escapede babidi boo

Tags: suggestive?, pure fluff, established relationship, grumpy reader because he has bad wake up habits lol, horny alhaitham of course (I don't believe he'd be NOT horny)

The knock on your door was soft, polite, and still unbearably annoying at 7:03 in the morning.

“YN,” Alhaitham’s voice drifted through the wood—calm, infuriatingly awake, and smug in that way only he managed without trying. “We’ll be late for class.”

You groaned loudly and dragged yourself out of bed long enough to stumble to the door. Hair a mess, pajama top half-buttoned, eyes barely open. You unlocked the door, glared up at him with pure morning hostility—

—and then immediately turned around and collapsed face-first back onto your bed.

“You could at least greet me,” he said as he stepped inside, locking the door behind him like he owned the place. Unfortunately, he do.

“Good morning, my ass,” you muttered into your pillow.

He chuckled. A quiet sound—low, fond, intoxicatingly dangerous.

You didn’t see it, but the moment his eyes landed on you, sprawled lazily across the sheets, pajama collar slipping open just enough to expose the curve of your neck…

Something infallibly scholarly in his brain simply shut off.

“YN,” he said, but it wasn’t a warning—more like a man talking to his last sliver of self-control.

“What,” you snapped, half-asleep, half-annoyed.

He didn’t answer.

The bed dipped beside you and a shadow covers the sunlight shining down on you.

His arm slid under your shirt.

“Alhai— what the hell are—”

Warm lips pressed to the dip of your collarbone.

You jolted, already cursing him while trying to push away the very eager husky of a boyfriend. “It’s— ngh— seven in the DAMN morning—!”

“And?” he murmured against your skin, breath warm, mouth already trailing lazy kisses up the curve of your jaw line. “You look too tempting to ignore.”

“You’re a menace,” you hissed, shivering when he found that sensitive spot right under your ear. “We have school— you per— pervert—”

Your complaint melted into a breathy sound you did not mean to let out.

He smirked against your skin. You could feel it.

“Should I stop?” he whispered, lips brushing your ear before he sucked lightly on the edge of it.

Your whole body betrayed you—tensing, then melting.

He took your wrist gently, pinning your hand into the bedsheets beside your pillow as he stared dead into your eyes with a very obvious glint in his teal eyes. His other hand ghosted under your pajama shirt, fingers tracing your ribs, then your sternum, slow and deliberate.

“YN,” he murmured, nose nuzzling your now-red ear. “Do you want me to stop?”

Oh he knows exactly what he was doing.

You refused to look at him. Your gaze stayed on the wall.

Your voice, embarrassingly soft, slipped out anyway.

“…Just… don’t leave marks in visible places.”

Silence.

Then a sharp inhale—like he had to physically stop himself from reacting too quickly.

His lips curled into a smile you could feel without seeing.

“Understood.”

The next kiss he pressed below your collarbone was deeper. Hungrier. No hesitation now, only reverence and desire tangled together as he pulled you closer, your hand wrapped around him instinctively.

Your ear, already burning, felt like it could combust as he whispered against it:

“You look beautiful like this.”

And his hand slid higher on your chest, fingers tracing your heartbeat, while his mouth returned to the soft skin of your neck—worshipful, teasing, absolutely not innocent for a 7AM school morning.

A/n: this was heavily inspired from some post I saw quite long ago... I think I used the idea directly. I don't really remember anymore. If you know the og post then feel free to tell me.

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Blade and His Existential Crises

The kiss attack started with a single, innocent peck on Blade’s cheek.

You’d just bought a new lipstick—some shade with a ridiculous name like “Crimson Temptation” or “Sinful Berry”—and wanted to test it out. Unfortunately for Blade, he was the nearest available canvas. Unfortunate for him. Very fortunate for you.

A/n: This was written in 15 minutes after listing to "the tortured poets department" because my playlist is on shuffle. So it's heavily inspired. No big warnings but maybe implied depression? Idk. And if you still haven't noticed yet then yes I do enjoy making rational man become irrational. Maybe a bit too much but anyway. Enjoy...

Alhaitham never understood poetry. Not the kind that bled from broken men onto crumpled pages, anyway. But he understood you.

You, with your disheveled blond mop of hair, ink-stained fingers, and tattoos that told stories no one dared to ask about. You, who slept like a golden retriever only when curled against him, despite the nightmares that clawed at your throat most nights. You, who kissed like you were drowning and he was the last breath of air.

The couch was old, threadbare in places, but it held the weight of your love like a shrine. You had collapsed there again, head in his lap, the scent of tobacco and old paper clinging to your skin. Alhaitham’s fingers threaded through your hair absentmindedly, scratching gently at your scalp like he was coaxing peace from chaos.

You stirred, lashes fluttering against the bruised crescents beneath your eyes. "Haitham” you rasped, voice thick with sleep and something deeper. “Kiss me.”

He did. Of course he did.

But it wasn't just a kiss. It was dangerously close to a prayer, a devotion. One hand on his cheek, the other gripping his shirt like you were afraid he’d vanish. You kissed him senseless, kissed him like he was the only thing tethering you to this world. Like he was oxygen. Like he was salvation.

Alhaitham’s mind, usually so precise, so sharp, dulled under the weight of your desperation. He tasted tobacco and longing, felt the tremble in your fingers, the ache in your soul. And when he came back to himself, he was laid out on the couch, breathless, with you hovering above him like some inked-up deity bathed in morning light.

Sunlight spilled through the window, casting golden halos around your messy hair, illuminating the tattoos that danced across your skin like ancient scripture. You looked divine. You looked tempting. You looked like you belonged to him.

You bent down again, lips brushing his like a prayer. “Oh, you don’t know the things you do to me,my love”

Alhaitham could’ve said the same. Could’ve told you how he’d confessed to Tighnari once, voice low and trembling, that if you ever left—if you ever disappeared into the void you sometimes stared into—he wouldn’t survive it. Just like you had said the same thing to Kaveh.

Two men. Two tortured poets. Two halves of a madness that made sense only when tangled together.

If Alhaitham could still conjure up his rationality, he’d complain that you were the one messing him up. That your chaos was a virus in his system. But he’d take that infection over sterile solitude any day.

And if he was still rational, he wouldn’t be drowning in the scent of tobacco and ink and you.

But he's not.

And he like it that way.

He likes the way you can ruin him with just a gaze, a touch, a glint in your eyes.

Tags: poisoned, mentions of blood, Inspired by this

That day Ayato got a box of sakura mochi handed to him by the head of some clan he didn't bother to learn. Said it was a thank you gift, normally he's a creature of distrust. Today since it was handed to everyone or maybe he was exhausted. Whatever the reason might be, he let his guard down and brought it back home. When he arrived at home, he seeks you so that he can gift the box of sakura mochi, knowing how much you'll love it. He was thinking about how you'll smile and your eyes will gleam like a starry night sky when you see your favourite snack.

One moment he was teasing you about how there's a crumb on the side of your lips and brushing it off contemplating whether to lick the crumbs on his fingers just to fluster you and the next you say "Ayato I don't feel so good". Then you cough up a mouthful of blood, staining the pale blue yukata you are wearing with patches of red , the one he had thought fits you and your purity so much now become a haunting sight for Ayato. His world was turned upside down. He rushed to your side just in time to catch you fall into his arms, yelling at whoever outside to go get a physician. His hands, shaking as he gathers you into his embrace gently, as if he can lessen whatever pain you might be in right now. Your breath shallows, almost like even breathing itself is a torment for you. The rest was a blur of events, he didn't even realise that the blood also stained his clothes, your blood. Blossoming like a bright red spider lily. By the time he regains a sliver of composure from the numbness, he's already outside the room you're being treated in, Ayaka and Thoma rushing to his side with concern and worry, anxiously asking what had happened.

Tags: childhood friends, misunderstanding, drifting apart just to reunite?, possible angst, shit so poetic almost chessy , WIP, not proof checked, mind you I was trying to write a fucking haikyuu ff how did I end up with this Idk how this happened and I don't have a name for this yet. But anyway enjoy (also no shade on kaveh, I love my pathetic man. I just needed a reason to suffer (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)). English not my first language. And my sleep schedule is fucked too

Yn was never that passionate about proving theories or contemplating the laws and rules of the world. But there's one thing he's passionate about. And it's Alhaitham. Since their childhood, Alhaitham has been like a mould for yn, everything Alhaitham is passionate about yn is passionate about them too. Because Alhaitham wanted answers that they both become scholars. Because Alhaitham wanted yn and himself to become the greatest researchers teyvat has ever known. Yn followed along, stayed by his side, acting as if he does not desperately want Alhaitham to look at him and smile at him more.

Ikr!! That's why I had to write it. They're so rare TvT!! To answer your question tho, I don't really know where to find them except from finding it with tags on this app(which does not bare that much). I do have a wip but I'm not quite sure when I'll post it yet.

Pairing: Alhaitham x Male Deity Reader

Themes: immortality, hurt/comfort, quiet love, time as a sacrifice, slow realization, dying suicidal reader????

A/n: I don't know what came over me. It's fucking 3 in the morning. I wanna sleep. As usual no spelling checked, no beta we die like men

No one truly understood the weight of eternity—except, perhaps, you.