then promptly shut it. But in the nothingness behind your eyelids, something was halting your limps from stretching the weariness out from themselves.
You tried again, this time fluttering both sets of lashes apart ever so slightly. There’s a dry film coating your throat and mouth, feeling the impressions of the couch cushions and bundled comforter imprinted into your skin.
What time was it?
Blinking away the haze of sleep just enough to notice how the golden rays of a star were missing. A gray overlay was plastered over the living room despite the ticking clock hands displaying that it was late afternoon.
Peering back through the window behind, observing the congregating insipid clouds blocking out the azure sky.
A sure sign of rain despite the morning forecast. Rain… wasn’t there something left unfinished on the clotheslines outside? The groggy recollection of responsibilities creeps into the forefront of your mind.
The reign of your weary limbs slowly returns, and your legs languidly attempt to stretch out from the reveal they were caught in. However, their movements only caused a pair of longer limbs to ensnarl them further.
Alhaitham’s legs promptly caught yours, stifling any prospect of escape.
Your displeased whine was responded with a disgruntled groan by the man keeping your body locked against his.
Wasn’t your back looming just about the edge of the couch when you fell asleep? So why are you in this position now?
Your body wedged between the plush backing of the couch and his solid frame, the comforter swaddling you also didn’t aid in your immobility. Brawny arm draped over your waist, halting your feeble squirms at freedom.
“The laundry,” you mumble.
“Later.” A blunt interjection from a groggy voice.
“It’s going to rain.”
“Less than a 30% chance.”
“Haitham…”
Your husband simply burrows his head deeper into the leveled pillow, likely an attempt to leverage the cushy material to block out your grievances. His ashen lashes still stubbornly shut, much to your displeasure.
“Alhaitham.”
No fluctuations in your volume nor tone, but it was enough for one teal eye to peek out from under ashen lashes. Trailing up to a subtle frown to the furrow between your brow, then finally meeting your unamused stare.
“Laundry,” you try again.
A silent stare down, one stone face gazing upon an equally stoic face, like an immovable object pressed against an equally immovable object.
Which one will defend their title of most stubborn today?
His chest expands with a deep breath, grasp enclosing around your waist before his teal gaze shamelessly vanishes behind closed lashes. Robust frame pinning you further to the back of the couch as he continues to ignore your huffy floundering.
“Release me, don’t you dare-”
Your grievance was soon muffled by a gentle hand pressing your cheek into his palatial chest. A move that stupefies the irksomeness bubbling within until it falls defeated into placidness.
“Whether it be now or later, they’ll be clean regardless, it’s quite comfortable right here.” The resonance of his voice vibrates in his chest.
You respond with a humbled grunt. In terms of strength you’d always lose to your feeble husband, wouldn’t you?
There’s no point in peering up, for the pleased satisfaction of his resting face would bring a sour taste to your tongue. Thus, you merely adjust your limbs, coiling your arms around to his back and pulling his form closer.
It’s crowded on the couch, it’ll be troublesome if Alhaitham were to slip off the edge if his back were to stray any further.
At this distance, entangled so closely together, the soft beats of his heart in time with yours like a rhythmic lullaby beckons the heavy to return to your eyelids.
The gentle drumming of his heartbeat coaxes out a final sigh from you, lashes descending down as your vision dims back into the realm of slumber.
Slow breaths and heartbeats homogenize into a tender duet, tranquil enough to distract from the sporadic pattering against the glass and gradually increase in consistency.
A less than 30% chance of rain doesn’t mean that there’s a greater than 70% chance of no rain. It’s merely a statistical probability of 0.01 units of more precipitation at a given area in the given forecast area in the time period specified.
Known as the precipitation probability, calculated based on two factors:
The forecaster's certainty that precipitation will form or move into the area X The areal coverage of precipitation that is expected, then multiplied by 100.
Thus, if the forecaster were 90% certain that 30% of the forecast area would receive rain, then the forecast displayed on screens would read as a 27% chance of rain.
A crucial bit of information that seemed to have slipped his mind midst a quiet afternoon.
A troublesome miscalculation Alhaitham tsks at internally as he wrings out the pillowcase into a sink before tossing it back into the washing machine. Button-down shirts and blouses, wrinkled from the process of twisting out as much rainwater as possible, sat in damp piles awaiting their turn to be rewashed.
As he measures out the detergent he can hear the rattles and clanks of the pot and pans from the kitchen. A late dinner in preparation, a task which was supposed to be his this week.
When he woke up to the pattering of rain drumming against the window panes, the afternoon long gone, it stirred an ever-so-sinking pit of dread. Second only to the unamused stare of his wife as she replicated an overconfident statement:
“Less than a 30% chance, Alhaitham?”
How unfortunate it all was, that the area where this quaint house resides was part of that 30% of the forecasted area.
Teal eyes watch the bedsheets whirl and fumble as they spin in the wash, contemplating the circumstance and further action.
There is only one spare bedding set in the closet, so it’d be wise to allow you to have it for tonight as all the sheets and covers get rewashed and dried.
Your bed is about the same size as his, so two bodies wouldn’t have an issue fitting. At this rate, the two of you just slept in whichever bed was the most convenient.
However, given the current state of things, Alhaitham wonders if he should prepare himself to brave tonight on his bare mattress with a flimsy spare blanket and pillow.
He might as well return to the couch for tonight if that was the case.
The accumulation of all the years of science, mathematics, and research, Alhaitham wonders if there was ever a bright mind who came up with a formula to calculate how displeased one’s wife is.
What would be the factors plugged into the equation? And how accurate would it be?
More specifics needed to be gathered, something the man couldn’t do in the refugee of the laundry room. Thus, Alhaitham must brave a journey into the kitchen. His slipper-clad footsteps are slow and methodical as the kitchen appears from around the corner of the hallway.
Sights honed in on your back as you stood by the stove, a rich aroma wafting through the air.
Sleep still dusted your hair, evident in the few unruly strands sticking up erratically on your head, you made no attempt at fixing it. One hand is too occupied with stirring the pot on the stove, and the other set upon your hip.
Your stance wasn’t exactly tipping the scales in his favor.
Cautiously, Alhaitham made his way to you. Stopping just a few paces as your eyes peer over your shoulder, stoic gaze halting him in place just a few paces away. The faded imprint of the crumpled blankets and couch cushions on your cheek.
His hand twitches with the urge to run his thumb along the impressions, but rationally warns him of the consequences.
“The laundry?” No discernable tone in your voice.
“Everything has been collected and wrung out, I’ll rewash everything tomorrow.” It’s best to answer your questions this time.
“Hmm, they were out in the rain for quite a while now. They were dripping out onto the floor when you brought them in.”
“I’ve mopped away any rain and mud tracked between the back door and laundry room.” Teal eyes quickly checked the aforementioned area to ensure they were pristine before returning to you.
“Hmm.” You turn back towards the stove.
The soft ticks of the clock accompany the waning drums of raindrops against the glass, the kitchen hood whirring as a ladle continues to stir in a pot. A quiet lull engulfed the home. Treading on the side of caution, Alhaitham inhales deeply.
Without opening the box, one will never be able to confirm to fate of Schrödinger's cat.
“What’s for dinner?”
“Hmm? Well, it’s raining tonight, what better to eat on a rainy night than some Sabz Meat Stew, no?”
He’s careful to not sigh too audibly, lest he goes to bed with a stomach half-full of instant noodles and that miffed stare of yours.
Alhaitham decides to hold his tongue as teal eyes continue to watch you add more spices to the pot. Studying how nicely the apron is tied around your waist.
But it wouldn’t be wise of him to stand so close when the fabric of his shirt was still damp with rainwater transferred to him by the soaked laundry and sky.
His chain of thought was interrupted by the chimes of your phone on the countertop, catching your eyes as well as his to peek at the over. A certain name is displayed across the screen. It’s as if the hands of fate wanted to throw more salt into his face.
Bahram (Manager)
It’s a Saturday night, for what reason would an employer need to contact an employee so late?
Alhaitham’s focus shifts to your gaze which is still honed in on the screen. A bitter tinge crawls up the tip of his tongue, threatening to spoil his appetite. Perhaps, he wouldn’t mind settling down in his bare bed with just a spare comforter without dinner tonight.
“Can you reject the call for me? He can wait until Monday to get me to resolve whatever he messed up,” you scoff before rolling your eyes back to the stove.
Swiftly he swipes to decline the call, let your voicemail remind Bahram of the concept of ‘off time’. The phone whirs again right after the first rejection, but he simply swipes decline again.
Pushing the device away with a bit too much satisfaction in his veins.
Glancing back at your frame, he lets out a sigh as he relents. Resting his head into the crook of your neck, careful to leave a bit of distance between your bodies and to not hamper your shoulder’s movement.
“Hm?” You hum expectantly.
“It was my oversight tonight.” A string of words a bit unfamiliar on his tongue, but stubbornness hasn’t been in his favor tonight.
“And?”
“I’ll be more cautious regarding naps.”
“Hmph.”
The lull returns, him resting his head on your shoulder and you continuing to watch over the stew. Teal eyes on you and your eyes on the stove. Until your shoulders raise with a deep inhale.
“Go get changed out of that wet shirt then set the table, this bastardized version of ‘soup’ will be ready in 20 minutes.” You reach for a skillet just off to the side.
He hums this time, the liberation from treading in suffocating lull tugs at the end of his lips. He surmises that laying his head against you for a few moments more won’t be so consequential.
The patter of raindrops still splattered against the glass panes of the window, drops which warped and blurred the scenery beyond the glass. Not that there’s any scenery to look at, not with the dreary clouds crowding the sky.
A heavy sigh huffs through your nose, curling onto your side as you adjust your pillow.
A filling dinner, a warm shower, and soft comforters. Factors that should contribute to a restful night’s sleep, or at the very least make your eyelids weary with the weight of lethargy.
Yes, perhaps those components should’ve granted you entry into the reprieve of a dream.
If it wasn’t for the fact you’ve intruded into the domain of slumber twice already today.
And the tempter who lured you to do so currently has his arm wrapped around your waist.
Alhaitham’s chest rises and falls against your back, soundly asleep without an ounce of guilt over the predicament he’s partly responsible for.
Lifting your head off the flattened pillow, your body twists around to fluff the stale stuffing back up before settling back to your position.
His body rested against yours just as it would any other night. But there’s a weight at the corners of your lips, one only grew heavier as your ears witnessed each content exhale resounding from the man who seemingly stole your sleep.
If you were crueler, you would’ve exiled Alhaitham to the couch or his barren mattress.
However, he’d probably sleep just fine regardless.
Canting your head up, you flip your pillow to the other side once more.
Your rolls and rhythm were abruptly interrupted by the clasp of two harsh hands pulling your hips into his, the contours of his rigor now digging into the plush of your ass. Forcing a stunned gasp up your throat.
“It seems like my wife has quite a bit of energy.” His timbre deeper from grogginess.
Ah, all the twisting and turning you did just to adjust the troublesome pillow must've disturbed him.
The softness of your ass cradled against his pelvis through the thin material of a button-down, an item borrowed from his closet that you’ve designated as sleepwear, and his sweatpants.
‘Serves him right.’
Your attempts to twist out from his iron-clad hold only ground your ass more against the stiffness, earning a grumble from his lips.
“Oh? And who’s fault is it?” You retort, still protesting in his hold.
Snaking one hand downwards Alhaitham presses against your lower stomach to arch your ass further into him. Leaning his face closer to yours.
“Do you want me to take responsibility?” His whisper ghosts over the shell of your ear.
You could feel the pads of his fingertips tracing under the loose button-down.
“Shouldn’t you resolve the issues you’ve caused?” A huff leaves you.
The outline of his shape pressed along your skin, the plushness of your bottom contrasting against the rigidity.
“I can say the same to you.”
The pads of his fingers trail up your heated skin, crawling along your torso, feathering touches alighting your senses like sparks. Massaging the tired yet restless muscles. You sigh in contentment.
The billowing button-down dragged up by his vascular hand, unveiling your skin to the cool sheets. Wandering touches slow as they rest in the valley of your breasts. His fingers enclose around one mount, gently twisting the defenseless nipple.
“H-hey! Hmph-“ Barely catching a moan before it fled past sealed lips.
“Hm?” His lips are now right next to your ears. “Surely you foresaw this, I’m just helping my wife with all her excess energy.”
His forgotten hand made its presence known as it kneaded your hips, cunning touches breaching under the feeble defenses of your panties. Effortlessly brushing them to the side, long fingers encroaching closer to their destination.
Your thighs react, squeezing together to prevent him from venturing further. Unfortunately, it was all in vain, for his fingertips already dipped into an all too familiar sap.
“See, you seem quite eager,” he taunts.
Stubbornly, your body attempts to buckle away from his influence. Face firmly pointed away from his lest he peeks at your heated cheeks.
Alhaitham abandons the perch on your breast to, two large hands attempting to tame the bucks and rolls of your hips. He releases a slow sigh into the crook of your neck.
“Are you not feeling it tonight?” His hands remain where they were, but the strength missing.
At the lack of resistance, your hips seem to have lost interest in their writhing, staying within his yielding hold. Internally, you chiding your body for being so straightforward. The only thing blocking an answer from exiting your throat was that fickle ego of yours.
“Won’t you allow me to make up for my blunders today, wife?” He soothes his hand along your leg.
With that stubborn ego of yours still biting down on your tongue, you simply nod your head. Feeling the heat of your cheeks reflected to you by the pillow.
Permitting your thighs to give into the tow of his grasp. Allowing the grip of one large hand to pull your bent leg open, exposing your vulnerable cunt. Shielded from the view of the raindrops by a mere blanket.
The hand snaked under your waist took swift advantage of the oppurtunity. Sliding one firm finger down to part the fold of your slit as his warm hand cups your greed.
Alhaitham continued with the caresses of his fingers. Your lashes and lips pressed tightly shut, your leg still held in his tender hold. His slow breaths brush ghosting your skin.
He spreads the slick along your slit, the tips of his fingers ever so often knocking against the bud at the very top. Teal eyes catch the sudden jolts of your body every time it happens.
He moves his fingers downwards, slowly parting the now soft folds of your core. Feeling the subtle puckers of your entrance as his touch traced closer, more wetness dribbling out from the honeypot.
The tip of his finger now encircles the fluttering hole. Your hip subtly bucked into his hand, as if to lure him in a soundless plea.
Breaths getting deeper as your eyes follow his touch, the warm pad of his index finger twirling against your clit. Stoking a burgeoning fire with each slow circle. Your placid sighs fill the lull.
His middle finger ventures past the entrance of your satin walls welcomed with a lewd squelch. Curling his finger against slick walls to test the give, he wonders if this hidden oasis is etched into his shape yet.
Diligently, his digit continues to sink in and out of your weeping hole, making your teeth sink into the flesh of your bottom lip. The squelches increased in volume as trickles of nectar began pooling on the sheets. Walls clamping around a lonely finger, it wasn’t enough to quell that mounting heat within.
A second deft finger joined in, sliding past a hungry entrance. A tangled dance amongst gummy walls as they curled and stretched the space. The lewd squelches resounding in your ear, a whimper trapped in your throat. The heel of his warm palm now pressed flat against the soft mound of your cunt, every movement of his hand resulting in a grind against your clit.
Each grind causes a hot flash to shock throughout your body, starting from your curled toes to the very top of your head. The jostling of your hips and legs gradually expels the blanket off the bed.
“Mmph!” A whine from a sudden surge of bliss when his thick fingers curled against a spongy patch deep within.
“T-there! More there!”
Your body writhes, no longer docile under the white searing pleasure frying the ends of every nerve within your being.
He gladly obliges. Unrelenting rhythm slipping in and out of your convulsing walls. Ensuring to grind against that spongey patch.
Your body twitches and flails in reaction. Trying to find some way to handle this surcharge of sensations.
Legs instinctively wanting to shut together as if to cease this turbulent sensation, unfortunately, your pitiful strength gave no resistance against his rigid hold.
Piqued by the sweet tune, Alhaitham watches the scrunch in your trembling brows. He repeats his actions, another mewl leaves your lips as your head leans further into his shoulder.
The mellow pace of his fingers suddenly amps up, retreating out only to clap back in as his palm presses into the twitching bud.
“Ah! Haitham.”
A pressure mounting up, a sirens call beckoning you closer and closer to a hazardous cliff’s edge. The only foundation for your sanity is thousand-count fabric, thus you twist the silk fibers as tremors overtake your body.
Walls clamping down to trap his thick digits inside as it spasms. Muscles tensing and quivering as your back arches away from his chest, parted lips with nothing choking past them.
Three thick fingers sink deeper into your pussy without a hint of resistance, as a reward he makes sure to roll your overstimulated clit in firm circles with his palms. Judging from the violent tremors in your legs, it seemed you were almost there.
Just at the cusp of rapture when your hand tangles into his ashen-locks, canting your head back so that your panting lips could capture his. Alhaitham returns to gesture with just as much fervor in his kiss, swallowing down your sweet mewls for himself.
With a singular gasp, the siren’s call had beckoned your sanity to drown in the murky depths. It’s as if you lost control of your body to the possession of pleasure.
Eyes rolled back and lips broke away as breathy moans escaped the prison of your throat, a haze heavy over your thoughts, pride long lost amongst the gale of an orgasm.
The beckoning depths of euphoria welcome your descent.
Your limp frame rests against him. A light layer of sweat coating your panting chest, blurred vision merging and blending the details of the ceiling above the bed.
Alhaitham coaxes the contractions of your core, riding out the waves of their squeezes and sucks against his fingers. Earning an addictive whimper from you when his digits pulled away. Entranced by the glimmering string of nectar stretching between his fingers and your oasis.
Trailing back up to your face, he notes the return of your hazy irises from their ogle of the bedroom ceiling.
“Better?” Teal gaze watching the pants of your chest as they steady.
‘No, not at all’, a statement just at the tip of your tongue, but your lips were busy attempting to grasp deep breaths. The surplus of vigor festering into unquenchable desire. To be closer, deeper, more. You needed more.
Where words fail, action must take its place. Even before your mind finishes up the scheme brewing within, your lips catch him off guard, plush lips embracing his in a tender waltz.
Your body rolls back so that your breast can press against his chest through the thin fabric of his stolen shirt.
At the tender caress of your kiss, teal eyes disappear behind ashen lashes, the clasp of his grip loosening. Allowing you the mobility to finally pull your body on top of his, lips never once parting until you were finally settled atop his broad body.
A certain stiffness makes its reintroduction against your roused clit.
Breaking the seal of the kiss as a line of salvia stretches between your tongues, arms pushing against his firm chest to prop your body up as you gaze down at him.
“Still have too much energy?” Haughty eyes peer into yours, yet you can see the ardor oh so thinly concealed behind the brilliant teal.
“What do you mean? Aren’t you the eager one?” You hum, rolling your hips against the rigidness trapped behind the prison of sweatpants.
“Hmm.” He sucks in a breath through his teeth.
Large hands feel down along the plumpness of your ass as they drag a flimsy bit of fabric down your thighs. Daintier hands pull down the hem of sweatpants and briefs.
A fair exchange. Him helping you out of those ruined panties, and you freeing him from a compressed prison of cloth. Discarded and forgotten along the floorboards as the fog of passion obscured them from further consideration.
His vascular hands slide down the curves of your body, settling on your hip as your legs plant themselves on either side of his body. Alhaitham coaxes the hem of his stolen button-down just above your midriff. Sharp eyes surveying the puffiness of your clit, glistening with temptation.
Lowering your hips a breathy sigh leaves his lips and yours as the ridges of his cock drag against your slick folds. A few slow rolls starting from his leaking tip sliding down, thick veins skimming against your swollen clit. Precum mixing with arousal in a sinful concoction along his length.
Perhaps he should convince you to participate in more naps if he knew it’d make you this excitable.
“Oh,” you hum aloud, pausing your hips as you reach over to the bedside table.
Pulling open the drawer and rustling about a box followed by the crinkling of foil. Holding up the corner of the packet to your lip, tearing the foil while your gaze held his. Taking your time in dragging the condom out from its package. Easing it down his length while your fingers traced along, feeling each twitch and shudder.
“You sure do know how to test my patience.”
“Hmm?” You feign innocence.
A pair of shaky breaths mingle as Alhaitham helps position his engorged tip at your dripping entrance. Your hand guides him while raising your hips.
Other hand pressing his chest down for support as your thighs sink back down, a shameful squelch accompanying heavy breaths as your walls welcome his cock’s fat head. Weeping pussy engulfing his girth in bit by bit until you clit kisses his pelvis. Sending jolts of searing pleasure that caused your satin walls to twitch and tighten.
“Ah~” you sigh.
Drawing out his cock inch by thick inch, sloppy trails of arousal caught on each ridge before dropping back down. Earning low grunts and sighs each time your satin walls swallowed his girth. The rhythm of your hips is paced and controlled despite how Alhaitham’s fingers dug into your skin.
A whine living your drooling lips with each slap of his skin against your clit. Pushing each tantalizing inch to stroke your starved walls until his skin claps against yours with a wet kiss. The bedframe creaks with each calculated movement, back and forth, back and forth the wood sings along.
Your head was light, intoxicated by a feverish potion of lust and desire. Feeling him reach the deepest depths, fat tip grinding against those spots which made your legs falter momentarily each time.
Utilizing the strength of both your arms now to support yourself. However, the jolts of pleasure that shot up your spine with each roll of your hips were too maddening to stop.
His calloused fingers massage circles into your hips. Squeezing the plush flesh to ground his sanity, watching your lewd face as you shamelessly bounced on him for your pleasure. Observing the subtle ripples with each slap of your hips and the jumps of your perky breast.
The ghostly touches of your fingers skim across his lips, prompting his eyes to connect with yours. Lush and glossy lips parted with your deep pants as your lust-hazed eyes peer down at him, unspoken plea inscribed within them. Who is he to not fulfill your desires?
Lurching his upper body up, he answers your plea, capturing your lips with his. Swiping his tongue against your bottom lip, deepening the kiss. A messy and feverish tangle as if to replace the air in your lungs with his.
Mewls and whimpers muffled by his skin, your hands moving to perch themselves on his broad shoulders. Your quivering legs grew limp as the strength of his hands took over. Barely processing the sweet nothings whispered as your core relishes in the fullness. Like an ache that’s been finally satisfied.
He wondered if tonight’s excessive vigor was fraying his control, or if your body was just this addictive.
By now any notion of decency and integrity has long left you, your hand clawing into his shoulders, marking him with the scars of rapture. A harsh thrust of his hips recoils through you, a wanton moan reverbing off the walls as it forces your tangled lips to part.
Tongue unable to produce anything other than strained moans, your head nods into his broad shoulder as your hips ground against his. The wet squelch announces the reciprocation of your walls.
The intervals of those unrelenting rams increasing between the tender thrusts, half-lidded eyes trained on the shivers of your body. Cock sliding against satin ridges of your wall. Grunts and pants reverberate through his throat, teeth clenching as your heat engulfs him again. Reaching deeper into your welcoming core as your lips fall open.
“Is this not enough?” You could feel the mirth in his whisper.
Closer, deeper, more. You want more. Walls aching for more, for his girth to jostle your core more, to extinguish this all-consuming heat within you. Hips floundering in harmony with breathy mewls.
Pressing libidinous kisses along his throat feeling the vibrations of his grunts and pants, a deep chuckle was soon felt against your lips.
“Good grief you are a greedy little thing aren’t you.”
A deafening slam of skin resounds through the heavy air, swiftly followed by another and another. A new tempo in this waltz of passion takes over like a wave sweeping both of you out to a sea of indulgence.
Possessed by the desperation of chasing a white light, your hand rakes deeper into his toned arms. Seizing anything to prevent your mind from abandoning your sinful body as his girth twitches within your velvety folds.
Sanity like a foolish sailor who’s beckoned by the lure of a siren’s voice, uncaring of the rocks which will sink them to the very bottom of the bemused tides. Keening against your husband shamelessly, a shameless wife on the cusp of her second fall into ecstasy.
The heavy scent of lust, the smothering heat, his unrelenting and unshakable thrusts amalgamating into the spark that lit your nerves alight. Toes arched into the air and eyes reaching the back of your head. Sobs and incoherent babbles resounding through the room.
Your devious walls clamped around his dick with maddening convulsions, gummy muscles suckling against his girth eager to quell your aching greed. It was too much.
His fingers claw into your soft hips, pressing your cunt flush against his hips with a sloppy slap of skin. The bulbous tip prodding against that weakness deep within you. Bruising grip holding your body in place as his lips crash back into yours.
Swallowing down his breathless groans with your sweet mewls and praddles.
A heat is spilled into the rubber, making your greedy walls quiver amidst the aftershocks of ecstasy. Alhaitham’s hips twitch with each subsequent rip of his orgasm, thrusting his length further into your crowded cavity with each one. The filthiness of it all prolongs your sinful depravity.
Chest expanding with pants, your lopsided shirt falling further down your shoulder. Your eyes return from seeing blinding white, exhaustion drenching each fiber of your body.
Limp figure crumbling against your husband as his back lays back on the creaking headboard. Even before your worn mind could conjure a coherent thought, your hands caress his starlight tresses.
As his own breath evades him Alhaitham releases one hand to cup your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your smoldering skin, guiding your lips back to his.
Basking in the warmth forged between your bodies, between drumming heartbeats and breathless lungs.
Two bodies lay under silken sheets, skin freshly wiped clean of sweat as the crisp breeze brushed against the curtains gradually erasing the sinful haze. The cool air aids your rising and falling chest to pace itself.
Muscles and bones heavy with fatigue, yet your eyes couldn’t bring themselves to retire behind shut lids. Not when those dreary clouds have finally retreated.
The moon hangs high in the sky, finally free from the shroud of rain clouds, she sits among the twinkling dots. Twinkling dots were in actuality brilliant stars, some even larger and brighter than the beloved sun.
Glimmering lustrously as they traverse through the contentious vacuum of space and past other nameless stars. A scene from a late-morning market trip wanders its way back from the depths of your memory, bringing its musings with it.
“Something on your mind?” A timbre voice beckons your conscious mind back from its trek.
Teal eyes set upon yours as your heads rest on plush pillows, just a breath away from one another.
“Hm, just senseless musings.” Your gaze shifts away from the window.
In a changed world with millions of hands will your hands and his find each other to make two hairs of hands?
In a different time with a million pairs of legs, will your steps and his steps still coincide in time with each other
In a new life with a sea of new faces, will a stoic face and another stoic face spot each other in the crowd?
What is the likelihood of those odds?
“If you keep letting your thoughts fester, it’ll only bring trouble upon yourself in the morning from sleep deprivation.” He shifts his position, supporting his cheek on his fist as he stares down at your face.
You sigh because he spoke exactly what those whispers of rationale were urging you, but the scoffs of pride had deemed these rampant inquiries ‘childish’. However, it’s a bit hard to avoid his eyes now.
“I was just musing about the soulmates concept again,” you confess.
Alhaitham hums in curiosity.
“Do you…” You take a deep breath, forcing the hard-to-vocalize question from your tongue. “Do you think we’ll only be together in this life?”
He’s silent. Just the muted chorus of Summer crickets rejoicing over the conclusion of a rainstorm resounding through the space.
“In a different time, a different universe, or the next life, do you think we’ll be soulmates again?” You muster together the courage to peer up at his face.
“I don’t recall ever reading an article or paper related to this topic, so it’ll be convoluted to get an answer.” He brings his other hand to his face, signifying his musings.
Right, there isn’t even a definitive answer for what happens after life passes, an afterlife, a cycle, or nothing, no one knows. Was this the only universe where life exists or are there infinitely many far out there in the stars? Does anyone know?
Your hand pulls your blanket up to your face, partially to cover the growing shame creeping up your face. That haughty voice within was right, these baseless questions are silly and childish. Perhaps even too morbid to bring up so unprompted on this weekend night.
What were you expecting Alhaitham to even do? Did you want him to give you an answer? What can he even do? A question you can’t even begin to understand, why would you even expect him to have some solution prepared?
What to do now? Can you just take back your previous words from his memory, so he’ll just forget what you said? Maybe just ask him to quell any more mindless musings from plaguing you tonight by placing his lips on your forehead? So that you could finally drift into the realm of slumber.
However, is that temporary solution enough? Enough to stifle the contentions and riddles clattering together into a clamorous ruckus in your head? Could sleep even spare you from their tumult?
“The Membrane Multiverse Theory or reincarnation, hm, do you have any personal theories you’d like to share?” The sensation of his fingers grasping yours brings you back to reality.
Glancing at him with a quirk in your brow, you wait for him to continue.
“Who knows, maybe we’ll be the first to publish something for this topic.” His thumb runs along your knuckles.
“So, is there a speculation or possible rationale you feel particular to?” Teal eyes reconnect with yours.
“Well…” You sigh, relishing in the warmth of his hand as you concoct a half-baked theory.
“There’s stardust from stars that had burst billions of years ago, that have somehow ended up on this planet. Subsequently, every being on earth has the atoms of stars in them. So, naturally by the law of conservation, the earth is where the atoms of the human body will return.”
“Based on the law that atoms cannot be created or destroyed?” He drones.
“Yes, they all had to come from something before them. The carbon in muscles, the calcium in bones, and the iron in blood. The atoms that make up you and I might become part of something else, or even of different people too.”
“Hm, that sounds probable.”
“But, then this brings up a whole new host of questions, such as, if the new people our atoms become a part of are even ‘us’? Will they ever meet? What if you become a tree and I a rock? What if the atoms of you end up on one side of Teyvat and I on the other end?”
You peer into his irises, but you were just searching for an answer that isn’t there.
For his beryl irises were impassive. But it was the impassive foundation you needed to ground your rambling thoughts and nonsensical musings into the desolate truth of it all.
The warmth of his hand slips away.
“Never mind, I suppose it’s the most logical to conclude that we’re just soulmates in this instance of time, in this universe, and only here.” Your hand closes over the empty space he left.
Maybe it’s wise to dismiss it as silly rambling and then withdraw from his indecipherable eyes. Is it too late to put this plan into motion now?
The weight of a muscular arm is draped over your waist, hand pulling you closer unlike your ploy to escape.
“But I have a few theories I haven’t shared yet.” He glances out toward the bedroom window.
“While the theory of reincarnation currently doesn’t have any solid scientific backing, in some way, the law of conservation of mass does give a bit of merit to that notion.” Alhaitham draws circles into the small of your back.
You hum in response.
“The atoms that created us will return to the earth after us and become a part of something or someone else’s molecular structure. A tree or a rock, a human or a beast, it’s all probable. However…” Beryl eyes return to meet yours.
“What’s stopping them from repeating the same molecular structures as right now?” He asks.
Maybe it was his turn to peer into your eyes to search for an answer, an answer currently brewing and forging between your united gazes.
“What’s stopping these atoms from returning to these exact molecular structures in the future? In a different time, the atoms of us now could one day in the far future come together again and make ‘us’ once more. Maybe just you, maybe just me, or maybe both at the same time.”
He frees his other hand from the duty of supporting his head, broad body settling down into the bed and blankets, allowing his face to move closer to your level upon his pillow.
“What’s the likelihood of those odds? Me and you again?” You ask.
Alhaitham pauses. All the bright minds of science, mathematics, and physics, have yet to come up with a formula to calculate such a thing.
What would be the factors plugged into the equation? And how accurate would it even be?
The ashen-haired man wasn’t sure, but there was at least a statistical observation that would provide some basis.
“A true 0% chance is an absolute impossibility, just as nothing can be proven absolutely 100%. Since we don't know the absolutes of time, existence, or physics. So, there’ll always be a non-zero chance.” Feeling the drums of your heartbeat against his chest.
“Then, when they do, I think I’ll spend my life pondering what could fit into the spaces between my fingers like this.” He slips his hand into the gaps of yours, intertwining them.
Then finally, he saw the smile he’d been yearning for rising on your lush lips. The ends of your eyes crinkle as it make its way to your irises as well. Your grip mirrors his as you nestle your face closer to his.
“You won’t get tired of this stoic face?” You taunt.
“Will you get tired of mine?” He counters.
Your shoulders quiver with stifled giggles.
“No, no I won’t,” you promise him.
“Then I won’t,” he promises back.
His larger hand brings yours closer to himself, all the while your attentive eyes watch failing to keep the curl of your lips under control.
“Any thoughts on the Membrane Multiverse Theory? How will your astute mind surmise the possibility of us laying like this somewhere else in the stars?” Honeyed-voice mimicking awe as your face inches closer.
“I believe I’ve shared enough, I’d much rather hear what your brilliant postulate is.” His tone casted with mirth, but the bite missing from teal eyes.
Letting a soft hum, your mind rifling through all the paragraphs and journals your hands had ever thumbed through.
The soft rhythm of his breaths kept time. Stringing the words together on your tongue, you hope this monologue of yours will provide some amusement for him.
“If universes are randomly put into 2 boxes of ‘yes’ and ‘no’, then on average the number of universes in each box would be the same. For every universe I’m not with you, there’ll be equally as many where I am with you.”
A coin toss, perhaps it was all just a coin toss after all. Whether or not the Akasha paired a stoic face with another stoic face, for the gaps of your fingers to fit his so perfectly.
It could have all been a coin toss, for one half to stumble upon the other half cruelly parted from them by the hands of unseen gods.
“Something akin to a bijection existing between both sets of universes?” He cross-examines.
“Maybe… If we were to assign one type ‘yes’ to a positive integer, and the other type ‘no’ to a negative integer, then perhaps we can construct a bijection from the positive and negative integers.” Your brow furrows in contemplation.
“If we submit this theory do you think the Akademiya would publish it?”
“Not likely, bijections are usually made between sets of elements like numbers, not sure if bijections can be applied to something like whole universes. I’m just hypothesising nonsense,” you sigh.
“But they did publish the nonsense known as The Lifespan of Love,” he interjects.
“Hm, then maybe there’s a non-zero chance they’ll publish our nonsense too.” You stifle a scoff.
“Hm,” Alhaitham hums in amused agreement.
His free hand pulls the covers further up over your frame then smoothing out the wrinkles. Observing the growing delays between your slowing blinks.
“Only you and I would turn pillow talk into an academic deliberation.” You couldn’t hold back the giggle any longer.
He sighs in agreement, nestling his head closer to yours on the plush pillows, teal gaze never once leaving yours.
“It’ll make any romantic keel over and dead from how dry it is, wouldn’t it, Haitham?”
“I say let them.”
Scoffing and shaking your head at his crude declaration as a yawn slips past your lips, a conclusion to this nonsensical academic deliberation.
With one hand still intertwined in the tender grasp of another you pull Alhaitham closer. So that the spaces of your body could lay against the spaces of his.
The warmth of his skin mingling with the warmth of yours, pressed against one another. You drawing mindless shapes into his back, his hand tracing senseless ruins into yours.
Perhaps, an illogical attempt to echt memories into the stardust in your bodies.
So he and you could imprint the memory of each other into the very fibers of your beings. Then maybe someday when these atoms return to these exact molecular structures, they’ll remember this too.
The law of conservation of mass, the probabilities upon probabilities, and bijections used in an inconsequential pseudo-academic ramblings to no one but an audience of silent stars.
Alhaitham’s certain no academic publisher would spare a glance at them.
But this nonsensical instance in the continuum of time, feeling the rhythm of your heart on the other side of his chest next to his own, is his most precious epiphany.
Fin~
©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS.
CAN’T TAKE MY EYES OFF OF YOU.
pairing. kamisato ayato x fem!reader
genre. fluff + he’s so fucking in love with you (we love to see it)
synopsis. your husband notices how you seem to look away whenever he makes eye contact with you. so tonight he finally confronts you in his own way.
wc. 0.8k
an. yall i love this man so much omg i cant i was literally blushing while writing this goodbye i'll see myself out now 🚶🏻♀️
“ah if only i was reborn as the mirror on your vanity," your husband sighs from behind you.
you laugh and swipe the last bits of your moisturiser on your cheeks. “why?”
“because you get all close and personal with it...” ayato trails off and stares at your figure with steady eyes. “...but not with me."
you raise your brows in confusion, and for some reason your heart skips a beat. "what ever do you mean?" you ask without even looking at him.
ayato walks towards your sitting-figure. tonight, his lavender stare is not one he looks at you with when he wants to share an intimate night with you. rather, it's one of curiosity. he wants to know why you look away every time he has his eyes trained on you. even now you do not meet eyes with him. why is that?
do you not love him as much as you used to? was there something he didn't realise he did wrong? were you bored of life as the yashiro commissioner's wife? he can't seem to think of any other reason for you to look away from him. besides, he loves your eyes! they're such a wonderful shade so he can only wonder why you turn away and limit the time he gets to stare into them.
while those thoughts flood ayato's head, your palms are sweating at how close he's become. panicked, you turn around and stand to meet his eyes at a less strained angle, using the back of your foot to nudge your chair underneath your vanity.
ayato's pout almost makes you laugh if not for how his eyes do not leave your face. you can already feel a herd of butterflies making themselves at home in your stomach at how closely he's observing your expression.
"you're doing it again."
"w- what?" you question, eyes flickering from his gaze to his vanity on the opposite side of the room.
ayato's brows crease ever so slightly, an ungloved finger rising so he can tilt your face towards his. "sweetheart, look at me please."
your cheeks heat up as your hands scramble for something to hold onto when you realise he's closed the gap between your clothed bodies. you then feel a hand planted on your waist. oh archons. "i- it's—it's going to be really difficult if you look at me like that!" your voice does nothing to defend you, high-pitched and breathy.
ayato tilts his head, as if wondering what you mean and you're not entirely sure if he's faking it or not.
you blink, moving your gaze away by an inch but your husband is quick to gently manoeuvre your jaw back so you continue to face him. your expression creases in protest. he only chuckles at your reaction, a smile finally appearing on his handsome face.
he traces circles with his thumb on your waist as an attempt to calm you down. after seeing how you've reacted to his forwardness, the yashiro commissioner is able to put two and two together. "tell me what's on your mind, dear." sigh, does he even realise your string of sanity is about to snap?
you're so out of it. you can't even bear to focus on his words when he studies your facial features like that—ooh that's not good for your heart. your bottom lip is quivering.
you are all he sees.
"n- nothing," you say in a hushed tone.
even after sharing so many lovely nights together, it seems that you still cannot handle the way he looks at you. adorable. he thinks. but he can't just leave his wife suffering all by herself like this. after all, what kind of husband would leave his wife in a state like this? hands pawing on his chest softly, lips curved in nervousness and eyes blinking as if to help you cope with his loving gaze.
"you say 'nothing' but so much is written across your face," a short giggle leaves his lips in amusement. "why don't you join me in bed, hm? i can look at you some more there."
you whine and shove your face into his shoulder. "don't mock me."
ayato takes his chance to pull you in between his arms for a warm embrace, sighing contently. "now i'm not mocking you, i'm simply saying that you are a delight to look at and as your husband, shouldn't i be looking at you the most?"
a playful scoff leaves your lips, momentarily lifting your head to meet his eyes. "oh don't say that—or your reports will come after you."
your husband groans, "darling, don't remind me. i've personally had enough looking at those useless documents." you then hear him click his tongue. "don't try changing the subject either, so join me in bed, will you?"
you sigh an exasperated 'okay, fine' before yelping as you're unceremoniously dragged on to the bed by your giggling husband.
(Sfw) How you spend time with each other in the winter
Characters: Aether, Ayato, Childe, Diluc, Xiao x GN!Reader
Warnings: Ayato is strong enough to catch you (canon tbh), Childe and you kiss but it doesn't get steamy, Xiao is strong enough to carry you (extremely canon tbh)
Notes: For aether's part, let's pretend that you can make it snow in a teapot 🫣 , милая means "darling"
WC: 1.8k words total
"Here you go love," Aether says, handing you a cup of hot cocoa. You smile at him and make room on the couch for him, opening up the giant fuzzy blanket for him to get under.
Aether had done a lot of commissions in the past week, leaving you two unable to spend a lot of time together. It made for some lonely nights, with you having to entertain yourself in the teapot. Today was different-- he had cleared all commissions early and let Jean know that any requests for him were to either be redirected to someone else or have to wait until another day. Today was focused on you, his lover. And he intended to keep it that way.
Once he got comfortable, you adjust so you can lean on him, resting your head on his shoulder. He gives you a kiss on your forehead and rubs your side, causing you to melt as you feel his calloused hands through your shirt. The fireplace was ablaze, warming the entire room up as you watch the snow fall outside.
"I missed this," you sigh, closing your eyes. He nods, taking a sip of his own mug.
"I did too."
In preparation for Christmas, you took it upon yourself as the Lady of the Estate to hang up decorations. Ayato and many of the other servants insisted it wasn't necessary, but you refused to sit by.
"I've decorated my house for years with my family. This will be no different," you explained a few days ago. He wanted to push back, but he figured that there was no harm. Besides, he couldn't deny that seeing the childlike wonder in your eyes from gathering Christmas decorations made him happy for you. This brings you to where you are today.
You were currently decorating the hallways of the estate with wreaths and garlands. Servants would come in throughout the process to drop off more decorations for you to use, or to offer snacks for both you and Ayato. With you on the ladder, everyone was slightly on edge about you falling down. With Ayato there to catch you though, they said nothing.
"Babe, can you pass me a wreath?" He looks up at you and nods, reaching down to grab a wreath from a crate and hand it to you. You thank him and shuffle around on the ladder step to hang it on the pillar, connecting it to some garland. You lean back a bit to admire your work, glancing down the hallway. It's nice to see it all come to fruition slowly. At this rate, it'd be decorated right before Christmas and before families would come over.
As you move to get down, you misstep, tripping on your own feet and falling off. You yelp in surprise and attempt to grab a ladder step, but your fingers just barely brush against it before you're out of reach. Ayato doesn't miss a beat and immediately rushes forward to catch you, gathering you in his arms. You immediately cling to his body, breathing heavily as the quick adrenaline rush you got from falling runs through your body.
Ayato shakes his head and carefully sets you down on the ground, making sure you're able to stand steadily.
"Why don't we take a break?" He suggests, carefully dusting off your clothes. You nod in agreement-- now was a good time for a break.
You and Childe decided to throw a holiday party back at his family house in Sneznyha. Many of the younger kids were running around, laughing, and sneaking cookies off of various trays. The adults were milling around, catching up, and enjoying the drinks all the while gossiping with each other. The energy was high and everyone was having a good time.
You take out the Coulibiac pie you were baking-- Childe's mother had given you the recipe and you wanted to attempt to make it. The smell of spices and baked meat floods the kitchen. It was enough to drag Childe away from wherever he was.
"It smells good, милая (darling)," he comments. You jump a bit in surprise, not expecting to hear anyone, but immediately relax as you feel his warm arms wrap around your waist. You can tell he's already had a bit to drink-- alcohol clings to his clothes like cologne. You wiggle out of his hold, earning a quiet whine.
"I'm glad you think so, but it's hot. I don't want to drop it or burn myself," you gently chide him, walking over to set down the pie on a cooling rack.
"But I miss you," he continues to whine. "You've been cooped up in here all night while the rest of us are out there."
You roll your eyes and flash him a cheeky grin, taking off your apron and setting it aside. You check your reflection in a nearby kitchen, making sure you still looked presentable as you dusted off any food that may have gotten on you.
"Alright, I'll get out there then," you decide, and he cheers, walking up to take your hand. You smile and cross the doorway to enter the living room. However, you don't get far before you feel a tug on your arm and you're pulled slightly back. Confused, you look at Childe.
"What's wrong, baby?" He points up, and you follow your gaze. There was mistletoe hanging over the doorway arch. Your cheeks warm up and you sputter, trying to get words out. Childe's grin widens as he gets closer and gently cups your face between his hands.
"Cat got your tongue, милая?"
You don't get a moment to respond as he leans down and brushes his lips against yours. Instincts take over and you're wrapping your arms around his neck.
When you told Diluc you wanted to bake, he was more than happy to encourage you to do so. Adelinde was surprised but was willing to take a break and have you work on Christmas desserts. You invited Diluc to join you and he agreed, assuming that the process would be calm and straightforward-- your confidence had him believe you had done this enough times to be neat.
He was quickly proven wrong when he stopped to take a look around the kitchen after you both had been baking for the past two hours. The dough was spilled on the counters, the icing was everywhere, and raw eggs and milk were spilled on the counters and in the sinks. It was truly a nightmare.
"You know, when you said you wanted to bake, I assumed that it would be a neater process," he confessed, turning to you. You look up from the cookies you were haphazardly decorating, smearing red icing on what Diluc can only assume was supposed to be a stocking.
"I never said I was the best baker, darling. I said I love baking," you explain. He sighs, nodding.
"I suppose that's right. Adelinde will kill us both and never let us back in the kitchen after this, I'm afraid.'
You giggle, shrugging your shoulders.
"That's alright. I wanted to just do this once, for Christmas. And I'm glad I got to do it with you."
Diluc's chest swells and his face reddens, matching his firey locks. You laugh at this and wave him over, holding up a cookie for him to try.
"C'mon, let's eat some of these before Adelinde gets on our cases."
Xiao didn't often go out and about the city-- he kept to himself mostly. He only appeared to those who called out his name, or when he was at Wangshu Inn to get some almond tofu and recuperate. So when you asked him to take a wall through Liyue Harbor, he hesitated.
"I don't want to cause a commotion for you. I'm an Adeptus, Y/N," he explains. You shrug and turn to grab your winter coat.
"Many of the people of Liyue remember when you and the other Adepti helped save the country from Osial. I can't blame them for getting excited at the prospect of seeing you in person," you counter. As you adjust your coat you look over at Xiao who gives you a pensive look. "If you don't want to come that's fine. I just wanted to ask because I thought it'd be fun!"
He stands there for a bit, watching you finish getting dressed. Just as you grab the door handle to open, he grabs your hand. Surprised, you look back at him, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes?" He's quiet, almost hesitating to speak.
"I'll come with," he decides. It's quiet for a bit, but slowly a smile breaks out across your face. You open the door and tug him out of your house, laughing.
"Then let's go!"
The day is spent walking around the harbor, talking to various shop owners, and trying out the hot and fresh street food various merchants were selling. You offer Xiao to try a steamed meat bun. He denies the offer at first but at your insistence, he takes a bite. The way his eyes light up as he eats was something you'll never forget. He had gotten excited and ended up devouring half of the bun before realizing you and the merchant were staring at him in amusement. He's quick to compose himself and shove the other half of the bun in your hands.
Xiao was hounded a bit, what with people recognizing him as one of the saviors of the harbor, but it didn't lessen your fun going out and about. It was fun to see him get embarrassed by all the well-deserved praise. By the end of your journey around the harbor, you had gotten tired and passed out on a bench while waiting for Xiao to finish talking with some kids. Noticing your slumped-over figure on the bench, he scoops you up into his arms and begins his journey back to your house. He easily could've teleported back, but he found that he enjoyed holding you like this.
"I want to enjoy this feeling a little longer."
The length of the sections does not indicate favoritism-- it's just how I ended up writing the scenarios.
If you want me to do other characters, you can ask ❤️
Requests are open~!