• Aventurine's Birthday

a love like religion

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: smut MDNI, unprotected sex, gentle dom!jason, size difference, creampie, biting and scratching hard enough to draw blood, all the pet names from Jason (baby, sweetheart, ma, mama, darlin’, honey), lots of aftercare, hints of codependency from jay and reader.

a/n: was daydreaming about jason (as per usual) and got to thinking about how if he were real I would be so down bad for this man it would be borderline unhealthy. something something about your lover becoming your god or whatnot. ngl wrote this with a bit of a “bones and all” vibe in mind of just needing jay in every conceivable way and it uhhhh…spiraled. so here, have some fucking with copious amounts of aftercare and maybe codependency if you squint?

divider credit: cafekitsune

There aren’t many things in life you can be certain of. The ever changing tides of fate have washed you ashore and swept you back into drowning more times than you can count. You’d grown used to it, the ephemeral nature of being alive. You relied on the two things you knew to be unwaveringly true: you are currently living and breathing; and one day you will die, and the living and breathing will be over. You did not anticipate adding any other unchangeable qualities to this list. You now have one that supersedes every other: you love Jason Todd.

You love him more than anything in this universe or the next. You love him like you love air to breathe. He’s your entire world. The sun holds itself in the smiles he reserves only for you, the stars in the gleaming of his seafoam eyes when the moonlight hits them just right, gravity residing in the weight of his hands on your waist.

You love Jason so much you wish you could crawl into his chest, nestle yourself between his ribs and feel the beat of his heart from within. You can’t, of course. But right now, with his broad frame between your thighs and his hips rocking relentlessly into yours? It’s as close as you can get.

It’s intoxicating, the combination of physicality and emotion. Jason feels so good. His cock pushes against every sweet spot you have, delicious toe-curling drags that have you whimpering his name. And he’s so big. It feels like he’s splitting you in half even though he’d spent a good half hour prepping you on his fingers and his tongue. You wouldn’t have it any other way. Feeling your body give way to him, conforming to the shape and weight of him—it’s like nothing else you’ve ever experienced. Nothing compares to Jason.

That’s part of it too. Sure, the feeling of him driving his thick cock into you would be amazing no matter what. But doing this with him while knowing how much he loves you, how much you love him? It’s divine. No heaven could come close to this. You’d take an eternity with him over anything else.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, ma. Feel so fuckin’ good around me,” Jason moans as he trails kisses down your neck.

“Jay–Jason, please,” you whine.

You’re not even sure what you’re begging for. He’s giving you everything you need. His hips rock back and forth at the perfect pace, deep thrusts that you swear you can feel all the way in your throat. Your legs wrap around his waist, ankles crossing over his lower back in an effort to keep him close. He’s buried to the hilt inside you and yet you still want more.

“What is it, baby? Tell me what ya need,” he pants. “I’ll give you anythin’, sweetheart. Anythin’ you want.”

“You.”

The word tumbles from your mouth over and over and over again. He’s reduced you to a crying, needy mess, incapable of thinking about anything other than him. But he knows you all too well and indulges you in your request. He leans in closer, using all his weight to pin you between his warm body and your disheveled blankets.

All you know is Jason. His large frame above you, so big that he blocks the candlelit bedroom from your sight. His voice cooing praises in your ear—you’re so beautiful, takin’ me so well darlin’, I’m all yours sweetheart. His lips kissing and biting adoring bruises into your neck, your collarbone. How heavenly the wet strokes of his cock feel inside your over sensitive cunt. He moves his hand down to rub your clit at the same time that he licks his way into your mouth and you’re done for.

Burning, bright—a white hot supernova that explodes across every nerve ending from your head to your toes. Your legs lock around him as your whole body shudders. Your nails rake across his back and biceps, pretty red lines blooming over his scars. Your teeth sink into his shoulder and you recognize the coppery taste of his blood. The pleasure-pain of your bite draws forth Jason’s orgasm and the warmth that floods you makes you dig your claws in deeper. You mark him as he marks you. A permanent claim, tangible evidence of the love that hums between you. You have one semi-coherent thought before your mind becomes static: you’re as full of him as you can be; mouth, nails, pussy—you’ve got him in every part of you now.

You don’t realize you’re sobbing until you feel his gentle hands wipe the tears from your face.

“You with me, mama?” he whispers, forehead resting against yours.

You hiccup. It takes all your energy to nod weakly in confirmation. You cling to him, not letting him move an inch away from you. His strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you as close to him as physically possible. The movement causes his half hard cock to grind deliciously inside you and you’re gasping into the crook of his neck.

“Stay. Please,” you beg through tears.

Jason just holds you tighter to his chest, and you find safety in the strength of his embrace.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. I’m stayin’ right here with you,” he assures you.

After a few moments, your head clears ever so slightly. You become conscious of touch. Your hands twitch back to life and you discover that Jason has placed them around his neck. Your fingers rest against his pulse, the steady badum badum badum lulling you back to lucidity. You blink open your teary eyes and see concern swirling in the deep sea green of your lover’s.

“Was it too much? I didn’t mean to overwhelm you, baby. I’m sorry,” he whispers, gentle as the winter rain that’s beginning to fall outside.

“Not overwhelmed,” you mumble into his neck. “I just love you.”

Your voice cracks on those four words. You break under the bruising weight of your love for him. You think it could kill you, could bury you six feet under, and you would happily die for it. You would happily die for him. You don’t think you’d want to go out any other way. His hand in yours; it’s the only way you can exist now.

Jason feels it too. He knows you almost as well as you know yourself. He knows how complete your devotion is to him, how he could ask for anything and you would offer it up without hesitation. He knows his is the same. You could demand his heart on a silver platter and he’d go grab his daggers that are displayed neatly on the wall and the fine china back at Wayne Manor. And maybe it’s a lot, maybe you’re both a little too attached. But how could either of you possibly care when loving each other felt this good?

So he handles you delicately. He soothes you when your sobbing returns as he goes to grab a warm washcloth. He wipes your tears as he cleans your combined spend off your thighs. He gently pulls a pair of his boxers over your hips, one of his hoodies over your head. He cradles you in his arms as he carries you to the living room to eat some snacks and continue binging The Great British Baking Show. You’ve come back to reality now. A soft peace settles across your overworked body and mind as you lie intertwined with Jason on the sofa.

“I’m sorry I lost it a little there,” you mumble into his chest, cheeks flushed and more than a tad embarrassed.

“You got nothin’ to apologize for, honey. How many times have I done the same?”

It’s true. Most times it’s Jason that’s the sobbing, fucked out mess in the afterglow. It’s part of why the come down hit you so hard this time. You feel almost guilty, like you should’ve been able to hold yourself together better for him. You swear he can read your mind when he gently grabs your chin and turns your head to face him.

“Hey, none of that feelin’ bad bullshit. We take care of each other. It’s what we do. You’re the one always sayin’ that, right?” he asks, softly nudging his hooked nose against yours.

“Yeah, we take care of each other,” you whisper. “Forever and always?”

Jason absolutely beams at you, and suddenly nothing matters but him and the love you share in this little bit of time and space that’s all yours.

“Forever and always.”

Say You Love Me

Pairing: Xiao x gn!reader

Word Count: 1413

Genre: Angsty drabble, Hurt to comfort

Warnings: Idk it's just angsty & negative at first but it gets better near the end

Posted: 19.O6.2O21

Inspired By: TXT – 0X1 = LOVESONG (yes because many parts of the lyrics remind me of Xiao)

Summary: It's one of those days again, where the violent peaks in the adeptus' karma become too much to bear on his own. In his moment of despair, he finds himself calling out your name.

Note: Xiao's backstory broke my heart and it still didn't heal 💔. I know he's merely fictional, but he deserves the whole entire world and I wish I could end his suffering and make him happy 🤧

You didn't know why, you didn't know how. You were simply enjoying a cup of black tea in your favorite teahouse in Liyue Harbor when a hand of cold steel had taken a hold of your heart, and you knew something was wrong. 

Without even so much as a fragment of hesitation, you left some mora on your table near the window and abandoned your barely-touched tea as you exited the place in a rush of restless concern. There wasn't much rational thinking going on in your mind, mostly because your thoughts were blank and it was merely your instincts that told you it wasn't right.

There was just one coherent word perpetually repeated in your slightly confused yet worried mind; Xiao. 

Your feet had a will of their own as they brought you through the streets of the port city, it was as if your body knew exactly where to go and what to do while your mind didn't quite follow yet. All you had was a feeling, a seed of distress that had settled in your gut stubbornly and directed you to what was hopefully the right place. You were quite certain it had something to do with your beloved adeptus, and the more you grasped onto that thought, the more you started to realize what could possibly be wrong. 

You had to hurry. 

By now you were running, leaving the streets of Liyue Harbor behind and venturing into the wilderness surrounding the city. Maybe it was your imagination that was clouded with worry, but it was as if a magnetic force was pulling you into a certain direction and you could only hope it was correct. You would never forgive yourself if it wasn't, if your feeling guided you to the wrong place, if you wouldn't be able to find and help Xiao, if you –

No, you weren't going to be too late. 

Your lungs were burning at this point, every inch of your body begging you to stop. Not yet, not yet, you pleaded to yourself. You were close, Xiao was near you and you could feel it in your entire being. It started to come together now that you found yourself in the vicinity of the old run-down shrine not too far from the harbor. 

     "Y/N," echoed over the plains weakly, and your heartbeat stilled for a moment as the voice reached your ears, familiar and – regretfully –  evenly familiarly strained. 

You ran, making a dire call on the last remnants of your stamina to push through in order to reach your deeply troubled lover. You had yet to understand why you always seemed to sense Xiao's suffering, but it had often brought you to him when he needed you the most and you were incredibly grateful for the, let's say, sixth sense you had. 

     "Xiao!" you called, ultimately spotting the male hunched over on the ground in the old shrine, barely able to sit up against the forgotten statue of a fallen adeptus. His jade spear was a few feet away from him, covered in dust and shards of stone. 

Your heart wrenched in pain at the sight, and you wasted no time to approach him and crouch down on the rough soil right by his side, barely noticing the debris scraping your knees. His eyes were shut tightly as you took him in your arms, pulling his trembling form against your chest that would hopefully offer him some comfort, even if it was just a little. 

     "Y/N," he breathed, his fingers gripping onto the fabric of your shirt as if you were all he had, as if he was afraid that you would leave again, as if you were his only light left in the darkness that consumed him. 

No words were needed for you to understand what he was going through, just one glance had you knowing all you needed to know. The yaksha was sweating profusely, surges of sharp pain and terror racking his body and a thick black fog crawling around you threateningly, like vultures waiting to devour their dying prey. The karma he was burdened with was a presence lurking perpetually, but on days where it became unbearable, it had him tearing at the seams. 

     "Xiao, I'm here," you whispered softly, running your hand over the tense muscles in his back soothingly. "You're not alone anymore, it's all good now." 

You knew it wasn't, and so did he. His internal battles with his karmic debts were everlasting for as long as he lived, and his immortality rested on his shoulders heavily as a curse. 

But your words also held some truth, something that wasn't just a hollow consolation to offer some empty comfort. He truly wasn't alone anymore, and even though you could do nothing to ease his heavy burden, you could offer him your warmth and love every time his world froze over once more.

     "...'s too much," the adeptus growled, breathing heavily. He was hot and feverish, weak and exhausted. His eyes were dull and tired when he finally looked at you, damp hair sticking to the sheen of sweat on his forehead. 

It wasn't a rare sight to see Xiao like this, but rather a sight you had to witness too often, and you knew you would never get used to it. 

Everyone thought of the vigilant yaksha as cold and emotionless, indifferent and invincible, almost taking his guard over Liyue and its people for granted. Yet here he was, your arms that were around him all that kept him from fully breaking apart in his most vulnerable state. 

     "I know," you agreed quietly, because there was no use in telling him otherwise. These phases were torture in its rawest form, leaving him with a pain that couldn't be described with the words available in the human language. 

     "But remember one thing, Xiao," you continued, brushing some loose strands of hair away from his eyes tenderly. "You are stronger than the darkness, you are better than the darkness. The past is in the past, and the person you have become is a hero loved and appreciated by many. I know you don't believe in your own light, so please let me be your light to guide you through the shadows, okay?"

Words were just words, and you knew that all too well. You couldn't relieve Xiao from his misery, but you still had become his okay when nothing else was okay anymore. He had let you see through his strong facade so quickly, he loved you, needed you, and that alone was enough to grant you the power to save him in his darkest moments. 

His life before you was a mess. Loneliness and sorrow were gnawing at him, the darkness around him weaving a web that seemed impossible to escape from. But he had found his guiding light, his motivation to endure the pain, his reason to fight the demons in his mind and come back even stronger than before. 

It was all you.

     "Y/N," he brought out, slowly letting go of your shirt and draping his arms over your shoulders. He looked at you earnestly, his hazy amber eyes still barely able to focus on you properly. Dried tears had left trails on his cheeks, and you softly reached out to wipe them off. 

He slightly leaned into your touch, his gaze not leaving yours. His body shook when another wave of pain surged through his being, and he furrowed his brows.

     "Y/N, say you love me," he begged hoarsely. 

Oh, he knew you loved him, just like you knew he loved you. But hearing you speak those three words out loud never failed to ignite a spark of hope and warmth in his heart, and not even the strongest peaks in his karmic debt could take that away from him. 

     "Xiao," you started, properly cupping his cheeks this time. "I love you." 

After that you brought him closer, and his crumbling world was whole again when your lips touched his. It was warm, it was safe, and the yaksha finally found it in him to relax. You felt it too, and relief washed over you as you smiled into the kiss. 

You were glad you got to meet the yaksha, on that fateful night many months ago. You were his, he was yours, and together you could conquer the shadows. 

Xiao protected the land of Liyue.

And you protected him. 

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。underneath the stars (looking for a sign)

synopsis. al-haitham thinks waking up beside you feels like a dream—well, until it doesn’t

— word count. 4.1k (how did a drabble get here sobs)

— contents. pining al-haitham, honestly it’s mutual pining lol, gn! reader, implied one night stand, consumption of alcohol (both reader and al-haitham) reader is a matra, al-haitham is acting grand sage, it’s basically the “avoid my crush after i accidentally sleep with him until he corners me” trope lol, confessions, brief angst and then a happily ever after, fluff, not proof read—this was entirely written on tumblr drafts through mobile app. yeah. we raw dogged this bad boy lmaoooo

— notes. if you knew. how many wips i have with him. you would be astounded :,) he’s all that matters anymore

al-haitham wakes up to a bed much softer than his, red flag number one. there’s also a weight on his chest, red flag number two. red flag number three, however, doesn’t make itself apparent until he opens his eyes and sees you.

oh. not good. you’re covered in the sheets, but you’re clearly…topless, and a quick glance at his own torso tells him he’s also not clothed. oh. double not good.

but there’s also a small voice in his head that’s cheering and patting himself on the shoulder—he’s managed to fall into the bed of the very person he’s been quietly pining over for months, what more can a guy possibly ask for?

but unfortunately, his mini celebration in his inner thoughts is disrupted when you open your eyes at the disturbance from his movement—and before he can get even one word in, you shriek. rather loudly, too—it makes him wince at the sound (he’s always had sensitive ears.)

“what are you doing here?” you gasp, “and why haven’t you got a shirt—wait. why haven’t i got a shirt on?”

“well, it seems—”

“you slept with me?” you gasp again, cutting him off as your face twists in disbelief, “while i was drunk?”

“i was drunk too,” he points out, frowning at the accusations. al-haitham is a respectable man, and more importantly, he cares about you too much to take advantage of your inebriated state like that. “it was a two way street.”

that seems to calm you for…approximately two seconds before your face twists in horror again.

“al-haitham,” you wail his name in despair, slumping onto your mattress in defeat, “this is the worst thing we could have done. do you realize that?”

oh. you regret this—the voice in his head suddenly stops cheering. it deflates, in fact.

worst thing. is this really the worst thing? al-haitham thinks you both have always gotten along rather well, and he’s always taken your slightly stuttered words and nervous chuckles as a testament to holding the same attraction he holds for you. but maybe he was too quick to assume you feel the same, and your words now feel like a boulder on his chest. they’re heavy. soul crushingly heavy, in fact—but he keeps the blank expression on his face ever so easily.

“yes, it seems a bit inappropriate for coworkers to have an entanglement,” he agrees after a moment, making you whine at his word choice.

“you don’t have to call it that,” you huff.

then, out of sheer curiosity (and absolutely nothing else), you take a quick peek from the corner of your eyes at his chest. in your defense, his shirt leaves practically little left to the imagination, and when else will you get the opportunity to see his (very impressive) chest? a peek won’t hurt.

you’re thoroughly impressed when your eyes catch his sculpted pecs. his eyes are thoroughly unimpressed when they catch your gaze.

“well, what would you like to do about our predicament?” he asks flatly.

acting uninterested is the hardest part, he realizes. here, you’re within reach for his arm to curl around you, and yet somehow, there still feels like there are miles of space between you in the sheets. it’s a bitter reality, he thinks, one that stings a bit more than he’s ever really imagined.

al-haitham has witnessed lots of rejections in his time. whether it’s at the akademiya where he is the unfortunate witness of a rejected confession, or in novels he reads of unrequited feelings. he however never thought he’d land himself in the same situation—even if he hasn’t technically confessed to you yet. but your reaction definitely feels like one, and he’s smart enough to deduce that if he did confess, you wouldn’t take too kindly to the idea.

sure, it’s a bit unprofessional for the acting grand sage to have a relationship with one of the akademiya’s top matra that he works with rather frequently, but al-haitham is only the temporary grand sage. technically, after this, he will be going back to being the scribe who makes himself scarce on a regular basis. and it’s not very unprofessional for the scribe and a matra to be romantically involved, he’d like to argue. most people meet their significant others through the akademiya in the first place—why should he be any different?

but one glance at your face tells him you’re rather unhappy with this situation. he thinks he can hear a crack where the boulder resides on his chest.

“i think you should leave,” you mumble, chewing nervously on your lip, “and don’t say anything about this to anyone. especially not cyno.”

“noted,” he says blandly. you turn away, letting him have the privacy to rise out of bed and dress—which he does as slowly as possible, just to drag out the feeling of being in your bedroom for just a while longer—before he says clears his throat. “i’ll be seeing you,” he says.

“sure,” you nod awkwardly, “see you at uh…see you at work.”

with that, he walks out of your bedroom, and sees himself out. as soon as you hear the front door shut, you turn and scream into your pillow—the same pillow that happened to be under al-haitham’s head for the entire night, the same pillow that smells like his shampoo.

you think for a moment how you can never wash this pillow case again—and then, when you realize just what you’ve thought, you scream again.

you might just be entirely screwed.

—————

“and where have you been?” kaveh is waiting in the kitchen as soon as al-haitham enters.

great.

kaveh has a talent for making himself available to chatter away into al-haitham’s ear on the most stressful of days. whether it’s to greet him with complaints about having no help with cleaning after a long day of work, or to bang on his office door and demand an explanation for rejected funds as he does paperwork, or to ask where he’s been after he’s been wounded rather harshly by the one person he’s ever felt romantically inclined for, kaveh is always there at the worst possible timing.

leave it to kaveh to sour his mood more.

“i don’t see how it’s any of your business,” al-haitham mutters, grabbing the glass of water on the table and chugging it to help with the slight hangover he nurses—it’s evidently not his best morning in more ways than one.

“hey, that’s my glass,” kaveh scolds, “get your own.”

“it’s actually my glass. from my grandmothers set,” al-haitham corrects his roommate, “and i pay the water bills. so it’s my water too.”

“you—” kaveh shakes with frustration. it would pull a bit of an amused grin on al-hairham’s face if he wasn’t in the worst mood possible. “nevermind,” kaveh huffs, crossing his arms, “where were you—wait, is that a hickey?”

“no,” al-haitham says instantly, pulling his cloak higher to cover his neck—but kaveh beats him to it, reaching over and inspecting his skin. he seems to light up as soon as he realizes it is, in fact, a hickey on al-haitham’s neck.

“it is a hickey,” he grins gleefully, gasping in sheer disbelief that al-haitham seems to have some sort of life outside of work and home, “this can’t be. did you pay someone to get into bed with you—”

“just because some of us can afford such services doesn’t mean we indulge in them,” al-haitham grumbles, which earns an offended gasp from the blonde, “and i’m not obligated to tell you where, or with who for that matter, i was—”

“was it a certain matra?” kaveh grins knowingly, cutting him off.

the mere mention of you must make his face fall—which is new, because al-haitham has always been good at hiding his emotions on his face. but kaveh seems to have realized he’s overstepped, because his smile fades just as quickly as it comes.

“it doesn’t matter,” al-haitham mutters, “it was a mistake.”

“a mistake? but you’ve been pathetically pining for months, anyone with eyes can see—”

“i’ll be going to work now,” al-haitham cuts kaveh off, “make sure you pay this months rent on time.”

with that, he turns, making his way to his room to shower and then be off to the akademiya—where he equal parts hopes he doesn’t see you, and equal parts hopes he runs into you just to catch a glimpse of you again.

—————

you haven’t seen al-haitham is six days—correction: you’ve avoided al-haitham for six days. admittedly, it’s becoming increasingly difficult seeing as he is the acting grand sage, and you do need him to approve of your reports from recent investigations—but then you remember how six days ago, in the darkly lit corner of the street on your way home, you both kissed.

(and yes, it was a drunken mistake—neither you nor al-haitham value public displays of inappropriate affection between coworkers, but that doesn’t erase what happened.)

perhaps it would be easy to laugh it off as an impulsive action the both of you took while being under the influence, but then you both stumbled into your house. and then your bed. and then a kiss turned into more…and then next thing you knew, you’ve been awakened to a very unclothed (but still very handsome) al-haitham next to you in the mattress.

you should be mature and face him—people can sleep with people and not let it mean anything, proper adults would simply brush over this and never look back. but al-haitham is a bit of a difficult scenario.

he’s handsome—painfully so, with those sculpted muscles and those soft strands of hair that fall perfectly over his face. but more than he is easy on the eyes, he’s a charming individual. at least to you—you think the majority of the akademiya would have to disagree.

but al-haitham is kind, he greets you properly, holds doors open for you, and he often notices when you’re tired just by looking at you before giving you extensions on reports. he’s caring, you can tell because he’s helped people more than once, and while he claims it’s for the sake of his own convenience so he can avoid extra trouble, you know that he doesn’t have the heart to turn away from those that need him. more importantly, al-haitham is disciplined—it’s something all matra such as yourself can appreciate.

he seeks out knowledge in the most moral of methods, he never crosses limits or abuses power even when he holds the ability to, and he never takes advantage of the authority he may hold over others.

he’s wonderful, you can’t help but think—and admittedly, his hands also have very attractive veins that make you sweat a little. but that’s not the important part, of course. the important part is how perfect his character is, if you take the moment to understand it. and you like to think you understand it—much more than most at the akademiya.

except romancing the akademiya’s grand sage isn’t the best look for a matra—especially if you want to climb up the ranks soon. you don’t want rumors spread to undermine your hard work…or worse, be accused by the general mahamatra of taking your position as the grand sage’s lover to your advantage for work gains.

cyno is a strict individual—you’d hate to get on his bad side. and just as you think about how awful it would be if he got the wrong impression, he walks right up to you.

with that serious look on his face—why does he always have that serious look on his face?

“grand sage al-haitham requests you in his office,” he says. you don’t detect any suspicion in his voice, and it seems like a perfectly normal statement, but that’s the thing about cyno. he’s too good at not letting his movements be read, too good at cornering caged animals before dragging them by the ankles out in the open, exposed and vulnerable.

you gulp. “did he say why?” you ask, “i’m a bit busy.”

“no,” cyno shakes his head—and then he looks at you oddly, “you don’t seem busy.”

“well….this report won’t write itself,” you chuckle nervously, which only makes his brows furrow in confusion.

“wasn’t that due two days ago?”

fuck.

“yes….but al-haitham gave me an extension.”

“he seems to give you a lot of those,” cyno points out, unimpressed.

well, that’s great, you think. surely, there is no other matra as good at losing composure and making things more obvious for themselves than you.

“i haven’t been feeling well,” you say quickly—which isn’t the worst excuse, seeing as you’ve hardly shown your face at the akademiya for the last few days.

cyno seems to buy it too, because he nods in understanding before giving you a concerned look. “you shouldn’t push yourself, you know,” he lectures, “being sick snot fun.” you blink, and he looks thoroughly amused with himself. “get it? because when you’re sick, you might have a runny nose? snot? and—”

“right,” you nod, “i’ll be seeing the grand sage now. i wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”

at least you know cyno has not made any….inappropriate assumptions if he’s making jokes, as painful as they might be. you’re not sure if you’d rather face al-haitham or continue to listen to the general mahamatra’s interesting sense of humor, but the closer you get to the grand sage’s office, the more you want to turn back and find cyno again.

but you’re an adult, and adults do adult things sometimes, and sometimes they’re not the most ideal, but the only way to handle such situations is the adult way—to be mature and not let things get in the way of being professional. easy enough.

at least, you hope.

—————

“you called for me, grand sage?”

ouch. al-haitham has now been reduced to grand sage, not just al-haitham. he looks at you for a moment, and he tries—really, he does—to seem unbothered, but his brows crinkle before he can stop them.

“i did, yes,” he says, looking at you.

you look lovely—which, you always do, even when you’re nervous. he can tell you are because you have that habit of chewing on your lip when you’re nervous, and he hates that he makes you anxious enough to do that right now.

al-haitham has always hated the gap between him and everyone else—not because he enjoys being close to others, but because it’s burdensome to always seem like a pretentious asshole. being interpreted as one over the years has left him quite numb to what other people think….but that’s not the case with you, unfortunately. he wonders if you’ve ever thought he was an asshole, or if you’ve ever felt that he acts like he’s better than you are. he hopes you’ve never talked to him and thought he’s condescending like kaveh insists he is—he hopes you find value in his honesty and find him insightful.

he thinks you might have at one point, if the way carrying conversation with you is so easy is of any proof. it feels natural, talking to you. your voice is smooth, especially when it reads over mission reports to him in his office. your laugh is even smoother, though—it’s soft, and honeyed, it sounds like something he’s been missing his whole life.

everything about you feels like something he’s been missing his whole life, like he was born to be with you by his side, and he’s been empty without you all along.

you clear your throat, handing him papers as you pull him from his thoughts and say, “here is the report for that last investigation,” you say quietly, “i apologize for the untimeliness. it won’t happen again—”

“that’s not why i called you,” he cuts you off.

al-haitham is a straightforward man. he’s watched many confessions, and he’s read about many confessions, and he’s even thought about how his own confessions might go should he ever find someone he finds interest in.

but this isn’t interest. al-haitham is not interested in you—he needs you. to call this a confession might be incorrect, he thinks for a moment, because this almost feels like he’s about to plead for you to give him a chance.

“oh,” your voice is small.

you think you have an inkling of an idea of what he’ll bring up, and you contemplate running out of his office and begging cyno to tell you a few more of his jokes….or a few dozen….maybe a few hundred to be safe.

“we should talk about that night—”

“well, there’s not much to talk about,” you say simply, “you and i are consenting adults, and we happened to be heavily under the influence, which caused a lapse in judgement. it’s a bit unprofessional, sure, but as long as neither of us say anything, and as long as we manage to keep a professional atmosphere between the two of us, there shouldn’t be any—”

he cuts off your (rehearsed in the bathroom mirror many times) speech as he clears his throat. “i….” the words are caught in his throat.

for a lifetime of straightforward honesty and blunt words, it seems like now of all times he can’t seem to speak.

“you…?” you motion for him to continue.

“i enjoyed it.”

you sputter. his eyes widen as he stumbles over his words when he realizes what he’s really said.

“grand sage,” you gasp, “i think that’s hardly appropriate for—”

“n-no, i meant i enjoyed you,” he says quickly, making you furrow your brows.

“and what does that mean? because—”

“i enjoyed being with you,” he croaks. it’s a good thing kaveh isn’t here to witness this, because as a self proclaimed expert at love (which al-haitham would have to disagree), kaveh would have an absolute ball watching this. “i don’t….i would prefer if we didn’t pretend nothing happened,” he mumbles, “if you feel the same, that is.”

everything about al-haitham is hopeful. from the way his eyes watch your every movement as they stare at you, to the way he clutches the pen in his hand tightly in anticipation of your response, he’s hopeful. you can tell.

you can tell he’s hopeful you’ll say yes, that he’s hopeful you’ll say you feel the same way as him, that he’s hopeful he’ll see you again in a setting that’s not just for work and mission reports and investigation details.

he’s hopeful you’ll say yes to his pleading eyes and fill that empty spot beside him that’s been empty for far too long.

and it feels like swallowing lead when you sigh heavily and watch the hope crumble.

“al-haitham,” you mumble, “this wouldn’t be very wise, you know?”

“and why’s that?” the hurt in his face is almost tangible.

he’s not foreign to rejections, he’s witnessed them his whole life. he watched that haravatat scholar that declined the amurta one outside of class that one year. he read about that main character that found self respect and declined the toxic love interest in that novel he read last summer. he’s declined his own fair share of confessions by random scholars that stare a bit too long at his chest and arms for his liking.

but for some reason, he never imagined it to feel like this. like being with your for one second longer might just burn his skin, but being away from you might leave him cold and numb. al-haitham thinks that if you walked out that door, you might just take every bit of warmth he’s ever known from him—but sitting in front of you, in front of your sorrowed expression and sympathetic eyes….it might be too much heat for him to handle.

“well, you’re the grand sage, and i’m a matra—”

“acting grand sage,” he corrects, “it’s temporary. i’ll be back to being the akademiya’s scribe in a short bit.”

“but people talk,” you insist, “and i’ve worked hard to be a respectable matra, and i wouldn’t want anyone to think i’ve slept my way to the top. plus, the general mahamatra is technically my boss, and he’s very strict—”

“the general mahamatra and i drink at taverns together quite often,” he says pointedly, “he’s well aware of how i feel.”

“you told cyno?” you gasp, shooting him a sharp look, “i asked you specifically not to—”

“he’s known of my feelings before that night,” he assures, “evidently i’m not very subtle.”

“well,” you hum, biting back a smile, “no, you aren’t.”

he raises a brow, tilting his head in confusion. “you’ve known?”

“al-haitham,” you chuckle, eyeing him fondly. something about the way your smile is so bright makes him clutch his pen tighter. “you aren’t the most social, you know. but you always have something to say to me.”

“that doesn’t always mean anything,” he mumbles, blush rising to the tips of his ears.

he’s endearing this way, you decide—when he’s flustered and almost pouting and flushed a bright shade of pink. you think for a second that maybe, if you kiss him for a bit in the comforts of his office, no one will ever have to know.

“but it does, doesn’t it?” you tease.

“and if you’ve indulged it all this time, am i safe to assume it means something to you too?” he asks, raising a brow.

you should say no. sleeping with the grand sage and kissing him in his office and maybe even going on dates and possibly holding hands is hardly a good look—but the scribe….well, maybe the scribe is a different story.

“ask me again when you’re the akademiya’s scribe,” you say, biting back a smile, “perhaps my answer will be different then.”

“i see,” he nods, biting back a smile of his own, “i suppose the grand sage isn’t everyone’s type, huh?”

“no,” you chuckle, “i suppose not. but the scribe….well, he’s rather charming.” you walk up to him, lean down and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth as you mumble, “i don’t mind waiting for the scribe.”

“well, lucky for you, you won’t have to wait too long,” he hums.

he watches you leave his office—and then he decides that when he clocks out at five pm sharp later, he’ll go straight home, tell kaveh that he is, in fact capable in the field of romance, and demand this month’s rent.

—————

BONUS:

“haitham, we’re out of eggs,” you pout, poking your head out of the fridge, “will you bring some on the way home today?”

“we would have eggs if kaveh didn’t use all of mine,” al-haitham grumbles, glaring at the blonde who gasps in offense. 

“and you help yourself to my beer, don’t you? i deserve a few eggs,” kaveh huffs. 

“well, make sure you pay this month’s rent on time. we’re going to buy some more furniture for our room.”

this time, kaveh turns to you in disbelief—you find it amusing how he seems to still find it improbable that anyone would like to spend longer than five minutes with al-haitham, let alone share a bedroom.

“are you really sure you want to do this? what could you possibly see in him? he’s the most aggravating individual i’ve ever had the pleasure of talking to,” kaveh eyes you in concern as you walk over and press a soft kiss to al-haitham’s forehead, earning himself an unimpressed glare from the scribe and making you giggle. 

“he is a bit aggravating,” you agree with a teasing glint, pinching al-haitham’s cheek as he scoffs, “but i think he’s just nice to me because i sleep with him.”

“that’s gross,” kaveh wrinkles his nose, “you had better not be doing anything i can hear from my room—that would be traumatic. although, it must be more traumatic for you,” he says with sympathy.

“if you don’t like it, you can simply move out,” al-haitham, shrugs, wrapping an arm around your waist. as much as you love your boyfriend—and you love him quite a bit, you can’t help but mourn the fact that constant bickering will now become a staple in your daily routine. 

“are you threatening me?” kaveh gasps before he turns to you with his finger pointing to al-haitham, “do you see? this is your future, i hope you know that. he’s much more unpleasant to live with, i’m warning you in advance—don’t say i didn’t try.”

“well, i’m sure he’ll be on his best behavior for me,” you grin, eyeing al-haitham playfully as your fingers weave into his hair, “otherwise, i’ll have to come sleep in your room when i’m mad at him.”

you think, for the first time ever, kaveh and al-haitham seem to agree on something as they both share a look of dread at your words.

pov: you write 3.8k words of build up for a plot just so you can write the bonus scene 😭

no bc literally i meant to write this as a drabble just so i could write the bonus scene bc i thought of it and giggled but then the plot just kept going and now we’re at 4.1k words like w h a t

So, uh I sorta try to do a edit(?) İts my first time so sorry if you didn’t like it? İs anybody have any idea where i can do good edits?

... ♥

been thinking about them a lot lately

Kat

SFW alphabet w/ Aventurine plz? 👀

I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS!!! Thank you for the request and I hope you liked it,

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

As much as he’s clueless about this, I think the most familiar form of affection is by spending you his credits! No matter how much he had, he worked hard to get his way to his position no. So I think he’ll spend unnecessarily huge amounts of credit to show that he really is smitten with you.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

I think he never had a real friend before, so, yeah. At first, of course he would think that you’re there just to strike a deal with him. You played along with him and it turns out that you genuinely wanted to befriend him?! He’ll be very happy about it.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

The moment he knew that he could cuddle you any time possible (if you allow it) you could tell that he’s ecstatic. His favorite position will be him and you facing each other while he buried his face on your neck. This way he could feel your heart beating, your breathing close to him and it might help him to feel human. 

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I’m not sure about this since this man is all about risk and adrenaline, so it’ll take a very long while for him to actually think about settling down. I like to think that he could cook tho! His early years in the IPC forced him to make the simplest, cheapest meal he could afford (he had to get creative!)

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

If he isn’t fond of the current relationship, I think he’ll treat it like a losing bet and before you know it, he has blocked you since there is no further need to dwell on a failed business. 

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

To be honest, referring to the previous HC, he’s probably scared about this. Not because he feels like he wouldn’t be able to hold on his own words, rather that if you were to leave him the moment he already had these thoughts, it’s so over for him. As much as he likes risk, he still doesn’t want to be on the losing end :(

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Man plays poker for a living and does magic coin tricks with his hands so I’d like to say that he’s gentle with his touch. He will never raise his hands on you, but emotionally? He’d be as gentle as he can with you since he’s not familiar with displaying his true feelings. 

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He carves physical touches. He'll do it any time possible, I can even see him surprising you with a hug from behind! He surely is touchy.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

A VERY, VERY LONG WHILE. The concept of love is highly foreign to him, so the moment he has spent enough time for you to learn it, it’ll be a very genuine one :(

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He cannot describe the feeling but he feels really icky when he sees you spending some joyous time with someone else. He’ll suddenly transfer some credit to your personal account multiple times to get your phone buzzing and you’ll instantly remind yourself of him or if you’re close by, he’ll simply tell you that he needs your attention.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His favorite part to kiss you would be anywhere as he most likely wanted you to know that he likes all of you! But he personally likes to be kissed on the cheeks since it’ll make himself all flustered, his cheeks heathen up by the mere contact of your lips. He likes the tingling sensation!

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

I MIGHT BE DELUSIONAL ON THIS ONE!! (as if I weren't a delusional lad on a daily basis) BUT!!! Spending the rest of his life treated like trash and having his own parents left him since his early ages had him a soft spot towards struggling children and he’ll help them with what he knows best (giving them credits) :(( but I think he’ll hate the brat type or overly spoiled children so he’d rather not be around one.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He’s a very busy man, most of the time he came back late and left early for work, but ever since he met you, he’ll definitely use his power as a higher up so he could come a little later to thoroughly enjoy the breakfast you’ve made specially for him <3

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nighttime will probably be his favorite part of the day, since he gets to come home to you and you’d be there with him through his routines even at bed. You’ll most likely fall asleep before him, and he took his time admiring your peaceful sleeping face.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He doesn’t like feeling vulnerable so it’ll take him a long while to reveal himself, take your time with him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Man had a poker face as his default expression. He is indeed very patient, he’s used to being fueled to anger by other people so he’s used to it actually. It might be impossible for you to actually anger him, but if it’s about you? Someone messes with you to the point you cry or come ranting at him? It’ll apply otherwise <3

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He cherishes every little detail about you!!! He most likely remembers your preferred taste in meals, or how you like to wear your clothes. If he’s out without you and he sees something that you might like, he’ll most definitely take it on a whim!

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

I don’t think he can decide :(( Every minute spent by him is worth every credit possible, and it applies to you. He likes every single second spent with you, even if it’s just you rambling to him about your day, the way you smile when he can finally meet you after his long stressful day of work, you mentioned it.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

There are numerous people that are probably seeking his downfall, which resulted in him staying alert most of the time. Rather than how he likes to be protected, it is most likely him who is trying his best to protect you in any way possible.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

THIS IS THE 1 (ONE) THING HE’S GREAT AT AND HE WON’T MISS ANY CHANCE TO SHOW HOW MUCH YOU TRULY MEANT TO HIM!! He’ll put a huge amount of effort into scheduling your perfect dates, or any customized gifts you’d like, heck he won’t mind if you clearly ask him for things, like “Aventurine, can I have a new set of paint for my birthday?” and he’ll probably buy it for you the next day while he used all of his capability to make formulate you the best thing he had in mind for your real birthday present <3 (with this being said, he would probably had a heart attack if you said that the best gift for you is his presence all along)

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Gambling is one of the bad things that he’s addicted to, but since he actually put thoughts on every one of it, you didn’t really mind. Man had calculated every single detail about his plans and gambling is just one of the fun ways to put it in. Your real concern would be him with alcohol :( he could drink an inhumane amount of them if one of his perfectly tailored plans didn’t go well only for him to pass out and wake up with a horrible hangover by morning. One time you cried at how he fainted in the living room and you couldn't bring him up to a warmer place so you brought your blanket just slept with him on the floor and it broke him. If so, he’ll probably try to not do it again.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He literally mentions and points out how his clothes are very expensive, so it’s safe to say that he likes being seen at his best!

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

After all that time he had spent with you? It’ll ruin him like BAD bad if you were to leave him, so yes, he’ll be very lost :( 

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

I like to think that he’s actually very silly and had random improper or stupid questions in mind, like, “Have you ever wondered if crabs think that fishes could fly?” but he never actually say it to anyone until he was comfortable with you and he get to say every silly things he had in mind <3

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

I think he wouldn’t like to be pushed around :( he’ll be very uncomfortable if anyone pushes him to spill how he’s actually feeling or what’s inside his mind, it’ll mess him up in the head (but he’s so good at pretending that it didn’t shake him and he’ll end up lying to shoo that person away) ((man would probably hate therapy)). 

Z = Zzz (What are their sleep habits?)

Knowing his past and all makes me think that he’d be a light sleeper. At times, he’d wake up because of nightmares and such, but he never really talks about it with you :(( You can lightly tap his shoulder when he’s asleep and he’ll probably be awake instantly. He’s in constant alert mode.

There are a little more amount of request I had left so I think I'll open it again if I had finished it all! Thank you for reading <3 (I hope I am NOT being TOO delusional)

Thank you 🥺💕

Hello! Can i have a soft one shot about Mammon and Lucifer? We already know that Luci has a soft spot for Mammon so i like their relationship so much. Maybe a angst fluff? Some Mammon crying, Luci comforting him? I would really appreciate it 🥺👉👈

“You’re not an idiot, Mammon.” - Soft Mammon x Lucifer content

(I hope this is somewhat what you had in mind - I got really sad writing about upset Mammon!)

~

Lucifer had a stern look on his face as he read his paper. He sat poised at the end of the dinner table while Mammon was slumped at the other end.

Raising an eyebrow, Lucifer would every so often peer over his paper to steal a glance at Mammon. It wasn’t usual for him to lurk around once dinner was over, usually he’d be off somewhere annoying someone. The eldest brother tried to focus on the words in front of him but his mind kept flickering back to his brother. Hearing the white haired demon sigh heavily, he discarded his newspaper to one side.

“Mammon?” Lucifer asked quietly “Is something bothering you?”

His voice startled Mammon, he sat up quickly, adjusting his glasses on the end of his nose. “No?! Nothing bothers the Great Mammon!” He exclaimed unconvincingly.

All Lucifer had to do was shoot him a look before he admitted the truth “Alright...” he sighed. “It’s RAD. There’s this paper that’s due in soon, I tried to ask the others for help because I haven’t got clue what to do...all they did was call me stupid. I don’t get it! I was tryin’ to get help and they laughed at me.” He spoke begrudgingly, slumping back down in his seat. Lucifer was silent for a minute. His mind suddenly flickered back to all of the times he’d ridiculed Mammon as he looked at how upset his brother was. “I don’t get why everyone’s gotta be so mean to me!” He exclaimed before sniffling.

Lucifer’s face sunk when he saw Mammon’s eyes become glassy, a single tear trickling down his cheek. His mind was clouded with guilt as he watched his brother break down in front of him. Hesitating, he stood up from his seat, walking over to Mammon. He placed one of his gloved hands on his shoulder. “Would you like me to help you? I’m sure I can give you some guidance.”

Mammon sniffed, quickly rubbing his damp cheeks before looking up at his brother. “You sure ya won’t call be an idiot too?”

Lucifer took a seat next to him. “You’re not an idiot, Mammon. You do stupid things sometimes but that doesn’t make you an idiot.” He spoke reassuringly. “Here, take this.” He said handing him a tissue from his pocket. “Clean yourself up and in five minutes stop by my office - we’ll look over that paper together.”

“Thank you.” Mammon whispered.

For a moment Lucifer smiled admirably at his brother. Admittedly it was soon replaced with his usual stem demeanour, but for a moment, just a moment, Mammon saw that rare soft side of Lucifer.

Learning to Love Slowly

Jason Todd x Reader All Chapters AO3

57-Mr. Wayne and His Sons

You and Mr. Wayne looked up from your respective books at the sound of yelling, sharing a glance before looking at the library doors.

“You son of a bitch! You tell her, and I’ll kill you.” That was Jason’s voice clear as day, you’d know it anywhere, and it was coming closer. Within seconds, the doors to the library burst open and Dick strode through ready to say something. Before he could even get a breath of air out Jason was on Dick from behind tackling him to the ground. 

“I told you to shut up,” Jason said, putting Dick in a not-too-tight choke hold. 

He reached up to pull his brother’s hair in response, yelling out, “I have to show you what Jason has on his phone—!” Suddenly, Dick was calling his younger brother every name in the book as he had taken a hefty bite of his arm. 

Book forgotten, you propped yourself against the arm of the couch, looking down at the two scuffling around with a grin on your face. Bruce was already getting up with a loud, tired groan that would be heard from any worn-out father to head over to his sons. They didn’t stop their fight upon his approach, still yelling incoherently while pinching and pulling at each other. 

“You’re adopted,” Dick yelled. 

Jason scoffed, “We’re both adopted, you dickhead!”

Bruce bent down and pinched their ears, halting any motion from them. Giggling, you watched as Mr. Wayne pulled them up to their feet, scolding them like Alfred would. Both declared the other of starting it. 

“He’s—he’s mean, Dad,” Dick declared, pointing at Jason. 

Jay scoffed, “What are you, asshole, five?” 

Bruce let them go, eyes narrowing, “What’s this about—”

“Jason has a—” Before he could answer, Dick was having a hand smacked against his mouth. 

“Dad,” Jason said, looking at Bruce. The way his face turned to surprise for a split second, he hadn’t meant for that to come out. “He’s trying to share my personal shit.” 

Bruce hushed Dick before he could say anything in his defense, reprimanding him for invading his brother’s personal space and trying to embarrass him in front of you. His eldest was already defending his actions like he was nine again, pleading with him that it wasn’t that serious of a secret. 

“Didn’t think invading person space really applied to you since you have tracking devices on nearly all of us,” Dick snapped.

You quietly asked, “Does that include me?”

“Probably.” 

“No!”

“You better not be tracking my fucking girlfriend.”

Bruce was quick to explain that tracking his children during patrol was very different and that he would never go as far as to track them outside of the mask. Not anymore, anyway. Jason rebuffed the comment by saying that was far from the paranoid father he knew. 

You interrupted before it could turn into an even bigger fight, “We’re getting off-topic, what is it that you don’t want to be shared with me?” 

Jason sheepishly moved from Bruce over to you, taking out his phone to show you while he whispered in your ear. Your face turned red as you looked away, flustered. 

“Yeah, we’ll talk about that later.” You said. 

Bruce admired how the two of you looked like two kids so in love, while Dick groaned. You excused yourself and Jason so you could take about exactly how this came about.

Once the library doors closed, the scolding that Bruce gave Dick could be heard from down the hall. Still, it was nothing compared to Alfred's. 

childe’s ❝night terrors❞

❏ plot: you get an eerie feeling he’s been looking forward to this. humor, fluff, minor angst, fake dating au. based off this prompt.

❐ pairing: childe | tartaglia x gender neutral!reader.

❐ words: 2.9k.

❏ warnings: none!

It’s been a long day. You’ve followed Childe everywhere: from the mountaintops of Snezhnaya to the hillsides of Liyue and finally, finally, you’re getting some rest for the night.

“There’s only one bed.” But there’s only one bed.

Childe looks completely unbothered despite the look of exhaustion in his smile. He tosses his bag on the foot of the lone bed, puts his hands on his hips, and turns to you with a gleam, “We are a couple.”

“No, we’re not,” you’d had to say that multiple times today, more than you ever expected you’d need to, “now hand me a Mora so we can flip for who gets it.”

Okumaya devam et