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euthymiya · 12 days

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the delicate line between friends and lovers ft. alhaitham — in which the akademiya’s scribe and the bimarstan’s head nurse develop some serious feelings for each other in between hook ups. evidently, neither of them are very good at being able to communicate these feelings, though.

contains: 14.0k word count ; female reader ; explicit content—not suitable for minors ; fwb to lovers ; mutual pining ; banter and teasing ; angst with happy ending (this one goes out to all the girls who wonder if their fav would choose them: they would!) ; reader is the (very overworked) head nurse at the bimarstan ; mentions of blood and injuries (alhaitham) ; reader has insecurities ; jealousy ; dry humping—and kaveh being a major cockblock unfortunately ; alcohol drinking—4ggravate (minus alhaitham) appearance! ; clothed sex ; unprotected vaginal sex ; no prep ; creampie

the akademiya is well connected in its networks. meaning one thing: gossip travels fast. against his will, alhaitham learns far more about people than he wants to, details upon details that travel even through his soundproof earpieces at times.

today, for example, he learns without meaning to that the akademiya has decreased the previously approved funding for the bimarstan. this piece of information is able to irritate him enough that he almost itches to demand for the title of acting grand sage once more. sumeru, a nation of free healthcare, couldn’t possibly hope to underfund one of the pillars of the citizens and their well-being. not unless someone who’s as incapable and underdeveloped in critical thinking as the last grand sage himself (before alhaitham, of course) was in office.

he walks to the bimarstan, footsteps heavy in the dead quiet of the night as he trudges through the door of the hospital. you’re already there to greet him, eyeing the way the arm under his cloak is tense and curled under the fabric.

“another eremite attack?” you murmur, walking towards an empty room as you gaze at him over your shoulder to follow.

he does so wordlessly, eyeing the tired, overworked, and disarrayed nurses along the hospital as he walks past them.

you’re no different, he studies, watching as you stifle a yawn, taking in the darkened circles under your eyes as he sits on an examination table while you bring out the necessary supplies to clean his wound.

the akademiya—no, sumeru was blooming under his lead. that much he was aware of. you’d said it yourself, too, the first time he came.

oh, it’s you! we’re most grateful for your changes, acting grand sage, you’d smiled at him, they’ve really helped improve things here at the bimarstan.

he wasn’t expecting that. the only reason why he’d stopped at the hospital for care instead of going home was because he’d run out of bandages, nothing more. one look at you had all but changed that, the tilt of your lips as they smile spinning his world on its axis in a completely new direction. you tend to his cuts that night, and even though he’d told himself he wouldn’t, he returns after the next expedition.

and the next. and the next. and then it becomes routine.

for a while, alhaitham told himself he only came to the hospital for his wounds instead of patching himself up after long expeditions in the desert because it was nice to see how the bimarstan ran. it’s important for him to be aware of necessary changes that must be made as acting grand sage—however temporary the job may be, he has every intention of doing it properly. so he studies and assesses the functionality of the hospital and makes decisions accordingly. those things can only happen if he visits frequently.

but then he starts to notice that his feet truly only carry him here on the nights you work. though you work often and late into the night, too. being head nurse requires as much, of course, but he notices all too quickly that he’s begun to memorize your schedule.

slowly but surely, he resigns himself to fate. he comes for you.

“it’s just a light graze,” he mumbles after some time, revealing the small gash on his arm under his cloak. your eyebrows crinkle in concern for a moment before you set off to work, methodically and expertly cleaning away at the dried blood and disinfecting the wound.

he doesn’t talk for a while before he finally says, “you’re short-staffed.”

it’s a question presented as an observation—he has a habit of doing that, of speaking his mind and waiting for an explanation to follow.

you sigh, bandaging his arm as you murmur, “people are quitting. it’s been hectic in here—and the funding cut doesn’t exactly allow for a pay that seems worth the grueling hours.”

you love your job. it’s the first thing alhaitham knows about you. you take it very seriously, scolding anyone, even the acting grand sage, about proper care and healthy habits.

did you stitch these yourself? you’d gasped when you first noticed the scars on his chest, that’s dangerous! do you know the infections you could contract from an improperly tended wound?”

it’s not as amusing now to watch the other nurses listen awkwardly as you scold him. he’s back to being the scribe, no longer tied to the title of sage. the nurses aren’t as alarmed anymore by your lack of formality—although, he’s sure by now, they’re a bit used to it too.

“and i assume you’re not resting properly?” he gives you a knowing look, reaching forward with his free hand and brushing a callused but gentle thumb under your bruised eyebags.

you close your eyes at the fleeting touch, humming before giving him a guilty smile.

“i can’t let things get out of hand here.”

“you should take your own advice,” he snorts, “what was it again? something about proper rest and sleep to ensure a healthy lifestyle?”

“if you’re here to throw my words back in my face, i recall also mentioning getting into less trouble,” you huff, momentarily glaring at his arm before meeting his eyes. “what happened to being more careful?”

“like i said,” he shrugs, hissing slightly when you press on his wound to prove your point, “it’s just a graze.”

you and alhaitham are, no doubt, an unexpected match—if you can call yourselves that, even. it’s a complicated relationship you share, you and the former grand sage turned scribe.

you patch him up late at night one day, and he so chivalrously accompanies you on your walk home after your shift. that’s all it was supposed to be…but, well, things are never as simple as sticking to the original plan.

you invite him in for drinks, he accepts, you clumsily trip on your rug, he catches you swiftly, and somehow, in the mix, both of your lips end up meeting in the most heated kiss you’ve ever shared with someone. clothes are easy enough to shed, and stumbling to your bedroom is hardly complicated, and in a far from ideal turn of events, you sleep with the akademiya’s scribe.

multiple times, in fact.

by now, his visits to the bimarstan to see you are as frequent as your visits to his house to see him. the only difference is that his visits tend to be for medical reasons, and yours are…personal to say the least. it’s, of course, as these arrangements tend to go, one that’s strictly physical.

being physically involved with a patient is scandalous enough, but romantic involvement would be nothing short of unethical. and he’s not a very romantically inclined individual anyway, so not toeing the line of something more is easy enough for the both of you.

still, you’re quite fond of him—he’s funny when he wants to be and a gentleman underneath the blunt responses and straightforward remarks. you like to consider him as a good friend. one who knows your body a bit too well than most friends should, but a good friend nonetheless.

you look at him unimpressed as you finish tending to his wound, scoffing and rolling your eyes as you point out, “you’d call it a graze even if your arm was dangling off the bone.”

that gets a chuckle out of him, his head tilting up as he looks at you. if you weren’t in a hospital with your work attire, this would feel oddly domestic: cleaning tenderly at his wounds as he looks at you softly.

you and alhaitham never toe the line of something more, but you do take steps dangerously close sometimes.

“when do you finish your shift?” he asks, voice a low rumble.

“now,” you grin, giving him a mock glare as you add, “you have me working past the clock.”

“let me walk you home, then.” he’d do it anyway, regardless of whether or not you accept. still, you never turn him away.

“how kind of you,” you say sarcastically—you know better than he does what he means, what he wants, and you can’t exactly say you don’t want it yourself.

“i can be rather giving when i want,” he shrugs.

“oh, yes,” you snort, “quite the giver.” the grin he sends you is nothing short of fond.

the line blurs a little like it’s been drawn in the sand, grains carried away by the wind and leaving the faintest trace of the border you draw. somehow, even though you shouldn’t, you step closer to it, just at the edge.

but it’s never enough to cross it.

“am i?” he muses, “i’m glad you think so.”

“you know, most people would believe you talk too little. but i think you talk too much.”

his cloak falls back in place over his arm as he stands, lips curled in a rare smile—well, rare to anyone other than you, that is. he walks out, and you follow.

it almost feels like you're getting closer and closer to stumbling past the line against your will every day.

——————————

alhaitham knows your home well. well enough that he knows to drop his cloak in the basket you keep for laundry so you can wash away the blood soaked into the fabric for him.

is it normal to do the laundry of your fuck buddy? you’re not even sure. it’s not like you’d ask anyone, anyway.

but it doesn’t matter—not when his lips find yours before you can think about it too much. it’s a slow kiss. he’s good with his mouth in more ways than one—good at kissing, good at pleasing, and he’s even good at talking. he’s a linguist, anyway, so it only makes sense.

“eager,” you murmur in between kisses, nipping at his lips as he shivers. “did you miss me that badly in the desert?”

“of course,” he rasps, gently guiding you to fall back against your bed, his hand cupping the back of your head like you’re fragile as glass, “eremites don’t have as enticing of a touch as you do.”

“maybe if you ask nicely, they’ll be less rough with you,” you wiggle your brows, giggling.

he clicks his teeth, angling your jaw to trail kisses along the slant of it as his hands travel to your hips, gently rubbing the bare skin of your hips under your shirt. you hum appreciatively, closing your eyes and sighing at the soothing feeling of his warm palms seeping heat into your skin. your fingers thread into his hair, tangling into the locks for some sort of means to hold on and ground yourself.

it’s like warm drizzles of syrup, his touch sinking into you as you absorb his sweetness.

“and why would i need that when this is far better?”

every word alhaitham alhaitham says is punctuated with the warmth of his lips pressed into your skin. it’s almost soothing—he feels calming. it doesn’t feel heated, not the passionate kind that kindles something carnal in you.

it feels warm, the soft and gentle kind that makes everything feel a bit lighter. a bit cozier. something more homely in this house of yours.

“mhm,” you hum, your fingers slowly slipping from his hair as they fall to his shoulders, barely holding him in place as your eyes remain shut. it’s soothing, everything about him. enough that you don’t even realize you’re dozing off until he chuckles.

“did i bore you into sleep?” he pecks your cheek.

“no,” you tug your eyelids apart, giving him a sheepish grin, “sorry, you’re just warm.”

“oh yeah?” he grins, amused. he’s climbing off of you, much to your dismay, making a soft whine run past your lips as your hands chase him.

he’s quick to replace the lack of him, though, planting himself beside you as he pulls you into his chest.

cuddling isn’t new for the two of you. usually, it’s a post-coital activity, though—you start to think alhaitham is just as bad at drawing a clear line in the sand as you. he’s gentle as he pulls your covers over you, pressing one more kiss to your head before he sighs and relaxes.

“i’m not tired,” you protest weakly.

“no, you’re not,” he agrees to satisfy you, eyeing your drooping eyes knowingly. “i am, though. it’s been a long trip.”

“right,” you nod, humming. “weak.”

he rolls his eyes, though fondly—you barely make out the action through your half lidded eyes as you glance at him one last look before your eyes force themselves shut. he’s warm, smells like that spicy hint of harra fruit in his cologne, and feels painfully safe when he lets you curl into his strong arm as it wraps around you.

normal people don’t cuddle when they’re just fucking like this—you and alhaitham are anything but normal. it’s a mutual sort of agreement, though. you allow the small domestic tendencies to slip past the line, only to let the shore wash it away from the sand.

it never stays for long, this feeling of intimacy. real intimacy, the kind that’s far more personal than seeing each other nude and feeling each other at your rawest. the kind where you both fall asleep beside each other, tangled, safe, warm, trusted.

but you’re just friends. you think. you can’t afford to be anything more—alhaitham isn’t the sort of man to grant you something like that. you’re sure of that. he’s kind, good natured, even. but there’s not one romantically inclined bone in his body—you’ve seen it yourself.

he’s rejected one too many brave women with her heart on her sleeve. never cruelly, but always definitively.

sleep doesn’t let you think about it all for too long. you resign yourself to a peaceful slumber beside him, breath slowly evening out as he rubs the small of your back.

and, when morning comes and you awaken, you don’t think about it for too long then, either. because he’s gone. because, of course, he wouldn’t stay—not when this is physical and nothing more.

you’re not disappointed, you think. you’re aware of the nature of things. and he’s a gentleman, as always, leaving you a note on your bedside.

i had to file some reports from my expedition. i believe i’ll be needing my cloak back.

you chuckle, shaking your head. it’s an invitation—bring me my cloak, and we’ll finish what we started.

it’s how things are with you and alhaitham. you do his laundry with yours, he walks you home and forces you to rest, and sometimes, you happen to partake in some debauchery in the process. there’s nothing wrong with it.

and even if your toes dance along the edge of the line, they always drag along to draw it sharper in the sand.

——————————

coming to alhaitham’s house seems like second nature these days. he comes to you at night, and you come to him in the afternoon of your day off—luck would have it that yours happens to coincide with his. you knock three times and he opens as soon as your knuckles pull away from the cool surface of his door. it’s like he expects you, maybe even waits for you.

you step in and let the door close behind you, grinning when he steps closer and cages you against the tight corner that is his front entrance.

“i brought over your cloak,” you hold up the cloth, gesturing for him to move so you can put it on him. he looks at you incredulously, like you’re out of your mind.

“why would i put it on now?” he asks in confusion.

you tilt your head, raising an eyebrow, “you always wear one?”

“and why would i dress when we’ll only be undressing in a short moment?” he quirks his own brow like it’s obvious—which, to be fair, alhaitham is not exactly wrong. but it doesn’t make you any less flustered when he says it.

“you’re shameless,” you huff, looking away in embarrassment. he chuckles lowly, leaning down and trailing his nose along your collarbone, breathing in your perfume.

“i think i’m more practical, is all,” he murmurs into your skin. you sigh, goosebumps traveling across your body at the fan of his breath against you.

“if only people knew how unstiff the akademiya’s scribe can truly be,” you grin, finger tracing the sliver of skin showing from his chest window. “did you know i overheard a few patients discuss how bad you are at conversing?”

“i don’t get paid to partake in small talk,” he says, voice a low vibration as he shivers at your touch. “i have things to finish when i’m on the clock apart from socializing.”

“what, you’re that concerned when you have your lovely pay raise? i’m sure you could afford a few minutes,” you tease, making him roll his eyes.

alhaitham certainly won’t admit it, but he finds a good amount of amusement from your quips—the small grin on his usually downturned lips tells you as much.

“if you want me to spend my earnings on you, there are better ways to ask,” he shoots light-heartedly.

“you’d accuse me of such shallow schemes?” you pout. “do you think me to be after your mora?”

his answer is instantaneous, coming in the form of a delicate kiss pressed to your lips as his hands grab your hips. your arms have a habit of their own, always wrapping around his neck before you can even comprehend the action, and just like always, you both end up a tangled pile of limbs that can’t even make it past the doorway, let alone the rest of the house.

you like it this way, perhaps even love it. something about him being unable to wait the time it takes to walk to his room fills you up with a sense of glee.

“being the scribe is a much simpler job than sage,” he mumbles between kisses, “there happens to be much more time for other things.”

“things like taking the head nurse against the door of your home?”

“perhaps,” he smiles with a chuckle.

who would’ve thought alhaitham could smile so painfully charming? just a few weeks ago, you had never seen him smile before at all, willing to bet that he’d never smiled a day after stepping into adulthood with that seriousness he holds so dearly.

“i don’t have much time,” you hum in between kisses, fingers fiddling with the short hair at the nape of his neck.

“we’ll make do, i’m sure,” he says through a breathy groan, already semi-hard as your thigh slots between his legs, rubbing against the forming tent in his pants.

your head tilts up as his head buries into your neck, lips branding searing kisses into your skin. you wonder if this is what it feels like to be his, to be stamped with his affections one kiss at a time until no one else could hope to have you. your eyes flutter shut, sighing as he sucks attentively to your sweet spot.

“don’t leave marks,” you scold, “i can’t show up to the bimarstan looking so scandalous.”

you’ve felt his lips against your skin enough times that you can tell them by heart. you don’t have to look to know they’re pouting against your neck—you can feel it against your skin. you giggle, cupping the back of his head as your fingers delicately thread through his hair.

“i’m meant to hold back then?” he grumbles. it’s almost petulant, but he still softens the nipping against your skin, careful to leave no evidence of his existence against you, however disgruntled he might be.

“don’t be so whiny,” you laugh. archons must have it out for you, though, because as soon as you say that, his hardened cock brushes against your crotch, making you whine at the friction. it’s something, but it’s hardly anything at all—the separation from the fabric makes everything not nearly enough.

he seems to know it, too, because he pulls away, eyeing you with a certain gleam in his eyes that looks like a cross between smug and amused.

“i’ll try,” he says smugly. you glare, but you’re cut off by the brush of his cock against that sensitive spot between your thighs once more, his hips grinding against you as you fall slack against the door. you can feel him rub against your clit, sending shockwaves along your spine as your back arches and you breathlessly moan his name.

at first, he only does it to tease you, but after the first few rolls of his hips, it’s evident he can’t bring himself to stop. it’s not enough, not for either of you. the ache settling between your legs can’t be quelled with a few simple rolls of his hips with fabric separating you both from each other. but alhaitham’s sense of control seems to wash away with the tidal waves of pleasure, each thrust of his hips brushing his cock against your heat and leaving him panting into your shoulder.

“m-more,” you plead, grabbing at his cape and fisting the material as you hold onto him tightly, “i need more—please.”

alhaitham, for all his composure and self-preservation, is simple to take apart when his throbbing cock is pressed against your cunt, rubbing against the length and building the pressure he so desperately needs.

he doesn’t even seem to hear you, hot breath fanning against the crook of your neck as he buries his head and groans, hips sloppy and rough as they rut into you. you can feel the outline of his cock clearly even through his pants and yours, hot and undoubtedly hard. the bulge in his pants brushes against your clit through yours—and even if it’s nowhere close to feeling him inside of you, you can feel yourself just about to break.

“sorry,” he gasps, “sorry—c-can’t stop. i-i’m c-close. so close.”

the last part comes out like a plead. it’s like he’s begging you to free him of this torment, like he needs you to make him fall over the edge because he can’t bring himself there. you think that might be the case, so you wrap your fingers around his hair and tug.

he moans—maybe if you were feeling teasing, you’d call it a whine and watch his cheeks flush as he scowls. but there’s no chance for that. not when you’re both so close, so achingly close that you can just make out the twitch of his cock in his pants.

and then the doorknob twists.

a series of muffled curses can be heard through the other side of the door, and you both pause—rigid, tense, stiffly alert as your eyes widen. his head perks up from its place in your neck, staring at the doorknob in equal parts rage and equal parts confusion, like he blames it for cutting you both short of a much-needed, much-wanted orgasm.

“oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” you hear a voice groan exasperatedly through the door, “again?”

you’re completely lost. who could be trying to enter alhaitham’s house at this hour?

the only hope you have for answers is, of course, alhaitham—one look at the recognition and irritation on his face, and you can piece together that it’s certainly no stranger. alhaitham, if his cold glare could freeze anything where it stands, could potentially risk turning sumeru into the next snezhnaya. his eyes are hardened, and his jaw is clenched as he breathes out a heavy sigh through his nose.

“and you’re kidding me,” he mutters bitterly. “now?”

“hey! i know you’re home! open this door and stop pretending like you can’t hear me,” the voice demands, tapping on the door with more conviction than the last time.

you furrow your eyebrows and look at him expectantly; an explanation demanded through the crinkles of your forehead as you look at him in confusion. he pulls away, jaw still tight as he adjusts himself in his pants, trying his best to hide the still painful erection he sports.

“my roommate,” he says quietly. deadly.

you almost feel bad for the poor soul that must be waiting on the other side of the door, unaware of the pure wrath he must be about to face judging by the look on alhaitham’s face.

you hear the voice again, “ugh! you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? you—”

“calm down,” alhaitham calls, unimpressed and unamused as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. he seems to hold it for a moment like he’s fighting the tension in his body, before he slumps and lets out another sigh. this time, it’s much more defeated as he gives you an apologetic look when his eyes open.

you both adjust your appearances, erasing any trace of debauchery before you step aside and let him approach the door.

the swing of the door opening is a rather aggressive one, and alhaitham stands taller and straighter than you’ve ever seen him, like he’s trying to tower over the figure that enters the house.

you recognize him immediately.

“oh!” you gasp in awe, “you’re that architect! the one who designed the palace of alcazarzaray!”

both men look equally as haunted by your statement. alhaitham’s eye all but twitches as he takes in the breathless admiration in your voice—you’re no doubt praising kaveh’s work. as for the latter…well, he looks like he might just about launch himself into the blade of an eremite willingly the first chance he gets.

“wh-who are you?” kaveh demands, “and what are you doing here?”

“she’s obviously a guest of mine,” alhaitham shoots coolly, tone as condescending as ever. “have you lost all manners? that’s no way to greet a guest.”

“what did you say to me? i want to hear nothing of the sort from you—god knows your temper isn’t one to speak on my manners.”

kaveh turns to you, taking one better look at you, squinting as he thinks for a moment before realization flashes across his features. he seems to recognize you—though most people in sumeru do know you quite well. the nurses at the bimarstan are limited, these days.

“ah! you’re the head nurse from the bimarstan! you looked at my wrist,” he recalls.

you smile, nodding as you gesture at his hand and ask kindly, “is it better now? i do hope it’s not as sore anymore. did you apply heat as i suggested? and i hope you’re taking ample rest in between sketches—architects are very prone to sore wrists as is, you know.”

alhaitham rolls his eyes at your lecture, grumbling, “as if he would follow anyone’s advice. he’s far too stubborn.”

“i’ll have you know that i followed her advice quite closely,” kaveh says pointedly. he turns to you, voice much softer as he smiles and adds, “and my wrist is much better, thank you.”

“of course,” you nod. and then you pause, staring between the two unsurely as you falter and ask, “but…i wasn’t aware you two were friends. alhaitham tells me you’re his roommate—he’s never mentioned you before today, though.”

they both glare at each other through the corners of their eyes. something tells you maybe friends was a bit of an exaggerated term. alhaitham makes no moves to speak, crossing his arms and staring expectantly at kaveh—the blonde scoffs, shaking his head with a scowl.

“friends…is a generous word. we’re roommates,” he nods in confirmation, “i’ve…ran into some trouble for the time being, so i’m staying here for a bit. won’t be much long, however. i need a space less…suffocating.”

“and how well is that plan faring for you?” alhaitham’s words seem to poke at kaveh, riling the blonde up further as you watch the scene before you awkwardly.

“you—” but before kaveh can finish whatever retaliation was on the cusp of his tongue, he pauses. it’s like all at once, the situation hits him before he’s staring between the two of you, instead. “hang on a moment. how do the both of you know each other? i didn’t know alhaitham was acquainted enough with the head nurse for her to pay a visit.”

“well,” you start, trailing off as you cough lightly, tensing as the question throws you off guard. “umm…alhaitham visits the bimarstan sometimes after his trips to the desert. so…”

so what? how would that explain your visit to his home? it’s not as though you become friendly with all your patients and drop them a visit—in fact, alhaitham is the only one you’ve ever done that for. and of course, it’s not just a visit that you’re doing here. but kaveh doesn’t need to know that.

that would be quite the scandal—getting so intimate with a regular patient. and apart from that, you and alhaitham aren’t exactly in an ideal situation. what would you tell kaveh? that you come over just to hook up? it’s not exactly a rare occurrence to have a beneficial relationship with someone like this, but still…admitting it like that is a bit too shameless for your liking.

and then there’s a much more complicated, much less easy-to-tackle problem, too. you’re not even sure if you can confidently say you don’t have feelings for the scribe. that’s not something you were counting on, ever. saying you only partake in intimate activities with no strings attached might just hit you too hard in the gut, even if it’s not exactly a lie. but admitting the words out loud isn’t something you’re prepared to do.

almost like he senses your turmoil, alhaitham steps in, bless his soul. he almost looks a bit conflicted, studying you carefully. you don’t have time to dwell on it, though, before he speaks.

“so she came to check on a wound she patched up,” he finishes for you, quick and easy and confident enough in his words that it makes up for your nerves. he quicks a fleeting glance at you before raising an eyebrow to kaveh. “i left in a hurry and didn’t really let her properly tend to it last time. not that it’s your business, of course. i’m perfectly within my rights to bring guests over to my house.”

“be careful,” kaveh glowers, “anymore attitude, and you’ll risk showing your guests your true colors if you’re not cautious. you wouldn’t want to make a bad impression on the same person who tends to your wounds, do you? that would be fatal.”

“you two are quite the duo,” you chuckle, shaking your head, “it seems alhaitham has finally met his match verbally. you truly don’t let him have the last say.”

alhaitham almost looks offended, looking at you in disbelief. “i am not outmatched by his—”

“if it’s not too much trouble,” kaveh laughs nervously, cutting alhaitham off with a sharp look, “could you keep this…uh arrangement of ours a secret? i don’t really want this getting around and such.”

“my lips are sealed,” you promise. kaveh perks up, relief sagging into his shoulders at that before he nods, giving you a friendly smile as he waves at you.

“i’ll be off to finish a project, then. nice seeing you.”

as soon as he walks away and you’re certain the door to his room shuts, you let out a soft breath of relief.

“that was close,” you whisper, “he could’ve figured it out.”

“right,” alhaitham says vaguely. he doesn’t say much else, arms still crossed as he stands there and looks at you—something about the way alhaitham stares at you is too uncomfortable for your liking.

not because he looks at you weirdly or even inappropriately, but because it almost feels like he can pick apart every thought in your head just by his gaze alone.

you shuffle on your feet before you give him a tight smile.

“i should go—the patients are never-ending these days,” you chuckle nervously.

“make sure you don’t overwork yourself,” he nods.

you linger for a moment. you’re not sure why. it’s not as though you can expect him to give you a goodbye kiss—that would be preposterous. and far too wishful.

so instead, you give him a small wave before turning towards the door—but he stops you before you can reach for the door handle, pulling you flush against him, your back to his chest.

“will you come back tonight?” he whispers, voice low and husky as he presses his still-hard crotch against you. you shiver as he nips at your skin to get his point across.

“what about kaveh?” you ask softly, biting your lip, unsure. the little voice in your head screams, who cares about kaveh?

“he’ll be dead asleep,” he snorts, “last night was the third all-nighter he pulled. there’s no chance he’ll make it past seven pm today.”

“you’re insatiable,” you tease, shaking your head as you snort. “do you know that?”

“i’ve never had a decline on your end,” he shoots back.

“i have a shift later tonight,” you say apologetically, sighing as you think about the extra hours you’ll have to put in soon, “there aren’t enough people tonight without me.”

“you should really speak to someone about this funding cut,” he frowns, slumping against you, “it’s getting out of hand.”

“no one listens.” your voice is so defeated, so uncharacteristically tired. you’re sure he notices it in a heartbeat—you notice it yourself. “but i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“sure,” is all he says.

hesitantly, you pull away. his hands leave your hips reluctantly, too, like they’re most comfortable when they have you to house them. but neither of you say anything, simply nodding at each other as you look at him over your shoulder and exit through the door.

the footsteps down his steps and away from his home are the heaviest ones you’ve taken all week.

you decide you hate the sand. and that stupid line you both seem to have drawn.

——————————

it takes two failed attempts at fucking alhaitham to realize you’re not strictly only after the physical pleasure he brings.

the first time, you weren’t even disappointed you didn’t get that far. it was only a disappointment that he was gone when you woke, and you realize it’s because the absence of him is why you’re even let down in the first place. the second time, you’re unhappy because you have to keep the nature of your relationship a secret—that’s a more complex problem.

it’s secret because it has to be, because of how lewd it is by nature and how partially unprofessional it is. but you decide you also hate it to be a secret. no one knows that you see alhaitham bare and at his most vulnerable, and you can’t handle that anymore. especially when you watch a nurse flirt so poorly with him right before your eyes.

“oh, it’s you, acting grand sage,” she giggles, “what can i do for you today?”

“i’ve actually returned to my previous position as scribe,” he corrects, entirely unaffected.

“oh, is that so?” she gasps—you know it’s all for show. everyone is aware of his stepping down. “well, i, for one, think it’s a shame. you were so capable as a leader.”

alhaitham doesn’t like leading. for all he claims it’s because it’s too much trouble and far more work than he appreciates, you know that it’s also because the easiest way to never be swayed by power is to stay far away from it. he keeps himself grounded this way. he uses his smarts for only what’s necessary and only enough to quell his thirst for knowledge and never anything more. his principles are admirable.

and should the next grand sage also abuse such power like the last, he’ll step up from his humble position as scribe and fix the problem again—because that’s what he knows to do best. use his genius to solve issues as they arise, not control the situation entirely.

of course, she wouldn’t know that. she doesn’t know anything about him.

you fight back the roll of your eyes with the last shreds of self-preservation you have left.

“the position wasn’t really for me,” he says plainly. “any idea where the head nurse might be? i have some business to discuss with her.”

it shouldn’t satisfy you as much as it does when she deflates at at his dismissal. but does—enough that you saunter up with a grin on your lips as you greet the two.

“why hello. what business does the scribe have with little old me?” you hum. the nurse becomes background noise when your eyes meet his teal ones, staring at the small fleck of amber in his pupils while his piercing gaze rakes over your face as if to study you.

you feel oddly seen under his stare—he’s seen you stripped and bare, at your most vulnerable under him. but somehow, you’ve never thought about it much in the moment like now. right now, he sees you with a clear mind, without the clouding haze of lust to fog his mind. right now, he can see you for every flaw and every imperfection, so up close. he can notice the way your fingers fiddle with themselves to calm your nerves. he can catch every nervous shuffle on your heels as you fight the urge to lean into him from the proximity.

finally, you break out of your trance when the nurse clears her throat and mumbles, “i’ll uh..i’ll be off, then.”

he blinks at the same time as you, shaking his head slightly to bring himself back to the present as he clears his throat.

“can we speak somewhere more private?” he asks quietly. you don’t know if that’s a good thing or bad. but you nod nonetheless, leading him to an empty room as he follows.

it’s a long, painstakingly dreadful walk. your mind is filled with too many possible scenarios that it’s a miracle your brain is even functioning properly. it should short circuit. what if he wants to end your arrangement? what if he’s aware of your slowly shifting feelings (if you can even call them that)? what if he’s found someone he’s interested in? what if his roommate has pieced together something, and now he needs to come up with a cover?

the possibilities are endless, and they plague your mind so heavily that your lip is chewed raw by the time you enter the room and shut it behind him as he follows you in.

“you wanted to talk?” you ask hesitantly.

he doesn’t say anything—the only thing he does is press a folded piece of paper in your hands as you stare at him, confused.

“open it,” he insists.

so you do. and reading over it makes you pause as you glance up at him in disbelief. the bimarstan funding—more than doubled.

“what?” you breathe, in absolute awe, “how…how is this possible?”

“i’ve pulled a few strings,” he says plainly, shrugging. as always, he brushes off his actions as though he hasn’t just changed your entire job for the better. “it’s a nice perk of being an ex-sage.”

“you’ve used corruption just to help me?” your words are a playful jab—but there’s still an underlying question that you really do mean to ask. why go to such lengths for me?

“it’s hardly corruption,” he grumbles, crossing his arms. the dust of red over the tips of his ears is the only thing that gives away the slightly flustered part of him, “i had a few favors owed to me, and the conditions here play an important role to everyone in sumeru. it was a simple correction to their terrible decision-making skills.”

“oh, haitham,” you chuckle. this time, the nickname really does make him flush more obviously, his eyes darting away to look off to the side as he clears his throat again.

“well, that’s all,” he says stiffly, “i have to go home and…and make dinner. kaveh is of no help.”

“sure,” you beam, looking at him knowingly. you pause for a moment, contemplating before you cave and add, “and thank you. really.”

“it’s really nothing to look into,” he says awkwardly, “hopefully, now you can work fewer hours.”

“the other nurses will also really appreciate it,” you say softly, “i’ll be sure to let them know—they’ll really have the hots for you this time,” you snort, making an indirect reference to earlier. he shivers, like the thought leaves him unnerved.

“that one nurse of yours hasn’t left me alone since i stepped up as grand sage for that short while,” he grumbles, making you snort at the troubled look on his face. it shouldn’t make you feel as good as it does to see him so disgusted by the affections of someone else, but you’re only human. “doesn’t take a genius to figure out why.”

“oh c’mon, she’s sweet,” you tease. now that you know he’s uninterested, it’s fun to mess with him and get under his skin, giggling as you reach over and poke at his arm.

“perhaps,” he shrugs, “but not very good at keeping her emotions in check. i’ve known her since my student days—i don’t think i could last one day with her lack of…composure.”

“what, you’re too above emotions?” you ask amused, “i would disagree. you’re a rather grumpy man, you know.”

“am i?” he fights back a grin, “i hardly noticed.”

“without your morning coffee, yes,” you quip.

he laughs, shaking his head as he stares at you with something that looks oddly close to fondness in his eyes before he murmurs, “i do really need to make dinner. kaveh will truly whine my ear off if i don’t tonight.”

“have fun,” you pinch his cheek. he rolls his eyes, and with that, he nods to you and leaves, swiftly walking away and leaving you to yourself in the empty room with the slip of paper in your hands, a lovesick smile still on your face.

you don’t even know where the line starts or where it ends anymore. all you know is that you’ve undoubtedly crossed it all on your own—and it might be the end of you, truly.

——————————

it takes one nice gesture from alhaitham to make you realize you’ve fallen hopelessly hard for him. before, every small action of intimacy was always just the two of you being friends, amicable and good-natured in between sex.

now, you’re not sure you could spend a single minute next to him without wondering what it would feel like to do those things as a couple.

sometimes, after sex, alhaitham likes to read. because it’s hard for him to sleep, and he doesn’t want to disturb you from your much-needed rest after a long day at the hospital. you don’t realize how reliant you’ve become on the sound of his pages flipping until you lay in bed alone, tossing and turning under your sheets as you try your hardest to sleep.

you can’t. not when all you think about is him. him, him, him. he’s all your mind drifts to nowadays.

but you know alhaitham—better than a lot of people, in fact, seeing as you get to see parts of him that are otherwise… off-limits. being in a relationship is the last thing he wants, especially with you. otherwise, he’d have told you by now. you’re scared of a lot of things, scared to speak your mind, and tend to overthink too much for your own good.

but alhaitham? he’s blunt and to the point. if he’d wanted something more with you, if the line had blurred and blurred for him until it risked being nonexistent like it did for you, he’d have said something. but he hasn’t—and neither can you.

because you know as soon as you do, it’ll be over. the kind gestures, the gentle touches, the heated kisses, the nightly visits, all of it. gone with the wind as it blows the line in the sand away for good—not because he wants to cross it, but because it simply doesn’t need to exist anymore if he never speaks to you again.

alhaitham is not a romantically inclined guy. he’s good-looking enough that not just a handful of girls have tried their hand at confessing to him, and he’s always turned them down instantly. you’ve seen it, heard about it, know it to be true. and apart from that, are you both even that compatible?

sure, you get along great as is, but a relationship is much deeper than that. you’ve always appreciated how honest he was, how straightforward he put things. but relationships come with a lot more vulnerability and emotions than you’ve ever shown him. his bluntness will be too easy to mistake for casual cruelty when you’re in over your head. he’s quiet; he doesn’t appreciate too much interaction—would he even enjoy going on dates? what if you insisted on an evening out, and all he wanted to do was stay in and read? would he want to do all that stuff? everything you want seems like it would be something of a chore for him, something that makes him see you as a chore.

he even said it himself the other day, calling that nurse too emotional for his liking. sure, it was an off-handed comment, but you’re one emotional day away from potentially being too much for him too. you couldn’t handle that. not when you like him so, so much. not when you want him so bad, you couldn’t handle him not wanting you just as badly.

would he even want you that badly? logic tells you no—and logic is at the forefront of his mind at all times. your emotionally charged outlook on life would be a bleeding mess of color in his neutral, logically categorized approach.

you’d be dooming yourself to loving a man who would hardly know what to do with your affections.

so you do the only sound solution to this predicament of yours—you end things before he can do it himself. it’s inevitable, of course. whether it’s in a few weeks or months, eventually, alhaitham will grow bored of your casual fling. and he’ll end things, completely fine and normal while you fall apart at the seams. the best thing you can do for yourself is let things end on your own terms, and early on, too, before the feelings fester into something all too serious.

it’s not as though you love him yet—things are still early on enough to make sense of them.

or is it? some part of your mind asks viciously, are you sure you don’t love him?

you push away the thought as quickly as it pops into your head. rolling your shoulders back, you straighten your posture, taking a deep breath before you knock on his door.

he opens it instantly, smiling that small, ghost of a smile of his. you falter immediately.

“hey,” he hums, swinging his door wider, “come in.”

“no, that’s okay,” you say stiffly, not meeting his eyes, “i…can’t today.”

“oh.” you hate that you can hear the frown in his voice and practically see the confused crinkle of his eyebrows. “did you want to talk about something, then?”

yes, you want to say. there’s a lot i want to talk about.

there’s a lot you should talk about—and if you were keen on discussing this like an adult, you would lay it all out on the table.

instead, you blurt out, “i think we should stop.”

he eyes you carefully, raising a questioning brow as he asks, “stop what?”

“this,” you point between the two of you, “whatever…whatever this is we’re doing.”

and just as you expected, his face is blank, so neutral and so hard to read you want to scream at him. yell at him for making you want him so bad when you can’t even tell if he’s even a fraction as crazy as you. does he want you? he certainly treats you well sometimes, but maybe that’s just because you get his dick wet and stitch up a few wounds here and there for him. does he actually even toss and turn and stay up thinking about you the way you think about him?

the answer is probably no. you don’t even want to find out if you’re right or not. but he’s never made you believe he has, so you don’t entirely think you’re wrong in your assumptions.

“and what are we doing?” he must be playing dumb, you think.

“hooking up,” you hiss, “having sex. fucking. whatever you want to call it, alhaitham. we have to end it. now.”

“and what brought this on?” he crosses his arms.

you want to ask him why he’s being so cruel, so intent on keeping you when you clearly can’t stay, when there are so many women who would throw themselves at him for a chance to get in bed with him if a physical partner is what he’s so hellbent on keeping. but you can’t be that for him any longer, not when your emotions are tired of being a jumbled mess that slowly but surely eat away at your decaying soul.

“we…we’re just…it’s not—we just have to, okay? i don’t appreciate you treating me like i’m easy.”

“wha—when have i ever treated you as such?” he looks at you bewildered, getting defensive.

“that’s not what i meant,” you pinch your nose, groaning as you try to process the words you want to say in your spinning head. everything is too much—the way he’s close, the way your body feels aflame from just standing near him, the way your eyes are involuntarily misting over. “this…this is just an easy arrangement, that’s all. for both of us. but i don’t want to be someone’s quick and easy hook-up for the sake of convenience. i need…i need something more from someone, so we should stop while we can so i can find myself that.”

there’s a minimal twitch of his jaw as he clenches and unclenches it, nodding slowly.

“you want something more, is that it?”

“w-well, yes—but that’s not what i entirely meant, so don’t read into it—”

“so how would ending this get you that, then?” he challenges. you hate that he makes you feel stupid, that he looks at you like you’re not thinking when that’s all you’ve been doing these last few…archons know how long. he’s plagued your mind for so much time you can’t even pinpoint for how long.

“i want something more, but not from you,” you spit, slamming your hands to slap against your thighs in frustration, “that’s obviously why i’m ending it! must you always make everything difficult?”

he doesn’t speak, silently stunned a bit at your outburst. so you take a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down before you collect your thoughts better.

“i just…i’m sorry, okay? i didn’t mean to yell at you like this is your fault. i…i can’t say i can get into bed with you anymore without wanting us to actually mean something to each other, and i know that’s not what you want—”

“who said that’s not what i want?” he interrupts, looking at you with the first hints of emotions all day. there’s a small etch of frustration building in the twitch of his brows as he continues, “you’ve just decided for me how i feel, and that’s a bit unfair, don’t you think?”

“you’ve never said anything about how you feel,” you shoot back.

“well, neither have you, but that doesn’t mean—”

“i may not have said it, but you’re telling me you never noticed? i do your laundry for you, for crying out loud, alhaitham! and you’ve never so much as dropped a hint!”

“i see,” he nods slowly, going back to the blank slate that is his face. still so infuriatingly neutral and unbothered by it all that you can’t help but lose it a little.

how can he be so unbothered? how can he be so calm and collected when you feel like you might need to check yourself into the bimarstan yourself from the stress of it all? you’ve spent weeks, months in each other’s beds. familiarized yourselves with every part of each other’s bodies. he knows about that birthmark no one else sees, and you trace that mole on his left pec every night before you sleep. you’ve slowly but surely been dying to cross the threshold of just friends (with a few perks, of course), and here he is, nodding along as you tell him you want him, want more of him.

and he’s got nothing to say. because, for some reason, after months of feeling you, spending nights and days tucked away against you, he doesn’t seem to feel the same, so he doesn’t have much to offer you. how can he be so unbothered by your presence after months with you? is it really that easy not to be affected by you?

some part of you lets go of the hold on your control as you snap, “and this is why we can’t have anything more.”

“why’s that?” he tilts his head, voice an uncharacteristic edge to it, “enlighten me.”

“because…because…because you’re you!”

finally, a flash of hurt crosses his face, making itself home in his eyes and forehead as it crinkles at your words. he studies you, quiet. unnervingly quiet that you almost wonder if you’re just deaf.

“are you trying to say there’s something wrong with me?” he presses, looking so lost that you almost feel guilty.

not as much as you feel like you’re about to cry, though.

“yes,” you say without thinking—and the way hurt settles into his eyes more makes you scramble to reword things so you don’t sound like a total jerk, “i mean no! i mean…i mean you’re just you, and you and i won’t mix.”

“we won’t mix,” he repeats, blinking. “interesting—”

you can’t stop yourself from going on the tangent now that you’ve begun, spilling your every thought one by one as you cut him off, “you’re so quiet, and it’s unnerving, you know? you never speak a single thought on your mind, you’d rather just read than talk about your day. and everything you say is so painfully to the point—would it kill you to soften the blow sometimes? people don’t always need the cold, hard truth, okay? sometimes, saying what someone wants to hear can make all the difference. and…and…i don’t know, okay? i need someone who can work with my emotions without applying logic to everything, and that’s not you so…so we have to end things because it’s not fair to either of us. i want it to actually mean something with someone when i’m with them, and you don’t want someone to taint everything with their fragile feelings, so we need to go our separate ways. okay?”

you’re practically panting when you’re done speaking, and alhaitham is just standing, thinking, processing everything you’ve said in that painfully complex head of his.

finally, he breaks the silence and says, “i didn’t know so many things about me bothered you.”

“they didn’t,” you sigh, “not until recently. i guess…i guess it just hit me how difficult it would be to get along in a proper relationship.”

“you know that because what? you think it?”

“i know it because i’m actually looking at things realistically,” you say exasperatedly, “just because we had sex for a few months doesn’t automatically mean we’re a compatible pair.”

“we haven’t really gotten to know much outside of sex to decide that,” he shakes his head, “i’m not understanding how you can so easily dismiss these feelings by deciding it won’t work—”

“look, alhaitham,” you cut him off, voice so uncharacteristically small, he pauses to look at you in shock, “i’ve been slowly losing it for weeks, okay? the last thing i need is for you to make things difficult for me. you’re a good guy, and i really, really wish things were different, but i just need more than what you can give me without completely changing yourself. neither of us should have to compromise anything about ourselves for things to work.”

“you don’t know if i’d be willing to give you what you need or not,” he says quietly, “maybe i wouldn’t be changing a thing.”

“then what about that girl?” you scoff, “the one you said was too emotional for you to handle? you think i’m just being crazy? you said it yourself, so what else should i believe?”

“her? she’s different—”

“why? because she’s not me? because she doesn’t let you in her bed? you’ll find my emotions just as burdensome as hers one day, and then what? we fall back on sex to keep the spark alive?”

something about him is defeated. shoulders slumped, eyes dim, and arms uncrossing to lay limply at his sides. he takes a deep breath before nodding, looking at you so intensely you almost feel frozen in place.

“okay,” he whispers, “if this is what you want. that’s fine.”

his door closes, and your first tear slips.

——————————

nine days. that’s how long it’s been without alhaitham. your mind tells you this is for the best, but your heart is practically on its knees, begging you to reconsider.

a part of you wonders if you were being unfair like he said, judging him before you could properly give him a chance. the other part of you thinks it’s important not to let attachment cloud your better judgment. alhaitham is a good man; there’s no doubt about it.

but is he a man good for you? that part is a difficult question to answer. protecting your heart seems like the safest option. still, you can’t help but miss him horrifically often. it doesn’t hit you how badly you’ve fallen for him until you don’t see him anymore. no more late nights at your place, no more afternoons at his, and no more routine bimarstan visits.

your life has at least gotten a bit easier, though—more funding means more people to hire, and more people to hire means fewer grueling hours for you. though, when you really think about it, you owe this small win to the exact man who’s been plaguing your thoughts.

you intend to drink your woes away, but it seems even in the tavern, you can’t escape him—well, not exactly him, but his roommate. but kaveh still reminds you of alhaitham, so the cleared head you hoped for is out of the question for the night.

the thing about kaveh, though, is that he’s loud. painfully so, and especially when he’s drunk. you could hear him from the other end of teyvat, you think—it’s hard to ignore him even if you want to.

“he’s been insufferable lately,” kaveh huffs, “worse than usual. that awful temper of his needs to really get a check because i’m not sure how much more i can take.”

you didn’t know kaveh was friends with the general mahamatra—seeing cyno loosened up with a deck of tcg cards was not on your list of expectations for the night, but you can’t help but listen in when he adds, “his last few reports to me from his investigations were not up to his…usual work ethic, either. i’m not sure what’s up with him.”

“maybe he’s overworked,” tighnari suggests—you know him as a fellow amurta scholar, recognizing him from your student days. you hadn’t realized alhaitham was friends with such an interesting assortment of people—well, you don’t know if kaveh fits as a friend, but the other two seem like safe bets.

“i don’t think so,” kaveh grumbles, “he’s hardly been sleeping. it’s not like he takes work home with him, you think he’d be the type? but he’s been drinking all the coffee—i actually work into the night. shouldn’t he at least leave some for me?”

“i wonder what’s up with him,” cyno hums thoughtfully, “he must really be brewing in his emotions.”

you snort at the poor pun, watching as the other two around him wince and groan.

finally, kaveh sighs, rubbing his temple as he mumbles, “i don’t know. i’ve never seen him like this. i think it’s serious.”

that makes guilt pool in your gut, making you feel so full that even one sip of your drink feels like too much. you’ve lost all desire to drink your sorrows away—you couldn’t have possibly dampened someone like alhaitham so deeply, could you? he’s always been unaffected by things more than others, and you’d never imagined him to care that deeply about your relationship. if you could call it that, even.

“what do you suppose has brought this on then?” tighnari’s ears twitch in worry, “he’s…not exactly the most emotionally available.”

well, at least you’re not alone in your beliefs.

“i don’t know,” kaveh says quietly—and even if they claim not to be friends, you don’t think they hate each other a fraction as much as they let on because his voice seems to be twinged with clear worry himself as he adds, “his eyes have been red in the mornings. it can’t be something small.”

that’s all you can stomach to hear before you slam your glass down and swiftly make a beeline for the tavern’s exit. some part of you, weak and bound to alhaitham, is unable to listen any longer about his misery. the misery you caused. the misery you brought yourselves both because insecurities ebbed and flowed into the deepest crevices of your mind and rotted away at the reasonable parts.

of course, you’re different. of course, there’s a chance things will go sour. of course, it won’t be easy. but isn’t that the case for every relationship? love was never meant to be a simple feat—otherwise, it would never be half as scary to take the fall.

but you’ve been careful, too careful. so careful that you forgot to let yourself try and be happy, and so careful that you’ve stomped on someone’s feelings enough that his friends exchange their worries over drinks instead of having a good time with him.

so you decide that enough is enough. if alhaitham isn’t meant to be yours, then celestia themselves will have to take him from you—because you’re not risking losing him a second time.

not again.

——————————

contrary to popular belief, alhaitham has never been difficult to track down if you simply know where to look. he might be good at making himself scarce, but there’s only a handful of places he could be. the light of his home shining through the window tells you that your first guess is not very off.

you knock, silently staring at the tips of your shoes as he slowly opens the door.

“hey,” you murmur as soon as the door swings open. you haven’t even looked up yet, but you’re certain he has the same neutral expression on his face. but kaveh is right about one thing—his eyes are definitely a little red.

“hey,” he says quietly.

it’s awkward for a moment. you don’t know what to say, and he doesn’t have any intentions to fill the silence. some time ago, that worried you. his quietness came across as an inability to keep up healthy communication. but now, you miss it—the quiet flip of his pages as he sat beside you, shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh. the way he let out a soft little breath when you lay on his chest, rubbing his palm slowly in circles against the small of your back. the soft, peaceful silence of his presence.

you never appreciated it enough, the comfort of knowing you’re valued without having to say anything at all.

“listen, i—”

“you don’t have to—”

you both stop, pausing when you speak at the same time.

“go ahead,” you say instantly.

he clears his throat, shaking his head as he swallows. “no,” he mumbles, ever the gentleman, “no, that’s okay. you go first.”

you think your nerves might just explode one by one if you have to wait any longer, so you don’t bother putting up much more of a fight, nodding before fiddling with your fingers as you take a deep breath.

the words spill faster than you can process what you’re saying. a long, jumbled string of thoughts that rattle off your tongue like a dam finally breaking at the leaking crack.

“i was wrong. for all the things i said, i mean. there’s nothing wrong with you, you know? you’re really kind, and you remember the little things, and you always keep your promises, and those are really nice things. and i don’t hate when you’re quiet, by the way. i used to think it bothered me, but i miss it, you know? just having you sit next to me and read and stuff. i guess…i guess i just never bothered trying to think about how to love you the way you needed because i was so busy worrying if you could love me the way i needed and…and i just fucked a lot of things up. i got in my head and made a lot of assumptions that weren’t fair and just…i got cold feet. and i’m sorry. and i love you—really, really love you. all of you. you don’t have to believe me or even say anything at all. i just needed you to know all that because you deserve to.”

he’s silent. you can’t tell whether from being stunned or from disinterest. both are fair, regardless—you think alhaitham could slam the door shut in your face, and you’d deserve it. but he doesn’t. because just as always, he’s your same, kind, gentle alhaitham underneath all of the blunt stoicism.

“i lied,” you whisper, “i do want you to say something. anything.”

“i don’t know what you want me to say,” he stares at his feet, still looking as hurt as the day you left him. “you…you just assumed i wouldn’t be able to love you, is what i’m gathering.”

“i just thought…” you swallow thickly, tongue like sandpaper against your dry mouth, “i just thought we were too different.”

“i thought we got along well,” he shrugs, trying to pretend there isn’t as much hurt on his features as there is, “maybe i misread things.”

“no,” you shake your head desperately, “no, i overthought them, that’s all.”

“why did you leave me?” he asks hoarsely, “why couldn’t we have talked about things?”

you want to say because you were a coward, maybe even a hypocrite. you insisted he’d be too constipated emotionally to communicate properly with you, but all you’ve done was decide things for him and avoid the hard, heart-to-heart talk.

really, it’s because you were never brave enough to try and love alhaitham the way he would have loved you. the way he loves you. you were blind to see it—weren’t even willing to believe that he ever would. not until after you let him go and realized what you had. he’d walked you home, made sure you got proper rest, pulled strings, and used up favors just to make things better for you. and you missed all the signs, all because it was so easy to walk away, to label his blunt nature as causal cruelty, to confuse his quietness as disinterest, to assume his logic was the absence of emotion. you never gave him a chance because you were never brave enough to take the fall.

but alhaitham was always ready to catch you, arms aching to wrap around your form and hold you. not because he wanted you to love him, but because all he’s ever wanted was to love you.

you think that’s the difference between the two of you. you’ve always wanted to be loved, and he’s always wanted to love. you’ve always wanted to take and he’s always wanted to give. you’ve always wanted him to be enough, and he’s always wanted you to know you’re enough and more.

it’s too much to tell him though, so you settle on cupping his cheeks and whispering, “because you scare me. the way you make me feel.”

“how do i make you feel?”

not too long ago, you’d think he was asking just to confirm what he already knows. now, you know he’s asking because he needs to hear the words for his own sake. just to be sure. just to ease the uncertainty in his own head.

“you make me feel a lot of things, haitham,” you murmur, “you make me feel happy. appreciated. very pretty. capable. important. sometimes a little dumb,” you giggle as he frowns, squeezing his cheeks as you add, “but only because you’re so smart. i could list a few other things you make me feel, but…they’re not as proper.”

“i thought…just…d-did i do something?” he asks, voice hesitant. there’s a painful, awful squeeze in your heart at his words. but your heart is the last of your worries right now—it’s the least you can do, putting your feelings aside for his own, seeing as you’ve stomped all over his.

so, in an effort to show him that everything is okay, you smile—you’re sure it’s a pathetic, wobbly little thing, but you don’t have time to care. not when he’s right here, under your fingertips, and one possible moment away from slipping away.

a watery chuckle escapes you as you whisper, “no. you didn’t do anything—it was me. but i’m not running away anymore…if you still want me, that is.”

“you’re all i want,” he says instantly. “the only thing.”

“i know,” you breathe, “and you are all i want too.”

you kiss him. because he deserves to feel you choose him, to feel you close the gap and show him you’re here. your lips press gently against his, molding into them like two pieces of a puzzle—except you don’t think neither of you fit anywhere else but each other. incomplete without each other and unable to fit anywhere else. your thumb traces the soft, warm skin of his cheek, soothingly caressing it as if to let him know i’m here, and i’m not going anywhere.

he stumbles back, and you follow him in, pressing against the door of his home just like those days ago before an unwelcomed interruption. this time, though, you think kaveh could freeze outside all you care—you’re not letting anything interrupt this moment.

“i’ve been losing my mind for weeks too,” he mumbles in between gasps for air as you kiss, “just so you know. it wasn’t you alone.”

“that’s good to know,” you hum, grinning against his mouth.

“and i thought i was giving signs,” he adds, “that’s why i went through the trouble to fix your schedule. so i could spend more time with you—i…i apologize if i wasn’t obvious with my intentions.”

“don’t be,” you say softly, “i’m the one who missed them. you did everything right.”

“did i?” he asks, unsure.

you press your lips firmly against his when you hear the crack in his voice, as if sheer touch alone will express the way you feel. maybe it does, though—because he melts against you, letting out a soft moan as your hands travel to his broad chest, feeling the muscled and toned body he hardly hides under that skin-tight shirt.

“i get scared easily,” you whisper, “will you be patient with me?”

“i’m not good at expressing my emotions,” he whispers back, “will you be patient with me too?”

“we can be patient together,” you hum, pecking his lips a few times as he chuckles softly.

“good plan,” he nods, “sounds like it should work.”

“oh, thank you,” you wink playfully, pulling away to wrap your arms around his neck and press your forehead to his as you look at him cheekily, “i’m a bit of a genius.”

“that you are,” he nods, smiling in amusement. and he means it. you’re every bit smart and capable as he makes you feel—inadequacy was never something alhaitham made you feel; it was always something you brought onto yourself. you’re used to shifting the blame, you realize. it’s so easy to blame everything and everyone but yourself for the intrusive thoughts in your head.

but they melt away tonight, one feathered kiss at a time, pressed to your jaw delicately by warm, familiar lips you’d know blind.

“your friends are worried about you, you know. kaveh—”

“please do not mention kaveh’s name right now,” he groans, “i’ll hear all about your alarming story of my friends at the tavern, but right now, i only want to hear you say one name.”

“yours?” you wiggle your brows.

“glad to know we’re on the same page,” he confirms, humming as your hands trail under his shirt, feeling the ridges of his built muscles.

“i don’t want anymore casual sex,” you murmur, pouting, “it’s driving me mad.”

“okay,” he nods, shivering as your palms glide over his nipples as you pull his shirt up, exposing his chiseled abdomen for you to admire, “will girlfriend suffice?”

“girlfriend would be great,” you nod, beaming.

“just so you’re aware, i am very concerned with the emotions of my girlfriend, however heavy they might be. i do still think, however, that nurse was on a…unique realm of her own, though,” he adds the last part with a pointed look.

“don’t mention other women when you just asked me to be your girlfriend,” you huff, “don’t forget who stitches you up. don’t get on my bad side.”

“my apologies,” he laughs.

and then you’re back to kissing him, fervently and so desperately, you think this might be your last day on earth, making the most of it before you’ve breathed your last breath. alhaitham groans into your mouth, lets your hands wander all over him as you feel the tautness of his physique.

it’s not the first time you’ve felt him, but it is the first time you can take all the time you want, memorizing him because he’s yours to keep locked away in your memory.

“i love you,” you pant against his mouth, wet, hot kisses interrupting your sweet confession.

“i,” he kisses your cheek, “love,” a kiss to your other cheek, “you,” a kiss to your nose, “too.”

this time, he leans down and kisses you right over your pulse point, right where your racing heart rate is beating erratically. you gasp when he bites and sucks at the flesh, making you whimper as your knees buckle.

“how much?” you ask, pleading to know.

“enough to lose sleep,” he murmurs, “because my dreams were plagued with you. i couldn’t escape you in waking hours or in slumber. that’s how much you torment me. take over my body and mind. is that what you needed to hear?”

he’s a linguist—sometimes you forget that. perhaps he’s not so bad at saying what you need to hear, after all.

“maybe,” you hum, kissing his cheek, nibbling affectionately at the soft flesh, “you like me that much? how cute.”

“i’ll like you a lot more if you stop teasing,” he grunts, pressing his hot, searing erection against your thigh as your thumbs toy away at his nipples. you gasp when you feel him prod at you, feeling the heat even through the fabric that separates you.

neither of you are patient enough to do this properly right now—but you have plenty of time for that. plenty of time to take it slow, explore each other, and map your bodies in ways you never dared to before. scared to cross that stupid, useless imaginary line you drew for no reason at all. you decide from here on out there are no more lines—just endless sand, your footprints next to his as you trek the path of lovers.

you rub at his hardened cock through his pants, making him grunt before he grabs your hands and pins them over your head.

“i said love you,” he says intensely, eyeing you with a carnal hunger you’ve never seen in him before, “but i didn’t say i’d be patient tonight.”

with that, his free hand tugs down both of your pants—his just enough to free his aching cock, and yours enough to expose your leaking cunt as he teases your clit with the blunt tip of his length. you whimper, bucking your hips into him, feeling the beads of precum spread along your heat as he shudders.

“put it in,” you whine, clutching his shirt with tight fists.

“you’re…not ready yet,” he insists, teeth grit as he gives his all to hold himself back from taking you just like you plead.

but you’re stubborn—and alhaitham? he’s too weak to you to fight you when you are, doomed to give into any and every whim of yours.

“don’t care,” you shake your head, “don’t care, don’t care, don’t care. i just want you—please, please, please haitham.”

that’s all it takes for him to crack—slowly, so, so carefully, he nudges past your wet folds, inching his throbbing cock into you as you gasp at the stretch. this isn’t the first time he’s split you open—but it’s never something you get used to. the burning stretch still feels as new as the first time. he groans, low and breathless, as your walls clamp down on him as he slowly but surely intrudes into your cunt.

“so tight,” he murmurs, voice filled with wonder—like this is the first time he’s ever felt you so raw. maybe it is. he’s never felt you as his, as yours. “does that feel good? do you feel me? what you do to me? and you thought i didn’t feel the same? like i didn’t purposely let blades slice my skin just for an excuse to come find you? feel your touch, watch you worry? just for a moment of your attention? surely, you can’t be so blind.”

his words make your head spin, making you throw it back as a soft escapes you when the last bit of his length slips in, filling you full and to the brim as he nudges at the most sensitive spots inside of you. he’s so deep; you think your lungs are filled with him, like every breath you take is filled with him, him, him.

“yes,” you say through a shaky voice, “yes—so good, you feel so good. i want you, haitham. all of you.”

“you have all of me,” he kisses the words into your neck, “that’s not enough? you want more?”

“yes,” you plead, “more!”

he chuckles, smooth and low and so pretty, you feel an ache in your clit from the sound alone. “well, alright then. more it is—i could never dream of denying such a sweet wish.”

finally, he rolls his hips, all but pulling out completely before pressing back into you, dragging along every ridge of you, nudging his thick tip against the spongey, sensitive at the back of your walls. you’re slack against his door, held up by him and him alone as your body betrays you, unable to keep balance as he fucks into you the way he does.

it’s been nine days without you. the way his hips snap so desperately into you, you’d think he’s a man thirsty, gone a year without rain in the deepest, more treacherous ruins in the desert. all you can do is cling to him, repeat the same mantra of haitham, haitham, haitham—more, please haitham.

he knows your body well. so, so well, he knows exactly how to toy with your clit, thumb finding the sensitive nub, enough pressure to make you whine with a jolt, but not enough to let you fall over the edge just yet—not until he allows it.

“i love you,” he punctuates with a roll of his hips, “repeat that. so i know you believe it. so i know you believe me.”

“p-please,” you gasp, tugging at his hair, “i…i need to c-cum—”

“say it,” he demands.

“you love me—oh,” you cut yourself off with a sharp breath, his thumb abusing your clit in faster circles.

“again,” he says firmly.

“you love me,” you whimper, “you…you love me. only me.”

“good,” he nods, groaning as you squeeze around him at the praise, “and don’t forget it. not for a second.”

“l-love you too,” you stutter, voice cracking as he rolls his hips unforgivingly, the friction making your mind fog with pure lust. “love you so, so much.”

that makes him inhale sharply, breath catching in his throat. his head falls to your neck, hot breath fanning against your skin as he moans lowly, hips sloppy and ungraceful in their pace but never failing in precision to angle right into your sweet spot. his thumb rolls circles into your clit, fast and desperate to send you over the edge so he can follow.

and you do—you fall off the edge so fast, so hard, your nails dig blunt, raw crescent moons into his skin as you arch your back off the door and cry his name. luckily for alhaitham, his house is built conveniently enough that he has no close neighbors. no one to hear such filthy sounds right against the door for them to witness just by passing by. no one should be at this hour—but even if they were, you hardly could bring yourself to care.

“c-cumming,” you wail, “cumming, haitham.”

“so beautiful,” he kisses the corner of your mouth, voice strained as he chases his own orgasm, “can’t…can’t believe you’re mine. mine.”

it’s like the realization that you’re his is what pushes him past the edge, his cock twitching with hot, thick ropes of cum into your abused cunt and painting the walls white as soon as he repeats the word mine.

mine, mine, mine—he doesn’t stop repeating it even as he fucks himself into you and works himself through his high. you can feel the wet, messy trail of his cum and your slick leaking down your thighs, so filthy, so lewd, so devastatingly raw.

“yours,” you confirm tiredly, kissing his head as he pants into your neck, muffled moans pressed against your skin as you soothe him while he falls apart against you. “all yours. not going anywhere, i promise. i promise.”

finally, he slumps against you, panting as he tries to catch his breath, sweaty and tired but never unsatisfied.

“if you leave me again,” he quietly admits, “i think i’ll go mad.”

“then i won’t,” you say gently, stroking his sweaty locks.

“i love you,” he reminds you once more, “do you believe me?”

“i do,” you nod, smiling like he’s handed you the sun, “and i love you too. do you believe me?”

“i do,” he hums, wrapping himself around you tighter.

there’s a jiggle of the doorknob behind you, followed by an incoherent, slurred string of curses. alhaitham deflates against you, looking up at you tiredly. you throw your head back and laugh, gleeful, and so, so in love.

“i’m tired of him,” he grumbles.

“let him off easy this once,” you brush back his hair, “it’s thanks to him that i came to see you tonight.”

“then i suppose just this once, i won’t leave him out to freeze,” he relents.

you realize for a moment, alhaitham had never drawn the line in the first place. perhaps it was always just you, making rules in your head when all he ever did was want you from the start. he waited so patiently for you, so you cup his cheeks and pull him closer, giving him one more firm kiss as a reward for all you put him through. he pulls away, dazed as he stares at you with unfocused eyes.

“i’ll give you another like that if you run me a warm bath,” you say cheekily.

“do i get to join this bath,” he raises a brow, eyeing you in amusement as his hands rub soothingly into your hips.

you pretend to think for a moment, mockingly tapping your chin in deep thought before you murmur, “okay, fine. but no funny business.”

“i wouldn’t dream of it—”

“hello?” kaveh’s slurred call interrupts, followed by rough knocking.

“he can freeze,” alhaitham says bitterly.

“don’t you dare!” you gasp, fighting back a laugh as he looks at you miserably.

well…….what was supposed to be maybe 4-5k words at best has…..gotten quite out of hand LOL. 14k words later i present to you my official love letter to alhaitham. anyway i suppose this fic stems from sometimes wondering if i would be compatible with the characters i enjoy. but the question is not whether or not you’re compatible, but whether or not you’re willing to put in the work to make compatibility. and alhaitham would certainly do that. anyway!!! i hope you enjoyed. i’m not sure if many peiple will read this, but if you do, reblogs and comments are really appreciated! giving you all a hug and reminding you that your favs would 100% want you <3

#writing tag #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact smut

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luveline · 2 years

Text

𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary You ask your best friend Eddie to give you your first kiss. Eddie's not really in the habit of saying no to you. [4k]

warnings fem!reader, fluff, first kiss, eddie being totally sweet on his best friend, wrist kisses, sharing a bed, eddie reads to you, you hurt your arm and eddie is overprotective/doting etc, unspoken mutual pining, requested here

𓆩❤︎𓆪

"This is way heavier than you implied," you say, words followed by a startled, pained gasp as you lose your grip on the amp and it almost pops your wrist from the socket trying to keep it up.

"Shit," he says.

Eddie quickly shoves the bigger amp he'd been carrying into the back of the van and makes to help you, his fingers pushing into your stomach as he lugs it up into his arms.

"I'm sorry," he says, and for once you think his apology might be genuine. "I forget how heavy they feel at the end of the night."

Your arms ache. You definitely pulled something you didn't mean to, a sharp pinching pain climbing from your wrist to the crook of your elbow. "Eddie, I think I hurt myself."

He shoves the last amp into the van and doesn't bother closing the door, turning back to you with a concerned grimace. "Yeah? Your wrist?"

He holds his hand out and you extend your arm, wincing. He's tentative, taking your wrist in one hand while the other grasps your upper arm loosely.

"What's it feel like?"

"Like I twisted my ankle, but in my wrist."

He laughs under his breath at your explanation, sweat-damp hair falling into his eyes as he looks you over. "The word you're looking for is 'sprained,'" he informs you jovially.

There's no physical evidence of any injury, not that either of you had expected that, and he has no real reason to be touching you. His thumb smooths over the flat of your wrist.

"How bad is it? Amputation?" you ask, suddenly all drama. You put on a tearful frown and pinch your eyebrows together.

Eddie – who's used to this, who encourages this – nods gravely. "You'll likely never use it again."

"Good heavens, doc. Is there really nothing you can do?" you implore, leaning away from him with your uninjured hand thrown to your forehead.

"Nothing… unless you're willing to undergo the most invasive, painful, gruesome operation any one girl has ever undergone."

"Anything."

"Close your eyes."

You close them, always willing to play these fanciful make-believe's with him. He's charming, it's funny, but you can't say you expect the hot press of his lips against your pulse. If it had been a smacking, playful thing with too much spit you would have laughed about it, but it hadn't been. It's gentle. It's sweet.

He pulls away. You open your eyes to find him lingering, staring at your wrist. A split-second.

"Fixed, right?" he asks smugly.

You take your arm back and curl it towards your chest, twinging with pain. "Definitely. Good as new."

Eddie slams the back doors shut and stretches with a groan, cool night air kissing the shining sliver of abdomen that emerges. He's always sweaty after a gig. You know you should find it gross.

You should.

"Alright, get in the van, sweet thing. It's way past your bedtime."

You laugh and climb into the passenger side, skirt riding up and tights featuring a brand new ladder thanks to some idiot who'd almost broken your leg. You point it out to Eddie as he starts the engine, "Did you see this? S'my last good pair of tights."

He tugs at the ladder and you squeal, pulling your thigh up and over the other so he can't reach it.

"There, they're punk now. Do it on purpose and you're cool," he says sagely.

"Are you staying?" he asks, the question so familiar it doesn't need a proper end.

"Thanks for that."

There's lost minutes of a comfortable silence. You watch the roads change as you draw nearer and nearer to home.

"If you shower first."

He sighs like this is very tortuous of you to ask but agrees. "Yeah, whatever. Always get what you want," he mutters, taking a rough turn that has you gripping your seat. "My bad."

"Learn to drive!" you demand, laughing.

"You learn to drive! Then you wouldn't need a ride every night!"

"Baby," you say earnestly. "Rides to your shows."

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye. You turn to him, perplexed by his uncharacteristic silence. Usually he has something quick to say, an uppity comeback, too witty for his own good and twice as fast.

"What? Wait, don't tell me, you're having a total epiphany right now on why I'm the best friend you've ever had." You nod to yourself, leaning back in your seat with your chin held high. "It's easy. I'm extremely dedicated, I'm sharp as a whip. I'm funny, I'm confident-"

"Humble."

"I'm humble. And obviously very pretty."

He hums to himself. "I kind of hate when you joke about stuff like that."

You blink and drop your chin. "What?" you ask. Weaker than you mean to, your chest feels that heavy weight of an unexpected argument, but Eddie doesn't look angry.

"Because- 'cos I know you don't mean it." He draws his eyes from the road, a familiar stretch of black top leading into Forest Hills, and gives you a well-meaning grimace.

"Sorry, I-"

He clears his throat. "No, don't be. I guess I wished you actually believed that shit. Do you know how many people would come to all of my shows? Listen to the same ten songs, drink the same shitty beer and then help me pack up at the end of the night?" He sounds back to normal. Punchy, a hair's width from incensed. "Nobody but you."

"I'm your best friend," you say firmly. "Of course I'm gonna do all that."

"Right." He laughs and scrapes a hand through his dishevelled hair.

You pull into the parking spot and climb out of the van. You slip like you always do, giggling to yourself as Eddie comes around to roll his eyes at you and shut the door.

"We'll leave it for tonight," he says after he's retrieved Sweetheart, his prized guitar, traipsing up the steps to the front door. "Don't want you straining your poor wrist any further."

You kind of agree. "Or you could do it all by yourself and I'll watch."

"Maybe tomorrow. Are you hungry?"

You ignore his question and waltz straight into his bedroom, throwing yourself down on his rumpled sheets with a harrumph. He puts Sweetheart back into her rightful place and presses a kiss to his fingers. You can't help thinking of the kiss he'd given you, bringing your wrist to your chest where he can't see. It feels the same as it had before, but different. It still aches.

Eddie throws himself down next to you and climbs up over your back, a hand on your shoulder. "Is it still hurting?"

You squeeze it. "Not really."

"Let me see? If it's swollen I could get you some ice. Or, like, a bag of frozen peas. Not that I think we'd have anything that green in the freezer," he corrects himself.

"I don't think they have to be peas to work."

"What if that's where you're wrong? What if we totally need the power of the peas?"

You turn on your back so he can see your wrist. Hovering above you, all his smells and sounds are amplified. The gentle hum as he looks over your arm. The smell of sweat under deodorant, cigarette smoke and something funkier. Then, mixed in with everything, cedar.

When his kind attention on your wrist becomes too much you wrinkle your nose and make a big show of moving away from him. "God, you stink."

"You're fucking horrible," he says, putting your arm down carefully. "I'm gonna shower. Find your pajamas."

"Did you wash them?" you ask as he climbs off of the bed.

"Nope."

You grumble about dirty clothes and search for the pajamas you'd left here last time. Eddie disappears into the cramped bathroom and you can hear every sound he makes, the clipping of bottle caps, even his footsteps moving from the cabinet under the sink and into the shower.

Water sloughs heavily against the glass partition and you try not to listen, try not to think about him and what he's doing and where his hands are.

When he comes in he's in a towel and nothing else. You squeak and pull his covers up past your eyes. "Christ, Eds."

"What? It's my room. I forgot to take clothes in with me."

"You're sullying my eyes."

"Like you've never seen it before."

You scowl. "I've never seen you naked."

"Can you come out? You're being ridiculous."

You hear him go into the bathroom and let the sheets fall from your face, blinking at the sudden brightness. Yellow lamp light bounces of the poster-covered walls, shiny as egg yolk.

He's left the bathroom door open. You peer out into the hallway and then stop yourself, feeling guilty. You don't actually want to see him naked. You're curious.

"Fine," he says as he trudges back in, plaid pants low on his hips. He shrugs into a t-shirt and it sticks to his damp torso, leaving his dark happy trail on show for the second time tonight. "You've never seen me naked. It's not like you've never seen any guy naked."

You feel a tepid mixture of embarrassment and defensiveness. "Who says I've seen a guy naked?"

His eyes are owlishly large, dark lashes not far from kissing his eyebrows as they pinch together. "What?"

You don't repeat yourself.

"You fucked Jerry Mandoza."

"Did not," you say, startled.

"I gave you condoms."

You resist the urge to glare at him. "And you can have them back, if you like. They've been in my nightstand for a year."

"I thought you liked him."

"I did. I just wasn't… ready."

He holds his hands up in surrender. "That's fine, babe. Swear. But, you never told me. Why didn't you tell me?"

He sits heavily at the end of the bed and takes the towel from around his neck, scrubbing ruthlessly at his wet curls.

"That's exactly why your hair gets so frizzy," you chide lightly, climbing on knees to his side. You ease the towel from his hands and are much kinder than he'd been, drying the skin before his hairline and behind his ears and then moving onto his pretty curls.

"He didn't do anything creepy, did he?" Eddie asks. He smells like toothpaste.

You laugh as you wring excess water from his hair as carefully as you can. "No. He was actually really sweet. Said all the right things. He was a gentleman," you drawl dropping the towel back to his shoulders.

"But?"

You sit back and smile at him. "I don't know. He leaned in for a kiss and I just… I got so nervous about it. He closed his eyes and I didn't think, I turned my cheek. He didn't call me for another date. Can't say I blame him."

You're not sure why you never told Eddie that story before. He tilts his head to one side and squints. "Why were you nervous? He was in marching band."

You snort. "It wasn't about him. I guess I was worried my first kiss would be awful."

He rubs the back of his neck with his towel. "First kiss, huh?" he asks.

"Right."

He pulls the towel away, holds it in his lap. You notice his rings are missing, likely still in the bathroom. "I mean, I think you did the right thing. If you weren't ready it can't hurt to wait. And first kisses, they can really suck. Mine, with fucking- fucking Darren Harmon, that sucked. He spit in my mouth so much I think I tasted his dinner from the night before."

You laugh in shock and disgust. "That's gross."

"Tell me about it."

"Why did he spit?"

Eddie brings his legs up onto the bed and his tone is gentle. "Well, when you kiss someone, there's like-" He raises his hands and drops them, lost for the right words. "You know, tongue."

"Is it weird?"

"Sure. Of course it is. But it's really fucking fun, too. Or it can be, if the spit is kept to a minimum." He purses his lips, eyebrows raised. "Actually, spit can be kinda nice if you like the person you're kissing. It's hard to explain."

You spread your legs to fall into a W-shape, hands braced on your knees. "Sorry, I'm not trying to harass you for details."

"You're my best friend. I'll tell you anything you want."

You smile at your legs.

Eddie reaches over to put his hand atop yours. He's leaning toward you, hair falling in his face as he catches your eye. "It's fine. Keep your first kiss for someone you actually like, babe. You'll like it better."

He squeezes your fingers and leaves the room. You can hear him filling a glass of water and turning off all the lights he's left on.

"Did you want anything else?" he asks, offering the glass.

"No, I'm just gonna brush my teeth really quick."

"Take your time."

You take a little bit more than you need to, staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror until your heart is pounding, thoughts coming a thousand a second. Lately, Eddie's touches – his hand around your wrist, his thigh over your thigh, even the thud of his rubber toed converse tapping yours – have become individual events in time. Even when you can't remember the conversation, you can remember his skin on yours. You look at photos from gigs and instead of thinking, Oh, that's the night we made fun of Gareth's new haircut, a truly momentous occasion, you think, That's the night Eddie tugged me by the belt loop. That's when he brushed an eyelash off of my cheek. That's when he leaned in so close I thought he was gonna kiss me.

Even now, the conversation about kisses is fading though you desperately want to remember what he'd said. The sound of his voice slips away. The heat of his fingers curled around yours remains.

You wash your hands twice and don't feel any better.

As if destiny or some higher power feels the need to taunt you, you slide into bed with an amicable handful of inches between your thigh and Eddie's and he totally ignores the gap, sidling up to you with a smile.

"You'll like this," he says, spreading the paperback in his hands open on your thigh. "'A pockmark of matter that can dissolve any light that threatens to eradicate, to nullify, to quantify. An indelible darkness, spreading from one universe to the other, the pristine pages of a tome sullied by a piercing fountain of ink,'" he reads to you, his voice smooth and unhurried. "Guess what she's talking about?"

"Dark matter?"

"What? Keep your astronomy to yourself, dork. She's talking about the Puppet's heart. How sick is that?"

You grin. It is pretty sick.

Eddie's smile grows with yours, though his lips part when he notices something on your face. "You have-" He brings his thumb to your mouth and brushes it roughly, tugging the soft pillow of your upper lip up.

You turn your face. "Jeez. Keep your hands to yourself, Munson."

"Sorry," he says, not sounding very sorry.

"You wanna read some more of your book to me?" you ask. "My eyes are tired."

You lay down flat with one of his pillows smushed under your head and Eddie reads, sitting with his back to the headboard. "'You turn the page and find the ink has eaten into the next page, and the next. The damage is expansive, Dolly says, lifting her chin. But not limitless. Eventually, a page will turn. Eventually, the page beneath remains plain.'"

"I thought Dolly and the Puppet loved each other," you murmur, watching his finger slide up the back of the book.

He gives you a knowing smile. "They did."

"Not anymore?"

"I don't know. He's not the same anymore. He really is evil," Eddie says. "'The Puppet becomes a man of flesh and bone before her, nothing like she had remembered and yet the same. His voice, slick as oil, becomes a malfeasance of sound where before it had been her most treasured melody. And if the tome were sullied to begin with? The Puppet asks. If the darkness subsisted where I only lay my hand?"

"They speak in riddles," you complain.

Eddie shushes you. "'Don't act as though you didn't bring about this war, Dolly says, her voice harsh as tree bark. The Puppet draws ever closer, his wicked grin softened. A puppet once more. I did it for you, he says.'"

You gasp so loudly it makes your throat burn. "He did not!" you whisper-shout.

Eddie chuckles, hand dropping to your shoulder. "He didn't."

"Keep reading!"

"'Dolly refuses to acknowledge his pleading tenor. You did not, she shouts. You created this conflict to become what you wanted to become.

"'Someone you could love. The Puppet places a frozen hand over her cheek. She hits at his chest with the brunt of her palms, hands growing limp as he murmurs. Someone you could kiss.'"

You miss the rest of his reading, eyes slamming shut as if you'd been stuck. You catch small parts. An attempted reunion, a sword tipped in biting silver from the coldest recess of the moon. A short fight, a retreat.

"Are you sleeping?" Eddie whispers.

You swallow. "Almost," you whisper back.

Eddie tosses the paperback onto his desk and pulls the covers over your shoulders and curls toward you. "You should get some rest, sweetheart. It's been a long day."

You nod and turn to him, refusing to open your eyes. "Goodnight," you say, rubbing your cheek against the brushed cotton of his pillowcase.

"Goodnight."

Long minutes of silence. You can feel his warmth beside you like a heating pad under the sheets. You know his hand lies an inch away, if that, his fingers lax. You could stroke the length of his pinky with yours.

As if he knows, as if he can read your mind, a fingertip reaches out to tap yours. "Are you okay?" he asks.

You open one tired eye and lift your face enough to open the other. He looks beautiful. Hair half-dried and flat to his cheek. You reach out to push it from his face slowly. If you were any braver you'd tuck it behind his ear, scratch his scalp lightly with your nails.

"Is it your arm?" he asks.

You drop your hand. "'M just thinking."

"I can't help with that," he jokes, turning his gaze to the ceiling.

You laugh under your breath but even to yourself it sounds odd.

"Do you think you'd ever kiss me?" you utter eventually.

He doesn't answer for a while. Your heart races fast enough that it's all you can hear, like the wind rushing in your ears.

"Is that what you want?"

"I want my first kiss to be a good one."

"And you think it would be, with me?"

"You said to keep it for someone I actually like."

He takes your wrist into a kind hand. Calluses slide over your skin. "I meant someone you have the hots for, babe."

Dangerous territory. Wary to admit anything else, you try to take his rejection with grace. "It's okay if you don't want to. Was just… wondering," you murmur.

He strokes your wrist. "I'll kiss you if you want me to."

"No, I-" You laugh, all nerves and too much blood. "I don't want a pity kiss, Eddie."

"Who said anything about pity?" he says, voice quiet as yours had been and harbouring much less panic.

He pulls your arm like he's encouraging you toward him and you hiss. His grip slackens. "Sorry, I should've-"

"It aches, that's all," you say.

Understanding lightens his eyes. Honey melting into a woody brown. "Shit," he mutters, lowering his head. "I'm sorry." He presses his lips to your wrist in a small kiss. "If it's hurting you should've said."

The words come out hot.

"It…" you drift off as he gives you another kiss. Another.

Close-lipped, Eddie dots pecks down your arm until he reaches the crook of your elbow. He slows and stays. You take the initiative and drop your hand into his hair, stroking behind his ear like you wanted to, like you've wanted to for a while, and shiver as the tip of his nose ghosts against sensitive skin.

He draws away, pulls up, his face much closer than you can remember it ever having been before. You try to breathe normally but the look on his face prompts breathlessness, his eyes steady, bordering impassive. His lips hint a soft bemusement.

He raises his chin. "This okay?"

"This," you repeat, fingers curling into his hair.

Eddie moves in, bringing a hand to your face to guide you to one side. His lips bump into yours and you let your eyes close, overwhelmed by this new feeling. There's a tenderness to how he holds you still, worse when he pulls you in, his kiss hot and soft as water.

He slides his fingertips under your sleeve, palm hot to the breadth of your upper arm. His grip tightens incrementally and you try not to pull his hair in response, your knee hitting his thighs as your body seeks him out.

His lips part against yours and you both suck in a breath before he's kissing again. You try your best to follow his lead, though quickly find yourself a laughing mess as he wraps his arm around your shoulder to pull you close.

"What's funny?" he asks.

You honestly don't know. It's a giddy feeling to be this close, more so when he smiles back and tries to start up another round of sweet kisses, his lips pressing to yours insistently. He caresses the length of your back until you sigh, your open mouth an invitation that he sinks into.

You scrunch the hem of his shirt in your hand when he sucks on your top lip, nonplussed.

Eddie pulls away. Your eyes open in tandem.

You're noticeably out of breath and he isn't unaffected, his chest rising and falling almost as quickly as yours. "So," he says, inhale a struggle though he tries to hide it, "how was that? A good one?"

"I don't know. I don't have anything to compare it to."

"No?" he asks, already leaning in for another.

You weave your hand into his hair and he rubs his hand down your arm until your aching wrist throbs under his fingertips, callused by metal strings and somehow impossibly soft.

"I'm sorry about your arm," he murmurs.

You hope your hum against his lips conveys your forgiveness.

When you've been kissed to the point of dizziness you break it to hide in the space under his chin, breathing in his new smells, his skin, his hair. The remnants of soap; a sharp citrus, mandora awash in something heady.

He pushes his arm under your chest and wraps you up. You hug him back, languid in his hold as he starts to rub your back. Broad, sweeping lines. Your shirt pulls up and he smooths it back down.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," you joke lightly, quickly chased by a big yawn.

"If you're tired, you can sleep," he assures you.

"It was a good kiss."

"Tell me all about it in the morning, okay? Sleep, pretty girl."

You're feeling more and more tired with each passing second. Fatigue hangs heavy and his wandering hands make it worse.

"'Nother kiss in the morning?" you ask, burrowing your face into his shoulder.

He takes a little while to answer, turning his lips down into your temple. "Y'always get what you want, don't you?"

With Eddie? Just about.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! | my masterlist

if you enjoyed, please think about reblogging! I promise its a big help ♡

#eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic

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lyneira · 1 year

Text

♤ nothing more ♤

-> alhaitham having a crush on kaveh's s/o

alhaitham (pining) × reader × kaveh

angst! mainly from Alhaitham's pov, slightly suggestive at a certain part, not really proofread

You often visited Alhaitham's home to see Kaveh. Most times, you'd arrive there earlier than your boyfriend, waiting for him to come. This would mean that you'd frequently end up being alone with Alhaitham.

If it was anyone else, Kaveh wouldn't like this at all. He wouldn't like you hanging around another man all by yourself, especially in said man's own home. (Not because he didn't trust you, but he wouldn't trust the other to keep his hands to himself)

But this was Alhaitham we were talking about. Kaveh didn't think he'd need to be worried as the Scribe was too busy and had more important matters to attend to than to be interested in such things as attraction.

That's what Alhaitham had thought too.

You initially weren't a bother. In fact, you were much more pleasant to be around in comparison to his roomate.

You were polite and would mind your manners inside Alhaitham's home. You never spoke incessantly, but when you did, it was about one of the books that had caught your eye on Alhaitham's shelf. That book was one of his favorites. So apparently, you had good taste as well.

Reading through more of his books as you waited, you would often initiate conversations with him about them, and surprisingly, he wouldn't mind at all. It was rare for Alhaitham to willingly participate in long conversations as it was rare to find people as like-minded as he was. Such as you. You understood him in a way many could not.

He was getting used to your presence. Heck, he desired your presence. And he yearned for it so much with each passing day that he would begin to lay out the books he wanted to recommend and wanted to discuss with you as well as prepare tea for your arrival.

He would wait with great anticipation, his eyes frequently darting from the clock to the front door. There was so much that he wanted to talk about with that beautiful mind of yours, knowing that the sound of your wonderful voice filling his home would make his day better.

Wasn't it funny? That he waited for you just as you would wait for your own lover? What was he doing, getting so excited over you? Wanting to know more of you? Especially when the latter part of the day would always end up pissing him off–

The part where Kaveh finally arrives.

It irritated him each time you would run into Kaveh’s arms once he was at the door, along with a quick peck on his lips.

It irritated him when all you could see was Kaveh, when all your attention was on him and Alhaitham was out of the picture.

It irritated him seeing you two go into the other room and hearing the faint conversations and laughter you'd share. And the worst part of it all: when he would hear your sweet giggles suddenly turn into silence and are soon replaced by soft sighs and breathless panting, trying to keep quiet as if Alhaitham couldn't hear such sounds already.

Again, he had to ask himself, why? Why did all of this boil his blood the way it did? Was it because he had always hated such awful displays of affection? Was it because it disturbed the peace in his household? or was it because…

…he was jealous of Kaveh?

No. Absolutely not, he'd attempt to convince himself.

How could Alhaitham be jealous when he was the one who had a home. He was the one who didn't have extreme debts to pay. He was the one who was wise beyond his years and who didn't get swept up by his emotions. He was even the one who was the Grand Acting Sage of the Akademiya for crying out loud.

But Kaveh was the one who had you.

He had your time, your dear affection, your tender touch, your charming mind, and most of all, he had your love.

Pfft.

Love.

The fact that Alhaitham was getting so worked up over something like that bewildered him.

It was so unlike him.

Alhaitham knew better. Just as he had known better than Kaveh in numerous situations.

In contrast to him, he wasn't one to follow his heart, but rather his mind, something which he deemed reliable, superior, and a lot less fickle than the heart. But you were making him falter. You were getting his heart to speak louder than his mind and it was driving him insane.

Enough of this foolishness.

At some point, Alhaitham considered avoiding you altogether, even when you were in his home. Become distant and cold, that would be the practical thing to do.

However, that would only prove that he did harbor these feelings for you, wouldn't it? That you afflicted him profoundly that he would have to do that.

His pride wouldn't allow it. He'd prove to himself that he had gotten rid of this infatuation. He would prove that he could spend the day speaking with you, taking in your words, your thoughts, your laugh, and your wits, all without his heart beating a little faster. He'd show beyond doubt that he was better than that.

After all, why sacrifice conversing with a great mind as yours over something as tedious as romantic love? It seemed like a terrible waste.

He was resolved to speak to you like a colleague. You would be nothing more.

You are nothing more.

And he was doing fine when simply looking at you. He acknowledged your lovely features, though it wasn't something he'd keel over for.

Yet again, the moment you began to speak, getting into the many possible theories you had and listening so intently, eyes full of genuity and wonder whenever he spoke, he found himself inching closer to you. The further he closed in on you, the further he was becoming intoxicated, drunk on your words, getting high on your scent, and feeling hotter whenever your hand slightly grazed his as you reached to turn the page of the book.

Alhaitham felt like you were ailing him as if you knew of his attempt to resist. As if you knew that deep down, he wanted you two to become something more.

He viewed himself pathetic for being so troubled by you.

It made him recall the first time he met you. You showed up at his door with Kaveh at your side.

"So you're the one Kaveh has been complaining to me about. It's nice to finally meet you, Alhaitham."

You had always joked on how Alhaitham caused Kaveh headache and suffering, but little did he know that you would become the source of his own.

Oh, the irony

a/n: aaaaa idk about this one. alhaitham seems a bit ooc and I may have dragged this on longer than needed tbh. Maybe I just wanted to see him suffer more LOL.

#alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact angst #genshin impact #alhaitham #kaveh #nene writes~♡

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attichaos · 2 years

Text

P.3 Common Herbs A-Z

This is O-Z of some common herbs and their uses

*longer read*

Olive

Fidelity

Marriage

Peace

Money

Assures fidelity in love and is used to attract a marriage partner. Inspires fruitfulness and security in love, family, and business.

Onion

Prosperity

Stability

Endurance

Protection

Burn onion flowers to banish bad habits and negative influences. Cut onions in half and place in the corners of a room to absorb illness, then bury or burn the onion halves in the morning. Sacred to the moon.

Orange

Attracts abundance and happiness through love and marriage.

Concentrate on a yes/no question while eating an orange, then count the seeds -- an even number of seeds means the answer is no, an odd number of seeds means yes. Use the leaves and flowers in love rituals to bring on a marriage proposal. Add an infusion of orange to the bath to increase attractiveness and beauty.

Orange peel

Love

Divination

Luck

Money

House & business blessing

Add to love sachets to help someone make up their mind. Use in sachets & amulets to bring luck to business negotiations.

Orchid

Concentration

Strengthening memory

Focus

Will power

Oregano

Joy

Strength

Vitality

Added energy

Paprika

Use to add energy to any spell or mixture. Throw in someone's yard to cause them problems.

Parsley

Calms and protects the home

Draws prosperity

Financial increase

Luck

Restores a sense of well-being

Use in spells to increase strength & vitality after surgery or illness. Use in amulets or other magickal workings to help yourself out of a rut. Eat to provoke lust and promote fertility. Place on plates of food to guard against contamination. Useful for bath magick to purify and end misfortune. Mix with jasmine and carry in your shoe to make you more attractive to the opposite sex.

Parsnip

Male sex magick

Pear

Lust

Love

Eating pears induces love. Use dried fruit in amulets and sachets for love and lust.

Pea

Money

Love

Peppermint

Use to increase the vibrations of a space or in spells and incense for healing & purification. Place in sleep pillow to ensure peaceful sleep and bring about prophetic dreams. Use to anoint furnishings and household objects. Burn in a new home to clear out sickness and negative energy. Use in magickal workings to provide the push needed to bring change to one's life. Carry with other herbs to boost love & abundance wishes.

Pine

Promotes clean breaks, new beginnings, prosperity, success, strength, grounding, and growth; Also used for cleansing, purification, and repelling negativity. Great for house and business blessing.

Pineapple

Luck

Money

Chastity

Add an infusion of pineapple to the bath to attract luck.

Plum

Healing

Peace

Love

Poppy

Fertility

Prosperity

Love

Abundance

Potato

Image magick

Money

Luck

Healing

Pumpkin

Lunar magick

Radish

Protection

Lust

Rhubarb

Fidelity

Protection

Rose

Divine love

Close friendships

Domestic peace/happiness

Lasting relationships

Great for use in incense, potpourri or bath magick. Place around sprains and dark bruises to help them heal faster.

Rosemary

Carried and used in healing poppets for good health, used in love/lust spells, worn to improve memory, used in dream pillows to prevent nightmares, burned as incense for purification and removing negativity. Wear or carry while reading or completing tasks to improve memory of the material and aid clear thinking (great for students!). Use an infusion of rosemary to wash hands before any healing magick. Use in bath magick for purification. Associated with faeries.

Saffron

Aphrodisiac

Love

Healing

Happiness

Wind raising

Lust

Strength

Burn, wear, or carry for healing and strengthening psychic awareness. Commonly used in love magick, healing spells, and to control the weather. Wash hands with water and saffron or keep saffron sachets in your home to bring happiness.

Sage

Used for self purification and dealing with grief and loss. Carried to improve mental ability and bring wisdom. Used in healing sachets & incense. Promotes spiritual, mental, emotional & physical health and longevity. Removes negative energy. Place near a personal object of a person who is ailing when performing healing spells or rituals. Write a wish on a sage leaf and place it under your pillow for 3 nights -- if you dream of your wish, it will come true; if not, bury the leaf in the ground so that no bad will come to you.

Sea salt

Uses include cleansing crystals, purification, grounding, protection magick and ritual. Used on the altar to represent the Earth. Used with water for asperging, sea spells, consecration and casting circles. Used with garlic and rosemary to banish evil.

Shallot

Add an infusion of shallots to the bath for luck.

St Johns wort

Worn to prevent colds & fevers. Placed under pillow to induce prophetic, romantic dreams. Protects against all forms of baneful witchcraft. Place in a jar in a window or burn in a fireplace to protect from lightning, fire and evil spirits. Used for banishing, protection & blessing. Carry to strengthen courage and convictions or when confronting nasty situations. Burn to banish spirits and demons. Used in divination for the care of crystals. Note: Can be poisonous, use with caution.

Star anise

Burned as incense to increase psychic awareness & abilities. Placed on the altar to increase the power generated. Carried to bring luck.

Strawberry

Attracts success, good fortune, and favorable circumstances. Served as a love food. Leaves are carried for luck. Pregnant women carry a packet of the leaves to ease the pain of pregnancy and childbirth.

Sugar

Love spells

Sex magick

Sunflower

Energy

Protection

Power

Wisdom

Wishes

Sweet pea

Attracts friends and allies; Draws the loyalty and affection of others.

Sweet potato

Image magick

Tangerine

Promotes energy

Strength

Vitality

Awakens joy and dissolves negativity

Tea leaves

Use in talismans for courage or strength. Use as a base for lust drinks. Burn leaves to ensure future riches.

Tea tree

Eliminating confusion

Increasing harmony

Thyme

Attracts loyalty

Affection

The good opinion of others

Wear a sprig to ward off unbearable grief or provide strength and courage when needed. Burn or hang in the home for banishing, purification, and to attract good health for all occupants. Use in cleansing baths prior to working candle magick. Use in dream pillows to ward off nightmares and ensure restful sleep. Add a thyme infusion to the bath regularly to ensure a constant flow of money. Place in a jar and keep in the home or at work for good luck.

Tobacco

Promotes peace

Confidence

Personal strength

Banishing

Mix with salt and burn with a black candle to win a court case.

Tomato

Love spells

Turnip

Ending relationships

Vinegar

Banishing

Binding

Averting evil

Walnut

Access to divine energy

Bringing the blessing of the Gods

Wishes

Watercress

Lunar magick

Sex magick

Witch Hazel

Chastity

Protection

Carry to ease grief over a lost love. Use in a sachet to reduce passions. Use in love spells and spells to ward off evil.

And as always, merry meet <3

Atti <3

(photo - attichaos)

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viviennevermillion · 1 year

Text

Them both having a crush on you

notes: had this idea ever I got to know these two. how they act when they're both in love with you, what happens when you pick them and what happens when you reject them for the other. I hurt myself writing this.

characters included: alhaitham, kaveh

contains: character x gn!reader, pining, rejection, jealousy, wingman!kaveh

warnings: angst, unrequited love

dark content blogs dni

Alhaitham:

You got to know Alhaitham because of the whole "saving Sumeru" fiasco, having worked with the Traveler and their team to overthrow the sages and rescue the Dendro Archon.

While you were always impressed with Alhaitham's intelligence, it was refreshing to see a new side to him in calmer moments, like the celebration feast that Nilou organized. You were surprised to hear him talk about how the people of the Grand Bazaar feel joy from the bottom of their hearts, something the people he knew at the Akademiya were foreign to and how he actually enjoyed the atmosphere of the event because of its special meaning. It wasn't a statement you had expected from him but you would lie if you said that you didn't enjoy when he subverted your expectations. That seemed to be something akin to a hobby for the scribe.

Since your chosen career paths made the two of you cross paths every once in a while, Alhaitham became someone you considered a friend, someone you saw occasionally and enjoyed to converse with. Small talk always turned into debates and complex discussions with this man and Alhaitham was enjoying that a lot.

He was actually the reason you met Kaveh in the first place. When he met you, you were suffering from a particularly bad headache and Alhaitham offered to take you to his house to give you a couple of painkillers, since his home was closer than yours. When you entered the house, Kaveh was kneeling next to the living room table, crafting a little house with matchsticks. Alhaitham didn't make much of the stinging feeling in his chest when you went over to his roommate and introduced yourself with a smile and excitedly commented on how much you liked his work. Alhaitham just simply rolled his eyes. "This is my roommate, Kaveh. He rather does little diy projects than try to get his life together."

He hated to see how well you started to get along with Kaveh. That you met him in the afternoons to hang out with him, sometimes more than you did with him. Alhaitham knew he probably gave off the impression that he didn't like spending time with people that much and was very busy with work and his studies. Still, you spending time with Kaveh prompted him to ask you to hang out with him more.

You thought this was simply him warming up to you more and you were happy to see it.

When you weren't around, Alhaitham couldn't help but sometimes look down on his roommate, telling him that he should probably get some money and a stable life first before he thinks of wooing you. Kaveh, however, always had a comeback. Mocking the way Alhaitham didn't seem to understand romantic gestures and how to express love properly. "I may be in a bit of a financial situation right now, but you're one to talk. Do you think y/n would fall for a guy like you? See, so be quiet." Kaveh, just like you, was blissfully unaware of the fact that Alhaitham also had feelings for you.

Alhaitham usually just ignored Kaveh's comments or answered with an amused smirk. However this time it made him wonder if there was some truth to his words. Whether that was what you wanted: a romantic man who brought you flowers and wrote you poetry and always knew how to express what he felt for you. Someone like Kaveh

Alhaitham, being more bitter than usual, happened to "accidentally" take Kaveh's keys more often when he went out, only for that to backfire horribly. He went to knock at your door to ask you if you wanted to grab dinner with him, only for you to open the door and for him to see Kaveh on your living room couch wrapped in a blanket with a tea you made him. You scolded Alhaitham for taking his keys again and explained that Kaveh didn't have a place to go so you let him stay here. "So, what brings you here?", you asked him with a smile. "I just wanted to give you back your pen. You left it at my house", Alhaitham said with a neutral expression as always and chucked Kaveh's key in the direction of the couch, "here's your key. Hopefully you'll move out soon so you won't need it anymore." With a quick comment on how he was busy and had to go, Alhaitham left again, leaving you and Kaveh wondering whether he was in a bad mood or something.

When you choose him:

It was one of the rare evenings, where, even though you now visited Alhaithams house quite regularly, both of the roommates actually decided to spend some time with you. You had come over to play a couple of rounds of Genius Invokation TCG against Alhaitham. Kaveh sat down next to you, giving you tips and making a few teasing remarks towards Alhaitham when you were close to defeating one of his characters.

Alhaitham didn't let that deter him. His strategy made you outmatched even if Kaveh was helping you. If only the two of you teaming up wouldn't make him sit so close to you and joke around with you so much. Since Kaveh wanted to play the game as well, it didn't take long for Alhaitham to grab his book and go outside to read, not wanting to watch Kaveh shamelessly flirting with you any longer. He shouldn't be bothered with this situation.

During a break, you went outside as well to find Alhaitham sitting on a bench in front of his home and reading his book. You didn't know that he was only staring at the pages, unable to internalize any sentence written there. "Why did you leave?", you asked and sat down next to him. You were willing to give Alhaitham the space he needed for his research, but you thought it'd be more fun to have him around. Plus, you were always looking forward to spending time with the man you had a crush on. "I wanted to read more about this topic", Alhaitham gestured towards the book and avoided your gaze, "besides, you don't need me to woo my roommate." He said that so casually in a matter-of-fact way that at first you genuinely thought Alhaitham just misinterpreted the situation but didn't care for the outcome. So you revealed the truth, knowing he wouldn't hold it against you. That you actually fell for Alhaitham and were looking forward to spending more time with him. "Kaveh knew, I guess that's why I've been talking to him that much more than usually...", you awkwardly put a hand in your neck as Alhaitham gave you a confident smile. "I should have seen that coming", he teased you, acting as if he never had any doubt you'd fall in love with a scholar like him, "well, worry not, I'm quite fond of you as well." You smirked back. "Were you jealous of Kaveh?" "Jealousy is for people with too many shortcomings", Alhaitham remarked dryly.

That's how you ended up leaning against Alhaithams chest, discussing how to proceed with your relationship. He talked as calmly and casually as usual and the only thing that gave him away was the rapid beating of his heart. He had an arm wrapped around you and gave you a sweet forehead kiss.

Alhaitham was not above being petty though. He knew exactly what Kaveh felt for you and he had no problem rubbing your love for him into his roommate's face; kissing you passionately in the kitchen while Kaveh was trying to make himself a milkshake. "Do you guys have to do that in our shared living space?", the blond architect sighed as Alhaitham was trailing kisses down your neck, repeatedly pressing soft pecks to the spot below your ear, smiling against your skin triumphantly considering how you hugged him closer and let out a happy sigh. Kaveh mused that this would be a long and miserable couple of months before he got used to this...

When you choose Kaveh:

Alhaithams heart was aching when he saw you kissing his roommate. He cursed the feeling he was experiencing. It was just love, it shouldn't bother him that much. It'd pass eventually, as all things did.

His face showed nothing of what he was feeling inside as Kaveh leaned his forehead against yours and the two of you were giggling about a joke he had made, you playfully hitting the architect with a pillow before Kaveh ripped the pillow from your hands and pulled you into his lap, kissing you tenderly.

To you and your boyfriend, Alhaitham was just as he always was. Calm, confident, a little distant and not very emotionally expressive. The scribe knew you had no idea of his feelings and neither did Kaveh. Maybe that was exactly the problem. Maybe that was why he lost you.

Maybe he should have shown you more that you meant something to him. He would never become a romantic like Kaveh and Alhaitham had no interest in pretending to be something he wasn't, but he could have told you more what he appreciated about you when the situation called for it. Reached out to you more to show you he liked spending time with you. Showed more interest in your passions. He was so caught up with trying to ignore his feelings for you that he didn't notice how deep he had fallen in love until it was too late. He looked at how you kissed Kaveh, how you stared at him like he was the most precious thing you had ever laid eyes on and Alhaitham wished from the bottom of his heart that this could be him.

But the scribe proceeded just as he always did. Focusing on his work and studies, still interacting with you the same way he would with any of his close aquaintances. To Alhaitham, loving you and seeing you love Kaveh was a rollercoaster of emotions. To you, Alhaitham remained the same through it all. No difference in behavior, no hint of feelings; just the usual. Alhaitham had missed the chance to show you he loved you. And now that didn't matter anymore, so he might as well continue as he always had; casually talking to you and trying to ignore the hurt in his chest when you'd lean over to Kaveh to press a kiss to his cheek.

Kaveh:

Kaveh was still trying to process the whole Sumeru fiasco he was absent from. Not only did the sages get overthrown but Alhaitham had friends? People he brought over to his house? Well, it was mainly you and he occasionally saw his roommate talk to the General Mahamatra, Nilou or Dunyarzad but Kaveh was used to Alhaitham being a loner if his work and research didn't involve social interaction in any way.

What surprised the renowned architect was that you weren't nearly as obnoxious as his roommate. In fact, he grew to like you very quickly with the way you showed interest in his creative projects and were willing to discuss the arts with him. How you looked at the novel he was reading and revealed you had actually read it yourself, promptly discussing the most important plot points with Kaveh while Alhaitham was sitting across from you raising an eyebrow.

Kaveh found your presence very pleasant and it didn't take long for him to ask you to spend some time with him. He wanted to take you for a tour around Sumeru, showing you the buildings he had created, leaving the best for last. He felt a sense of pride when you marveled at the Palace of Alcazarzary and asked him questions about its construction process. Something he hadn't felt in a while considering he was broke and Alhaitham would remind him of his failures constantly, even if mocking him wasn't always his intention.

If only you weren't head over heels for the scribe. Kaveh caught feelings for you so fast, he hardly registered what was happening. The architect was a romantic at heart and was unashamed to admit to himself that he had fallen in love with you. You obviously trusted him and cared for him, otherwise you wouldn't have confided in him about your feelings for Alhaitham. Seriously, unrequited love was hard as is, but did it have to be Alhaitham of all people???

Kaveh didn't understand what you saw in the man. Even after you explained it with a chuckle, finding it amusing how the two of them were always bickering and how Kaveh was obviously shocked that you would fall for Alhaitham.

Still, because Kaveh loved you and because he believed that it was in our nature as humans to help others, he decided to put his feelings aside and support you. It would hurt to see you happy with someone else but it would hurt him even more to see you sad.

That's how Kaveh became your unfortunate wingman. Relaying all the information to you about what made Alhaitham tick and what things he liked. Letting you come over to their shared house so it prompted more interactions between you and the scribe. And watching how happy you looked whenever Alhaitham was giving you attention.

It hurt Kaveh but as long as you could be happy, there was nothing else he wanted to ask for from you. He loved you. Deeply and unconditionally. And the only thing he wanted was for you to live without regrets; fortunate and free to follow the path that made you happy.

Still, there was always a sliver of hope left in him. He knew you probably only let him stay with you out of pity that he was locked out of his house (again) but he loved the way you sat with him, wrapped in a blanket and slightly leaning against him (something he convinced himself was totally platonic), after having brought him a hibiscus tea (his favorite). The two of you were reading a play and Kaveh gave you some subtle hints, projecting onto the main character and explaining his feelings for the love interest. When in reality, those were just Kaveh's feelings for you. He didn't know if you caught onto what he was doing or if it was merely wishful thinking, but his heart skipped a beat when you explained how the love interest must be feeling for the main character, who was oddly similar to Kaveh, as well. It was a beautiful romance. One that Kaveh might never have but always dreamed that he would.

When you choose him:

The past few weeks had been hell for Kaveh. The last time he met you, you parted from him with plans to finally confess to Alhaitham. He never knew if you did it. You had been very busy with work and so had Alhaitham. He knew the two of you had met a couple of times since then, but if Alhaitham was your significant other, he sure didn't give any hints when he came home. Maybe the scribe just wanted him to suffer in uncertainty.

Kaveh was glad when you came over to his roommate's house to spend time and play Genius Invokation TCG with the two of them. When Alhaitham left to go outside and read his book, Kaveh finally asked the question that plagued his mind since he last saw you: "So...how did your confession go?"

Your reaction wasn't what he thought it would be. You chuckled and then awkwardly smiled at him. "Actually...funny thing happened", you began and Kaveh noticed how you were fidgeting with your hands, "....uh....I- well, I actually am not in love with Alhaitham anymore." Kaveh's heart started beating rapidly when you said those words. "Why's that?", he asked curiously, simultaneously trying to recover from the sudden turn of events. "Well, you see...over time I started falling in love with someone else", Kaveh's eyes widened when you took his hands into yours and looked at him with an honest smile, "Kaveh, I'm in love with you..."

Play it cool, was his initial thought to himself as his heart started beating even faster. But he was Kaveh and he could never play anything cool so what he did instead was basically throwing himself at you, hugging you and knocking you over onto the couch behind you while Kaveh buried his face in your neck as he was laying on top of you. It wasn't the first time you two had hugged but you could feel the relief Kaveh was experiencing. "Sorry that I made you wait", you softly spoke and pressed a kiss to his forehead, knowing that Kaveh enjoyed physical affection, "I had to sort out a lot of my thoughts." You could hear quiet sobs coming from the architect as he was tightening his hug and mumbled an incoherent "I love you" against your skin. "Hey, don't cry, okay?", you gently caressed the exposed skin of his back with your fingertips as Kaveh gradually calmed down and looked into your eyes, smiling before leaning his forehead against yours.

You held his hand, squeezing it to signal that you were not going to let go. Kaveh cupped your cheek and asked if he could kiss you, to which you nodded in response. Kaveh's kiss was loving and romantic, just as you expected of him and he pulled you into his lap and leaned his head against your shoulder. "I'm glad you came to your senses", he chuckled.

When you choose Alhaitham:

Seeing you kiss Alhaitham made Kaveh's heart sink in his chest. He knew that this was a possibility. He was prepared for this, or so he thought. And yet it hit him like a raging sumpter beast. He had lost you. And to Alhaitham, of all people.

He was happy for you. Somewhere in his aching, shattered heart he was genuinely happy for you. And he knew he would be able to support you as much as you needed to. One day. When his heart would heal.

But for now, he glared at the scribe who knew full well how Kaveh was feeling and made a point of kissing you passionately and and trailing kisses down your neck when Kaveh entered the kitchen. A quick and easy way to make sure Kaveh would leave the two of you alone for the rest of the evening. Instead, Kaveh took his play and went back to his room, locking the door, sitting on the bed and hugging a pillow as he allowed himself to cry into it. His muffled sobs were drowned out by the soft pillow and the sound of the rain hitting Alhaithams windows.

In this moment, Kaveh hated everything. He hated that he had no place of his own; that everything around him belonged to Alhaitham and now even you had given your heart to the scribe while Kaveh was dependant on the man who had no qualms rubbing his new relationship into Kaveh's face.

The unrealistic heart of a dreamer that Kaveh cursed a lot these days hoped that you would knock on the door and comfort him. Explain that it was all a mistake and that you loved only him. That you would hold onto him and stay with him and hold him until his tears would disappear. But the knock never came.

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