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vivalabunbun · 6 months

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Into the Sky of Artificial Stars

Summary: Could a chest that lacks a heartbeat still learn how it would feel? Could the whir of a motor be enough of a substitute?

Word Count: 25k (I will not explain myself)

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Slow burn (oh my), Slow fic (oh boy), SMUT(r18+), NSFW, Researcher!Reader, insomniac!Reader, Android!Alhaitham, Workaholic!Reader, soft!Alhaitham, Modern AU, Android AU, human x android dynamics, Heavy Angst, Fluff, Heavy adult themes, academic trauma, toxic family pressure, toxic academia themes, struggles of poverty and academic inequality, TW: Exploration of grief, death, and guilt, TW: Survivor's guilt and tragedy, exploration of humanity and morality, slight mentions of violence, service top!Alhaitham, test subject to lovers? slightly possessive!Alhaitham? body worship, touch starvation? cunnilingus, he falls hard like a fool, but what is there to catch a fool who tried to reach for an unobtainable star?

Authors Note: This has been in the drafts for a very long time. My first foray into sci-fi kinda? I did my best with jargon and everything, so please forgive any mistakes I've made in regard to the technical stuff. An exploration into an artificial star. Enjoy

Are you just your conscience?

All the collective thoughts, desires, and ideals that congregate in your mind and influence your every action. Do your thoughts define you?

Are those cognitive functions, formed through a mix of instinct, teachings, and life experiences, what differentiates a man from a featherless biped?

If so, then are algorithms, simulations, and data sets interchangeable with what creates cognitive functions? Theoretically, it gives a machine the ability to develop a conscience. It gives a machine the ability to be human.

Perhaps, a sterile lab won’t be the most fitting environment to form such a thing.

What if we clothe the machine, provide a roof over its head in a nice quiet house, and feed its mind with the mundane details of existence? Then, could technology bring a machine over the boundary of humanity?

To engineer a brain, a conscience, a life with bare mortal hands. As if to replicate the gods. To compete with the authority of gods through scientific progression, many warn about the possible repercussions.

However, if to give and take life is deemed sinful to be done by mortal hands, then what made those unseen gods any different?

Regardless, such philosophical ramblings won’t help you in finishing the half-written report in front of you.

Looking past the two years' worth of reports sent already, innumerable papers penned by you within the sleep-deprived confines of the Akademiya. With a doctorate framed proudly on bland walls, that should be proof of your ability to type up a simple conclusion, right?

The weighted taps against a backspace key argue otherwise. Frustration leaves your lips in the form of a sigh as you test out a new string of words. Could these few sentences even be comprehensive of the leap in scientific progress made by mankind?

The shapes of letters merge together, forming incomprehensible blotches of black pixels against the white backdrop. Quickly, your lids shut to offer your eyes some much-needed reprieve from the harsh light of the monitor.

It was quite naive of you to believe subjecting your weary eyes to the punishment of light mode would drive up productivity.

Your fingers remove themselves from the keyboard, perhaps your body’s stubborn protest against sitting at the desk for another minute. Maybe a coffee break is an order.

You shouldn’t be too harsh on yourself, there hasn’t been a precedent for an experiment like this. A collaboration between the prideful Fontainian Research Institute and the arrogant Kshahrewar Darshan, the first of its kind.

Perhaps the real marvel is how the weight of their combined egos hasn’t sunk this project into the depths of abandonment.

With a subtle squeak, your office chair rolls back granting you permission to stand up and stretch your weary limbs. Letting out a slight groan as signs of time made themselves known to your bones. The ramifications of your negligence.

Slow steps pad through the quiet halls, floor boards singing a hymn with your leisurely stride toward the kitchen. As you make your way to the end of the long, empty hallway a silvery hue steals your attention.

Slightly obscured by the oak door frame to your home library stood the culmination of your years of overtime and long nights. A surge of anticipation places a slight weightlessness on your legs.

Approaching the end of the hall where the humble library resides, the oak doorway finally framed him in clear view.

Structure much more nimble and organic than the gardemeks framework, with materials sourced from the finest suppliers. The most advanced software and artificial intelligence capabilities ever developed since the Akasha.

The first and only of his kind: The Android Alhaitham.

The said pinnacle of human ingenuity and knowledge is currently flipping through a paperback book as the sunlight illuminates his synthetic skin.

The bounce light made his silver locks glimmer. As your steps slowed to a stop, he took notice of your presence. A soft snap of pages closing resounds through the passive air as Alhaitham turns his focus to you.

Your gaze ran along the neat spines lining each shelf, a small stack of unsorted books still left by his feet, but this morning there were numerous identical piles littered all over the library.

He seems to not have any issues making progress on his assigned tasks, a great sign.

You note that his button-down was a different color today, a sign that he’s practicing switching to a new set of clothes regularly.

A sign of routine, developing habits, and showing his steady learning of human behavior.

The frustrations from an unfinished report fade into obscurity as the subject of your research continues to observe your form. How easy it is to forget the big picture when you stress over the small details.

With this gentle reminder, a soft curl tugs at the corners of your lips.

Alhaitham repositions his stance, turning his body to face you, you figure he must be anticipating another task from you. Since he seems to be mostly done with his previous one, why not assign a new one?

“Could you brew me a cup of coffee, Alhaitham?” As he processes your request, you inspect his teal eyes, catching the slight glow signaling that his response is ready.

“I could, but unfortunately the interval of opportunity has already passed.” His baritone voice articulates.

A subtle quirk made its debut on your brows as your eyes shifted toward a clock hanging up in the corner of the study, its ticking hands displaying the time: 5:15 p.m.

“Huh… you won’t grant me an extension?” You turn back to him.

“If you have a request then please state it between my working hours of 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m., you’re always free to submit again tomorrow.”

He doesn’t budge. An android capable of autonomous training and self-study is different from those gardemeks who only function when given tasks. The ability to develop self-awareness, consciousness, and to think comes with its own caveats.

In Alhaitham’s case, his stubborn nature. Conceivably, he likely reviewed Sumeru’s labor laws and decided that he was entitled to such labor rights as well.

“I work overtime almost every day for your research and development, but you can’t spare me 15 minutes?” Your lips form a pout, but you already predicted his next output.

“Your poor work-life balance is not my responsibility.”

Your prediction was correct.

Another sigh leaves your lips, it’s just one of the trade-offs you must accept. After all, learning to be a human is the reason why he was created. A feat once thought to be unachievable. But he exists, and he’s developed quite a character.

To change the trajectory of this conversation you glance at the book held within his hold.

“Frankenstein by Mary Shelly?” You read the title aloud.

“Yes, the 1831 edition, it’s quite the story.” Alhaitham opens the covers once more.

“Mm, maybe I should be more cautious of what information you come across.” A subtle grin tugging at the corners of your lips as his teal eyes land back on you.

“It’d be a bit of an issue if you were to turn against me from the wrong influences.” Resting your body against the oak doorway as you observe the android process your jest.

“There are safety restrictions already in place to prevent such occurrences, the possibility is near zero. However, if you are still concerned then feel free to upload a list of banned materials for the next version update.”

A huff of a chuckle escapes you as you shift more of your weight against the wooden frame.

“Of course, of course, just remember to place your books back where you found them.” Pushing off the doorway, you allow Alhaitham to continue his unsupervised learning as you amble closer to the kitchen.

The soft clinking of cups and spoons chime through the evening air as you scoop a few ounces of ground coffee into the brewer.

As the water slowly brings itself to a low rumble, you occupy your wait staring out the glass and at the setting sun. The flaming scarlet hues and warmth blend into mellow indigo as the night begins to reveal her stars.

Dusk, when the line between day and night blurs to an indistinguishable mess. Would a singularity also look as luminous as the setting sun? The answer might be closer than ever before.

The reaction to the announcement of an android development project was at first astonishment, that human knowledge had progressed this far. And the secondary reaction that followed like ripples was fear. Fear that humans will soon be replaced by beings of silicon and steel.

That a singularity would signal the end of humanity.

Well, this was always the common reaction to disruptive change. Many cases of public pushback and hysteria against innovations you can reference throughout history. The human reaction to the unknown.

They always gossip and fearmonger about an android domination of all of Teyvat. But have those people ever stopped to consider that the android could simply be too lazy to have such ambitions?

Instead of becoming cruel overlords, they’d rather leave books strewn about as they dock themselves into their charging port.

To learn to be human means to learn human slothfulness too, no? Or maybe Alhaitham’s algorithm just decided to train himself to incorporate it. What a peculiar enigma he is, this android currently residing in your house.

Your thoughts circle back to a certain novel you haven’t touched in years. A work of science fiction written by a genius author barely over the cusp of adulthood.

You wonder how she would’ve described this impending singularity.

A distant toll rang from the depths of a dreamless void, each chime reaching closer and closer until the bright tune devolved into jarring blares. Piercing enough to set your heavy lids into motion.

Just as they peeked open, they flinched back shut from a stray ray that snuck between the gaps of your curtains.

Your leaden body groans at the brightness of the room, the luminosity much greater than when you had originally settled under the covers. Yet, even with your groggy complaints the alarm resting on the nightstand offered no mercy, continuously bellowing its monotone pitch.

With a sharp slap, your world returns to its silence.

Angling the alarm towards you as you creak open one eye, the blurry red pixels slowly merge together to display the time.

Didn’t you have a meeting scheduled for today?

Another groan follows your dreadful discovery and you roll back under the plush blanket. Not much different from a child trying to protect themselves from the grasp of a fictitious monster.

Soft comforters block the morning glow contained behind thick curtains, yet your permission to access a blank serenity was denied. It seems that your quota for sleep has been fulfilled.

Barring you from any excess repose, not that you expected anything less. A monster that torments a young mind might be fictitious, but the realities of capitalistic responsibilities unfortunately aren’t.

Taking in a deep inhale, you prep your body for the next set of dreaded actions with its drowsy limbs. Before it had the chance to protest, you kicked the covers off, ripping away the warm security from your skin.

Ambling down the hall you gradually made your way into the kitchen, there under the morning light sat a steadfast figure whose eyes never left the book in front of him.

“Good Morning.” You initiate the first conversation of the day.

“Congratulations.”

You pause, hand in the midst of rubbing away the tiredness of your eyes. Staring perplexingly at his sudden praise. Alhaitham’s focus remains on his novel even as he answers your unasked question.

“You’ve beat your previous record of how many alarms it takes to get you out of bed, I believe it went off five times this morning.”

A few beats of uninterrupted silence follow the aftermath of his response. A chain broken by a deep sigh which leaves your body.

“It’s far too early for this, Alhaitham.” Your hand goes back into motion, this time attempting to rub away frustration.

“Spare me your sarcasm until after you’ve made me breakfast and a cup of coffee.”

From the glance you took at your clock from earlier, it’s currently well into his operational hours.

“Understood.” Setting the book down, his tall frame makes its way into the kitchen.

Settling down at the lacquered table, your seat grants you a clear view of your android collecting some eggs from the refrigerator. Even as the hands of fatigue beckon your lashes to flutter shut, you refuse to indulge in such luxuries.

You had to watch just in case he decided his book couldn’t wait.

A series of trials and errors already well documented in those weekly reports back to the Akademiya and Institution. A human in training is bound to have some mishaps occur, or more accurately, this android might have different priorities.

One notable case was the time you asked Alhaitham to clean the floors while you attended a conference call. Only to step into puddles of soapy water the moment you leave your office door.

Connecting eyes with teal as he stood in the middle of it all mop in hand. For the time being, you’ve barred him from such tasks.

Although, you wouldn’t be surprised if he made a mess just as an excuse to sit back on the couch with a book. This fickle android of yours. Your third sigh of the day.

–-------------------------------------------------------------

The tranquil afternoon interlude that enveloped the house was interrupted by a sharp chime. Glancing at the numbers displayed on the corner of your screen, it looks like it’s right on schedule.

You had just concluded your monthly conference call, it’d be good to stretch your legs a bit after sitting through a few hours of professional formalities.

Leaving your home office to journey toward the front door, you spot Alhaitham’s frame by the entranceway. His head turns to acknowledge your presence. Passing him to make your way to the front door, you hear him shift closer.

Soon the brilliance of a star pours into the entranceway, illuminating the hall as the door opens.

“Good afternoon, grocery delivery?” The young man on the steps greets, a strain in his polite tone as bags weigh down on his arms.

“Yes, there was a last-minute addition of henna berries, were you able to get those?”

“Yep, they’re in one of these bags.”

“Thank you, sorry for the trouble, I’ll take it from here.” You cast a glance over your shoulders back at a tall form standing idly.

“Please come help with the groceries.”

“Understood.” It took only a few strides for the burden weighing down on the delivery boy, effortlessly hanging them all on his engineered arms without a hint of strain.

“Careful, they’re heavy, mister-” The warning dies at the tip of the young man’s tongue as his wide eye reflects the artificial glow of teal irises.

It’s best to end this trial now, to prevent a commotion or disturbing the delivery boy who isn’t paid enough to be frightened. You could see it in the slight tremble of his agape mouth as his brain processed the thing in front of him.

“Thank you again, please don’t mind him, have a great day.” Before you could hear his response, the door was shut.

A bit rude according to societal norms, but you’re sure a generous gratuity bonus paid on top of the delivery fee is enough to stifle any disgruntlement. Considering his reaction, it looks like your hypothesis remains correct.

The people of Teyvat still need more time to adjust to the existence of androids. Just because science progresses, it doesn’t mean human acknowledgment moves at the same rate.

Turning away from the door, a pair of glass irises connect with yours, a sheen of expectancy just under the brilliant teal hue. Alhaitham stands there with the bags still hanging from his arms.

“If you already know what I’m about to assign you, then you should just take the initiative, Alhaitham.” You huff.

“It’s not a bad habit to wait for any specific instructions.” Came his baritone rebuttal.

“Just take those to the kitchen.”

“Understood.” He pivots away, taking slow steps toward the kitchen.

“Ah, sort them into the fridge and cupboards too, do not just dump them on the counter.” You warn, learning from your previous mistakes.

Seriously, Alhaitham has long evolved past needing step-by-step detailed prompts, thus you suspect it's merely an act of his.

You’ve watched his character develop, his habits form, and his routine take shape. Just where did he learn such behavior? This strange android of yours.

You watch as he carries the numerous bags without a hint of strain. Alhaitham was much better suited for carrying your week’s worth of rations from the market. Unfortunately, he is proprietary technology.

Clearance to allow an android out into the world hasn’t been granted yet.

Not that you were eager to receive it. The logistics of such an event are a nightmare to plan. The protocols needed in emergencies to ensure the safety of civilians and the millions of mora poured into his creation.

There’s always a nonzero chance his system gets overloaded from trying to analyze every blurred face in a crowd. A nonzero chance that he would simply wander beyond the merchants and their fruit stalls. A nonzero chance that the gem implanted between his collarbones could spark curiosity.

Those same curious eyes could catch onto the artificial glow of teal irises, morphing curiosity into terror.

Even in Fontaine where it was more common for machines to walk among crowds, they were always designed to look like machines. Their clockwork pieces are obvious and distinguishable, a design choice to bring comfort to the mortal psyche.

An easy way for a human to differentiate a person and a thing. If that line becomes blurred, then…

With a deep sigh, you reel your thoughts back from their philosophical journey. Regardless, it’d be a problem for the future to handle.

–-------------------------------------------------------------

Soft clacks resound from the keyboard as a new string of words appears on your screen, documenting the events of the day on your laptop as you sit on your sofa.

The soft cushions are a welcomed change from a stiff office chair. Just over the top of your screen, Alhaitham sat across from an adjacent couch. Methodically folding a basket of laundry and sorting them into piles.

An easy enough task for him, but as you watch you make sure to note down the improvements in his motor skills and dexterity. Movements organic and fluid, much like those of a human.

It truly is astonishing just how far technology has progressed, from clockwork pieces and clunky steps to the specimen sitting just a few steps away.

A tall and sturdy frame, well-portioned face with handsome teal irises, and synthetic starlight hair. Features created from the finest equipment and materials, a truly magnificent piece of scientific progress.

Amid your appreciation for his structure, Alhaitham halts all motion, setting down the towel back into the basket. Resulting in your eyebrows creasing together.

“What’s wrong Alhaitham? Did you forget how to fold a towel?”

Alhaitham did not attempt to entertain your jest, so much so, that he simply stared past you. Teal eyes honing in on an object just beyond you, never breaking focus to discern the bewilderment on your face.

Finally relenting, you follow his stare toward a clock, reading the time: 5:00 p.m.

“Seriously? You haven’t finished folding the laundry yet,” you remark in utter exasperation.

The teal glow of his eyes shows that he’s received your remark, yet he doesn’t make an effort to return a verbal response. He chooses instead to simply continue staring at the time as his hands wait by his side in opposition.

Him staring at a clock, you staring at him, a one-sided showdown.

A naughty cat prancing about a countertop where it shouldn’t be could simply be picked up and removed.

A disobedient dog dirtying the couch with its muddy paws could be lured off with the sight of a treat.

But an android? What are you going to do to an android whom you had to tilt your head up to make eye contact with?

This wasn’t a hill you’re willing to die on, thus with a dismissive wave of your hand, you concede. Allowing Alhaitham to do as he pleases, which he graciously does. His form leaves the couch, heading in the predictable direction of the library as a deep sigh leaves you.

This stubborn android of yours, you made sure to document this on today’s report. Just as how it was yesterday, and the day before, and even the day before that.

Hopefully, in the event of an actual android apocalypse, he might show you the same leniency. You couldn’t help but scoff at your ridiculous musings. A machine with nothing but a motor and battery in his chest, would he understand leniency even if you were to code it into him?

Soon his frame comes back into view, a pile of books clutched within his hold, just as you predicted. Shamelessly, he sits in the middle of his unfinished chores while leisurely scanning the pages in front of him.

This fickle, strange, and stubborn android follows the rhythm of his own motor regardless of what protocols you instill.

Yet, as you watch his fingers flip through the worn book and take up space on your couch, a smile develops on your features. A soft curl of your lips, easily obscured by the screen of your laptop.

A fickle, strange, and stubborn android is not too different from a person, one who had a heartbeat.

An android who takes up space on your couch and house, making it a bit less empty than previously. That was good enough.

What made man? Intellect? Innovation? Language?

This was the dilemma assigned to him since the very first time his system powered up in that facility, welcomed into this world by glaring fluorescent lights and the numerous stares of figures in white coats.

A dilemma that follows him even to his current place on a spacious couch.

According to sources pulled from the Akasha and cross-references from numerous printed materials made available to him, many throughout history have been pondering this same conundrum. A philosopher once defined man as featherless bipeds.

However, wouldn’t this make a plucked chicken a man too? A definition so ambiguous a mere student proved the teacher wrong.

Then, is man defined by their flesh? Having skin and bones instead of silicon parts and metal components? To have blood pumped by a heart instead of operating off a battery and motor? Was it biology that defined man?

But if that was the simple truth, then why was Frankenstein’s creation addressed as nothing more than a monster?

From his arms to his legs to his mind, everything which made up that creature was human. He had blood, he had flesh, he had bones. So why was he chased away by flaming torches and pitchforks as a mob screamed ‘monster’? Why was a creature made from human flesh not human?

His train of thought halts as a familiar set of steps patter against the floor. Automatically, his sights hone in at the corner of a wall even before your face reveals itself from behind it.

Teal-colored eyes refocus to catch the subtle perk of your eyebrows and widened eyes. An expression of surprise he analyzes, his immediate focus must have caught you off guard.

Did you have some other test outlined for him? Did you need to collect more data from earlier today? Another household task perhaps?

How unfortunate, the hour on the clock read half past 8 p.m. Have you not learned from your tardiness the week prior?

“If you have a request, then please wait until 9 a.m. tomorrow when I’m within my business hours.”

Even with the wall partially obscuring your form, the restrained giggle through lips fighting back a grin was picked up by his audio system.

“No, no, there’s no more tasks for today.”

As your gaze centers on him, he takes note of the refractions of fluorescent lights along your irises.

“Then is there something you’d like to discuss?” He prompts.

“Mm… no, not right now.”

His stone-faced stare was enough of a response, judging by the smile spreading across your features.

“I just felt like checking up on you, after all, you are the most proprietary piece of technology at the moment.”

At times like these, Alhaitham felt that the audio cue of a sigh was the most effective communication out of all the languages created by man. Muffed chuckles accompany it.

“I’ll leave you be then.”

The floorboards trill under your steps as you amble towards the kitchen. Alhaitham returns to the last few pages still left open on his lap.

Small tinkering from beyond the living room serves as an ambient tune. The swift opening and closing of a refrigerator door. A harsh pull on a microwave door is contrasted by the bright beeps of buttons, leading to a low hum.

He hypothesizes there to be some leftovers spinning around.

After the microwave sang its concluding chimes, the clatter of a plate follows a firm tug. A drawer rattles open, metal clinking against metal as you sift around for the right utensil. The drawer rattles again as it closes.

Rhythmic footsteps take center stage as they trail back down an empty hall, Alhaitham waits to hear the resounding click of a door returning to its frame. Just as the final echo of the click sounds out through the air he places the finished novel on the coffee table.

Leaving the comfort of the cushions, he makes his way to the kitchen to access the aftermath. A microwave door left wide open, a drawer only halfway closed, and of course another dirty coffee mug in the sink.

Returning the microwave and drawer to their rightful states, his teal eyes count the pile of cups sitting since this morning. A collection that grew throughout the day.

Alhaitham looks up in the direction of your office. A soft glow leaked out from under the gap of the door, bleeding light into the dim hall. His systems identify the audible taps of a keyboard and the occasional shift of an office chair. He deduces that you were working overtime again.

He found it a bit ironic at times. A body of mechanical components has no qualms about lounging on a sofa. But you, a creature of flesh and blood, refuse to submit to the allure of rest. Although, Alhaitham wouldn’t find it too implausible that coffee ran through those veins of yours instead.

Repetitive clacks of keys and mouse clicks play a melody he had heard ever since the first day he opened his eyes.

A tune that accompanies the rhythm of his steps and motions when he goes about his tasks as you document them.

A lullaby that plays after his routine tasks as he heads back to his charging port when you log a daily report.

An accompaniment to the silent moon and her stars as you stay up at a desk.

Needing to reach the next exit criteria. Needing to collect the next set of data. Needing to submit the next report.

Would it be because a body of flesh has agency? With cells in a losing race against time, was there something you wanted to attain within your mortal hands from this research before the race ended?

Or did you just want to fill the vacant lull of this house with those little taps of a keyboard?

Regardless, it’s not within his capacity to disturb your work. Thus all he could do was roll up his sleeves, turn on the running water, and pick up a sponge. Scrubbing the cups with warm soapy water, imitating the motions you’ve shown him before, until the dried stains vanish.

If it’s not featherlessness, if it’s not bipedalism, and if it’s not flesh… then could it just be agency that made him different from you?

Maybe he’ll ask you another day, placing the cups into the dish rack.

Sorting and organizational tasks are his strong suit, in other words, he’s very good at completing easy jobs. Leaving the more… tedious chores to you.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you rest on the handle of the broom. The hallway between your office and the bedrooms is the last section that needs to be swept.

Alhaitham was likely back in his place on the couch, book in hand as he lounged around. Weren’t androids created in hopes of making life easier?

So much for that, you internally huffed, repositioning your grip on the broom. A soft but bright clink catches your attention. Glancing down, you quickly discover the source. A ring wrapped around your finger.

Kept on your finger for so long, it’s become almost an extension of yourself, this keepsake piece of jewelry.

Abandoning the broom against a wall, your other hand fiddles with the gold band. A frown forms upon your lips when a faint scratch shows itself on the gold surface

Gingerly, you remove the ring, pinching it between your fingers as you hold it up to the light, examining the damage closer. The shine of its once-polished surface was dulled by trivial scuffs and dents, damaged by the signs of time.

Regrettably, it seems you’ve been neglecting it as well.

So much so, that the ring felt compelled to remove itself from your grasp in protest. Slipping out of your tender hold, which propels you into motion, graceless attempts at catching the small piece of jewelry to no avail.

It soon collides with the wooden floor as a chime rings out, still, gravity didn’t buy you enough time to catch the evasive gem. For it then decides to run under the gap of a door, disappearing from your sight. Leaving you there in defeat.

Taking a deep inhale, holding it for a few seconds, you release the air in your lungs. Returning your gaze up from the wood grain, you stare at the obstacle in front of you: a mere door.

Its brass knob gleams as if to taunt you, daring you to open it, to face what lay beyond. Slowly, you release your clenched fingers, setting your hand back into motion. You’re far too grown to be scared of a room in your own home, especially when you know what is behind it.

Its hinges ring out in surprise, it’s been a while since they were opened. The daunting door opens up to reveal a lackluster collection of old furniture, picture frames, and various other assortment of items.

Their forms all covered by plain sheets thrown over them, silhouettes, outlined like ghost. A slight tickle appears in your nose from the layers of dust you disturbed.

A poor, unfortunate room you’ve designated as storage, where items go to be neglected. You were busy enough with work as it is.

To avoid seeing the reminders of responsibilities you’ve been pushing off, you’d rather throw them behind a door. Out of your sight, out of your mind.

The sooner you find that ring, the sooner you can turn a blind eye to the various items you’ve long abandoned yet refused to let go of. Amongst the dull dust and sheets, it wasn’t very hard to spot the golden glimmer from peaking through.

Trudging towards the mischievous ring, you kneel to finally catch it within your hand. Such a troublesome thing, you chide as you stand back up. Bracing your other hand on the nearest sheet-covered surface, only for it to come into contact with an odd object.

Startled, you instinctively hold onto both the ring and the odd object as you jolt back up. Glancing down at your hands, your eyes finally identify the object.

A collection of tiny planets and stars dangling from thin strings glimmered with the soft light creeping in from the afternoon sun. A soft smile made its way to your lips.

How silly it was that a toy made to entertain young infants had you so enraptured. You bought it on a whim, then tossed it into the depths of a dust-covered room. And yet it’s now back in your hands. Perhaps the beckoning of the stars still calls for you.

A part of you wonders if it was your fascination with the night sky that caused sleep to evade you. Sitting up on a mattress well past bedtime to gaze out to the vast ocean of dazzling and blinking lights that dotted against a navy backdrop. While the pristine radiance of the moon reflected off your irises.

Or did your fascination develop because it was always the moon and her stars that silently accompanied your long nights?

Gentle lights who lent you their well wishes and encouragement as you anguished through assignments and exams.

What an honor it was for you to be able to witness her beauty so often. It was a pity that some, who disregarded her grace in favor of dreams, weren’t able to experience the brilliance of a starry night.

Maybe your parents fell in the category of the majority. Maybe that’s why they couldn’t even fathom such a thing.

A past conversation over an old wooden table started in your mind before you could muster the strength to push it back.

–----

“C’mon, eat, eat.” Your mother places a hearty serving of Biryani in front of you.

The old kitchen table groaned under the weight of the spread of dishes on its surface. To call it anything short of a feast would be a lie. The walls of the modest home are filled with a variety of rich aromas and spices.

“You have to eat to study harder, don’t think just because you made it into the Akademiya you can take it easy now.” Your father remarked.

“I wouldn’t dare dream of it.” You picked up your fork.

Letting out a chuckle, he pats your back as a rare smile graced his stern face. Your mother’s face mirrored the same radiance, the beaming glow of pride. For you, their daughter, their only child, and only hope had been accepted into the Akademiya.

The most prestigious university of all of Sumeru and Teyvat, with millions competing for those few spots each and every year. Only the best of the best, only those who outshone the rest, and only those gifted and blessed would ever be admitted.

Yet, you were sent a letter from the oh-so-grand institution.

A child from a town far away in the shadows of the grand Akademiya was accepted.

What were the odds of that? For a child whose own parents never got the opportunity for higher education to become the first to go off to university? The cause of this celebratory feast.

The warm Spring breeze contributed to the sweetness of this small moment in time, as plates were passed and glasses clanked.

All those scattered notes, cramped hands, and revisions have rewarded you with the golden brilliance of sunrise after endlessly long nights.

A smile crept up the corners of your lips. A light has finally appeared to illuminate this trending path you’ve climbed.

Your father washed down his previous bite with a sip from his cup, placing it down before he began his next question:

“Have you decided on which Darshan to go into?”

The sweet breeze turns into a chill down your spine as your fork halts its motion. The dilemma you have been dreading has finally arrived at the kitchen table.

You had to memorize every mathematical formula. You had to pinpoint every detail in a historical timeline. You had to know every syntax of a sentence. You had to understand the molecular structures of life.

A child had to learn everything, and now they had to pick something to learn. How would the child know? The child only knew how to study.

“Amurta? Spantamad? Oh, what about Kshahrewar? I heard that it was also good.” Your mother chimed in.

“Amurta?” Your father scoffed a bit.

“Dear, as if this tuition isn’t expensive enough, think of how much med school will cost.”

“Oh I know, I know, but you know how well doctors get paid! I heard those labs also give a decent salary.” Your mother reasons.

“Ah, but it takes too long. Engineering isn’t half bad either, there’s been a demand for more engineers recently.” Your father takes another sip of his drink.

“Oh, but it’s not up to us,” she turned to face you.

“It’s up for our little scholar now isn’t it?”

A paradoxical question, because your options were already decided for you from the very start.

Carefully selected paths were already laid out before you as your parents watched on with expecting eyes, waiting for your foot to take a step on the path they wanted most.

Poking at a stray grain of rice on your plate, you gather up the scattered pieces of courage. You were a child who only knew how to study, yet, a child is still susceptible to dreams, no?

“I have thought about it.” You began.

“And?” Your mother couldn’t help but nudge you to continue.

“I was thinking about Rtawahist,” you confessed.

It was as if even the sweet Spring air wanted to escape the now-still walls, leaving dread to fill the void it had left. No dishes were passed, no utensils rattled, and no cups clinked. Just bewildered stares you couldn’t bring yourself to answer.

“Rtawahist? As in the school that looks at the sky?” Your father’s face had returned to its stern default.

“Astronomy? Yes, that’s the Darshan that studies Astronomy.” Your eyes didn’t dare leave your plate.

Among the options selected by them from their perceptions of future opportunities and prestige for you. You dare interject with one of your own.

A deep sigh sealed your fate.

“Astronomy? You want to study Astronomy? And get what job?”

The pierce from your father’s harsh tone made you flinch, even though you expected it.

“You can look at the stars for free, why would I pay to send you to school to study something so useless?”

“There are jobs for Astronomy.” You reasoned.

“Like what?” His finger drummed against the wood.

“Like-”

You made the mistake of looking up from your plate, the fragile wisps of courage dissipated like smoke the moment you did. All the arguments and rebuttals you had prepared vanished along with it. The frown that pulled down your father’s face and the scrunched brow concern of your mother’s were enough to snuff out your pitiful rebellion.

“Go on.” He challenged.

“...”

“That’s what I thought.” Your father snatched up his cup.

Your focus retreated back to your plate, recentering on the grains of rice you pushed around with the ends of a fork. A motion that continued until another hand stopped yours.

“Little one…” Your mother began.

Her thumb traced over your fidgeting hand, a touch which comforted yet scorned you all at once.

“You know that lady who lived down the street? Her son got a career working with computers and now they live in a big house, doesn’t that sound nice?”

You hummed.

“Kshahrewar isn’t so bad, right? Just a few years and then you can get a good job.”

Yes, she had spelled out the purpose of your studies like red-inked corrections on a test. It was how it always was, why did you think it would change now?

Having to prove you deserved the food on the plate in front of you.

Having to bring home top grades to prove all those books and materials were worth it.

Having to get a job that could break this cycle your parents were trapped in. How else would you be able to pay them back?

It was their mora, earned from long hours and labor, that fed you, clothed you, and sheltered you. They made your world with their calloused hands. It was their justification to command it as well. You were their only child, their only investment.

This was the dilemma imposed upon you.

–----

Your fingers clench around the childish imitation of the night sky, running the plastic surfaces under your mindless touch. Thoughts still light years away in the recesses of your memories.

How silly, for someone who loved the planet and the stars so much how did you forget that one fascinating detail? Planets orbit a sun because of gravity.

It was the force of a greater mass that commanded the lesser, it was what kept a planet going round and round within its grasp. It was the gravity of the sun that gave a planet a direction, a path to follow, a purpose even.

Perhaps it’s because the sun knew what was best for its little planet.

It was the diplomas framed nicely on a wall that granted you a secure job, it was your cushy job that permitted you to purchase this cushy home.

Your parents planned this out long ago, thus you merely just followed.

However, when the sun disappears, when the central mass that gave a small planet a purpose disappears, what would the little planet do?

Drifting endlessly in a vacuum of nothingness, with no direction, no path, no light. No day or night and an endless Winter, would it be as if the world stopped spinning.

That little planet would be no different than a cold lump of rock in a vast emptiness.

A sharp creak pierces through the tormentful quietude, a chirr that reels your thoughts back to a dusty room. Head instinctively following the direction of the noise, you fixate on the doorway.

Catching the diffused afternoon sun glimmering in silver locks reminiscent of starlight.

Alhaitham stands silently at the threshold of the door, its frame perfectly centering him as his teal eyes analyze you. Not a single engineered limb crossed the boundary of the dusty room. Just as it was defined in a set of restrictions implemented into his system by you.

As evidenced by his unintentional disregard for his environment, the floorboards bearing witness to his careless execution of chores, you restricted him from this decrepit room.

Although all it contains is a chaotic collection of trinkets and keepsakes, the dust-coating provides them with a blanket of security. You saw no reason to change it.

A telling teal glow blinks momentarily before Alhaitham breaks the lull.

“Are you uncomfortable anywhere?”

It was just now that you noticed the wet trails rolling down your cheeks. Wiping away the cooling dampness on your skin, you confirmed the presence of tears. Your senses took their time returning from their escapade.

Alhaitham remains in his spot, patiently awaiting your next response. How embarrassing it is, to be seen in such a state by a being who could shed no tears. Quickly, you wipe away the trails on your other cheek.

“I’m fine, just lost in thought for a moment.” Swiftly you place the toy down.

A smooth weight encased in the palm of your hand reminds you of the ring, the item that lured you into this dusty room.

Perhaps it should be best to have let it remain undisturbed on your finger. It’s a common wives’ tale that keepsakes ward off bad omens.

“Is that truly all?” He made a no move, his eyes rescanning the environment as if unconvinced by your answer.

You wonder if it’s because of some protocol or conditional in his software. Safety measures set in place during this test of whether an artificial being could live in harmony with mortals.

However, as you gaze upon your magnum opus the specifics of programming and software fade into irrelevancy. Trailing your eyes up from his teal irises to his starlight silver trusses that glimmered in the soft light, revealing a hint of mint. It took you a while to find that exact shade during his manufacturing stage.

There’s always a chance that a drifting planet could be caught in the orbital pull of another. Whether it be man-made or not didn’t matter.

As long as it was of a significant mass its gravity should be enough to pull a lonely planet from its aimless wanderings. It can set the stray planet into a new orbit, giving it a new path.

A small lump of rock could find a new star to center around.

“Yes, I’ll be fine.”

You will be fine. Slowly, and with one step after another, you will be fine one day.

The typical 24-hour day for a working adult can be broken down into a set schedule. Waking up at around 8 a.m. to wash one’s face and brush their teeth as they make themselves presentable for work. Followed by a light breakfast or a cup of coffee before.

Some then start their commute to work or jump onto their desktop to clock in around 9 a.m. to begin their work. In the middle of their shift, usually around noon, they are granted a one-hour lunch break, after that they work until 5 p.m. when they finish their work.

Coming back home to enjoy dinner around 7 p.m. followed by an hour or two of leisure before a bedtime routine begins. Washing the day's influences off oneself, brushing their teeth, and changing into comfortable attire.

If they want to get a restful 8 hours of sleep they cannot go to bed any later than 10:45 p.m. to account for the 15-minute downtime to allow the body to enter the sleeping state.

This cycle then resets and repeats just as the sky cycles through the sun and moon. A typical and average reality for most adults in Sumeru. Well, from the data he pulled from the Akasha, this was the typical day for the average working civilian.

It just so happens that you’re a stray data point skewing the graph.

If he were to estimate your bedtimes from the activity of your desktop and laptop, it would be a chaotic set of timestamps ranging from 2 a.m. to 5 a.m., sometimes the activity on your devices never ceased. An indication of what is referred to as an ‘all-nighter’.

Behavior that might be acceptable for those attending the Akademiya, but certainly not for a working adult.

At this moment, Alhaitham stood in the hall just a few steps away from your bedroom door. His frame remained motionless to avoid disturbing the floorboards beneath him.

Taking into account your device’s activities, Alhaitham estimates your bedtime was 4: 45 a.m. this morning. Given how your alarm is set to around 8 a.m., amounting to about 3 hours of sleep.

Not even half of the recommended time by Sumeru’s health administration.

By all means, Alhaitham finds it confounding how you’re still able to perform so efficiently at your job, managing both the Insitute and Akademiya while operating on a few morsels of sleep.

He wonders if that was the reason why you were selected as the personnel who’s facilitating his learning.

Perhaps, they hoped he’d emulate your work ethic and efficiency. How unfortunate, his self-learning pivoted him away from such conduct.

As he stands observing the woodgrain of your door, Alhaitham finds himself at a crossroads. It’s not within his capacity to interfere, conditionals coded into his software to prevent him from disrupting your privacy.

Laws mandating the privacy of employees and civilians alike.

Simultaneously, there are protocols instilled in him that instruct him to prevent harm from befalling you.

A contradiction. Something that would cause a regular system to return an error as it fails to satisfy one conditional while trying to work within the bounds of another.

Chronic sleep loss results in an increased risk of heart attacks, strokes, and hypertension.

Long-term sleep loss also results in impaired memory and concentration, although it’s not affecting your productivity now, it doesn’t mean it won’t decline soon.

These statistics were all provided by Sumeru’s health administration.

The effects on the brain are quite severe as well, with increased feelings of stress, anxiety, and depression.

A quiet afternoon scene replays, in a dust-covered room, where he found you staring off at nothing as silent rivulets rolled down your cheeks.

That memory stored within his RAM was enough for Alhaitham to come to his conclusion.

Alhaitham must act on his own will and deal with anything that appears harmful in his eyes.

To allow you to continue your destructive routine which is proving to be detrimental to your health would be inadvertently allowing harm to befall you. Thus, he decides one conditional must override another.

Careful to prevent the hinges of your bedroom door from trilling, Alhaitham enters. Analyzing the shape outlined by messy layers of blankets draped over your figure, you must still be in the depths of slumber.

There are about 15 minutes before your first alarm is set to go off, since your commute was a simple walk to your home office, you had the flexibility to sleep through a few grating beeps.

This habit could use a few improvements. He turns his focus to the thick curtains hiding the room away from the greetings of a morning star.

Sunlight sends a signal to the pituitary gland, calling to suppress melatonin production and increase cortisol production and serotonin.

A natural cue for your body to start, to allow the bright rays to touch your skin would also be good for vitamin production too.

With a simple tug, the thick drapes were pulled away, granting the rays of the sun to enter and illuminate the still room.

Your body instinctively retreats deeper under the covers, a clear sign that the light is doing its job. He’ll leave the rest up to the alarm impatiently waiting to belt out its chorus of pitches. Just like the shadows slipping away, he exits just as quietly.

It took only two alarms to get you out of bed and ambling down the hall toward the kitchen. A 60% decrease from when the curtains were shut, however, more trials are needed to conclusively establish a pattern.

His teal gaze follows you as you approach the kitchen. Hands rubbing at your eyes.

“Why is it so bright?” Your words were groggy.

“It’s morning,” he answers.

An unamused glare replaces the fatigue in your expression, Alhaitham deems his response satisfactory.

After a deep sigh, you shut your eyes again, still trying to adjust to the brightness surrounding you, hands returning to rub at your eyelids.

Excessive rubbing of the eyes isn’t good for them, he notes. However, before he could address it another prompt from you took priority.

“Did I leave my curtains open last night?” You asked yourself.

“Coffee?” He interjects.

Glancing back up at him, you paused for a moment as your groggy mind remembered why you traversed to the kitchen in the first place, diverting your attention away from mysteriously moving drapes.

“Yes, please make me a cup, Alhaitham.”

“Understood.”

The android turns toward the marble countertop, preparing the coffee grounds into the machine as you sit at your place at the table.

One day isn’t enough to correct a bad habit, but over time, bit by bit, your schedule will fall into a new rhythm.

–-------------------------------------------------------------

The cheerful doorbell ring interrupts Alhaitham amidst reorganizing the books on a shelf. Right on schedule.

From just down the hall he hears the knob of your office door turn as it opens, followed by a few cautious steps as you venture closer to the front door. As you pass the doorway of the library, Alhaitham observes the furrow between your brow on your perplexed face.

“Is there someone at the door?” You turn to him.

Another ring followed by a few gentle knocks answers your question for him as your head snaps back into the direction of the noise. Crime in this suburban neighborhood is very low, but he does understand why you’d want to be careful.

Perhaps, he should accompany you to ease your nerves over the sudden ring from the door.

With an android just behind you, you had finally mustered up the courage to answer the daunting door under his teal supervision.

“Hello, delivery from Lambad’s Tavern, paid online.”

“Huh?-”

“One order of Minty Bean Soup, one order of butter chicken, and one rose custard?” The delivery man interrupts your confusion as he lists off your entrees.

“Yes…” you reply as you cast a glance back at an idle android.

The entrees listed were all dishes you asked him to make you for lunch a few hours earlier. Judging by the suspicion upon your furrowed brows, he could tell that you noticed as well. However, with a delivery man holding out the takeout bag on the front steps. It’d be rude to just have him remain there, no?

“Enjoy your meal!” He announces as he hands over the bag into your arms.

“Yes, thank you.” You close the door, spinning around almost instantly to confront the android with the bag still in hand.

“Did you order this?”

“Yes.”

“Again? I asked you to make food, not order it,” you tsk.

“I did it to optimize my time.” Crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“All you have to do is heat up the frozen meals.”

“Then according to protocol, I’d have to stay in the kitchen to watch over the oven and stove, not to mention the dishes I’d have to wash afterward. So ordering takeout would save time as well as not prevent me from my task of organizing-”

“Okay, okay. I get it.” You concede with a sigh.

Taking a few steps past him towards the direction of the kitchen before you pause midstep to turn back to him.

“Do not use your funds to order weird things off the internet.” You warn before promptly continuing on your way to have your late lunch.

“Understood.”

Just as he suspected, there isn’t a problem that can’t be helped with a bit of mora. If Alhaitham were to follow your request as you instructed, he knew that the reheated meal would turn cold as it sits abandoned on the kitchen table.

Even when he informs you of his task’s completion, you’d push back your lunchtime until you needed another dose of caffeine.

However, a simple ring of a doorbell could do what he can’t. Drawing your attention and body away from the confines of your desk. An efficient reminder to have your meals at a regular time if he says so himself.

Besides, fresh ingredients are better than frozen meals in terms of nutrients.

–-------------------------------------------------------------

The sun had long retreated into a navy blanket of the night, allowing the moon to take its place in the sky. Serene beauty watching over the nighttime bustle of Sumeru city slowly peters out, and many return to their homes at the beck and call of slumber.

Alhaitham settled himself upon his spot on the couch, a lamp just off to the side illuminating the pages of his book softly. The quiet lull of the living room periodically broken by the crisp turn of a page.

The typical rhythm that resonates through the house around this hour. His acute senses pick up a frustrated pair of steps pattering closer.

Ah, yes a new accompaniment has jumped this evening's tempo.

“Is the router having issues again?” You groan as your frame appears from around the corner.

Casting a halfhearted glance off to where said device sat on a side table, his teal eyes return to his book.

“The light shows that it’s online.”

“Then why is it taking forever to upload a simple file? It’s been five minutes and it’s not even halfway done.” You took quick strides past his idle frame.

Crouching down to be at eye level with the device in question. Unplugging the power cord from its back and then sticking it back. Eyes studying the blinking lights as the router reboots and reconnects to the internet.

Pulling out your phone, you sigh as you try to load up a webpage only to be met by a spinning circle of contemplation.

“Network providers tend to have slowdowns this late at night, some say it's due to bandwidth congestion while others argue that they do it to cut costs,” Alhaitham states, teal eyes honed in onto the text as to avoid your pouting glare.

“Very helpful, Alhaitham.” Another sigh leaves you as you stand back up.

He spoke the technical truth, those companies do tend to slow down their networks at night to save on some operational costs.

However, in this case, it was the former that was causing your device’s screens to perpetually stay in loading. Activities such as streaming videos, music, or downloading files take up the most bandwidth.

Alhaitham simply wanted to download some digital copies of recent scientific journals, and maybe a few songs here and there as well. All done simultaneously which led to some congestion.

How unfortunate.

“This has been happening for the past month now, I should call the network provider, it’s driving me up a wall.” Another groan of frustration.

His teal eyes follow your figure from behind the tops of his book, watching you rub your temples as if to expel the exasperation from your body with each mumble that leaves your lips.

“The internet’s so slow I can’t even connect to the Akasha’s databases, that file is still uploading, what should I do in the meantime?”

His hearing was able to pick up each syllable uttered from under your exhausted breath. He shifts his focus momentarily toward the clock just across the room, reading: 10:00 p.m. Since you asked, it’s only right that he responds with his input.

“It’s an issue beyond your control, the best option to utilize your time at this moment would be to get an adequate amount of rest.”

This time it was your turn to respond to him with a deadpan stare, clearly unamused by his suggestion.

“I want to analyze a few more datasets.”

“Missing a few hours of overtime won’t have any determinate effects on your productivity or livelihood.”

“This is for the sake of your development, Alhaitham.” You sigh as if your statement would mystically change his rationale.

“The short-term gratification you’ll get from sacrificing your rest for a few revelations isn’t worth the long-term ramifications of your health.” He bluntly discloses.

Silence fills the room once more, but something odd seems to have mingled with the serenity of the air. This strange inclusion prompts Alhaitham to finally turn away from the pages, connecting his gaze with yours.

“Was my response unsatisfactory?” He studies your expression, and rather than furrowed brows, he finds a soft roundness to your eyes.

Him staring at you, you staring at him. A scene that continued for a few beats more before you were the first to break the stalemate.

“No, not at all… it’s just very reminiscent of something I’ve heard before…” You turn away as his gaze follows.

A few slow strides take you back to the corner, figure just about to disappear into the shadows engulfing the halls before you abruptly turn around.

“Goodnight, Alhaitham.”

“Goodnight.” He mirrors.

Alhaitham marks today as another successful trail of correcting a bad routine.

–-------------------------------------------------------------

Adequate amounts of sunlight, regular meals, and coffee grounds mysteriously find themselves placed on the highest shelf in the cabinets. All the factors were in place to regulate a disastrous sleep schedule.

Yet when Alhaitham checks your device activity, the data points remain scattered about the twilight hours of the morning. A true paradox.

Amongst the Summer afternoon rays seeping in through the windows, Alhaitham was tasked with tidying up the kitchen. An obscure cabinet in a corner was the last section before he could deem the request complete.

There wasn’t anything in particular about the cabinet, it’s space housing an assortment of various vitamins. That was until his hand brushed against a plastic container which didn’t conform to the typical shape of vitamin bottles.

Grasping it within his hand, he pulls the irregular bottle out from the murky depths of a cabinet and out into the sunlight where its identity unravels: a prescription bottle.

Barbiturates sedatives, colloquially referred to as sleeping pills, are used in treatments for insomnia.

It looks like Alhaitham has stumbled upon the answer to the paradox printed on the faded label of a neglected bottle.

Frankly, this revelation wasn’t all that surprising. He had long suspected it from the symptoms and behaviors you display daily. But it’s always good to support a hypothesis with evidence.

Studying the container in his hand further, his gaze narrows as it hones in a corner of the label. In particular, the date printed along it. This bottle expired two years ago.

It’s recommended that every civilian visits the Bimarstan annually for a checkup, in a nation where healthcare is free and accessible, this typically isn’t an issue.

Once more, you stood alone as a data point outside of the cluster.

Stepping into the living room, he finds you tinkering with the network router again. A few more steps and then he was by your side.

“When was your last medical check-up?” Cycling through his memory, Alhaitham failed to recall the last time you had a medical assessment.

Your body halts momentarily, before glancing up at his beryl eyes.

“I’m relatively healthy, there’s no reason for an assessment.”

“The Department of Health recommends annual checkups at the very least.”

“I don’t need to go to the Bimarstan,” you declare.

A weight pulled down at the corners of his lips, creating what is called a frown. An expression he observed many times upon your lips whenever you label him as ‘stubborn’. He might finally grasp why you do such a thing.

Stubbornness isn’t such a good trait when you’re on the other side of it. Fortunately, he anticipated this.

“In accordance with the law, you do.” The contents of the plastic bottle rattle as he reveals it, drawing your gaze toward it.

“The regulation behind your prescription requires that all expired medication be brought back to the Bimarstan for proper disposal.” Denunciation behind his glass irises.

Lips pressing into a thin line, you advert your eyes back to the blinking router in front of you. Each second of silence announces your defeat.

Human actions are limited by a set of laws and they must operate within the bounds, not too different from restrictions imposed on machines.

The consequences looming just a step away discourage most mortals from crossing the threshold.

“I’ll schedule an appointment for noon next week, making use of your saved paid time off is recommended, does that work?” He prompts.

“Alright.”

A weight is alleviated from his lips, triggering the corners to curl upwards. A common response to the accomplishment of a challenge, he understands now why a mortal body does it.

Perhaps a doctor's visit has been long overdue, foggy recollections of if the curtains were shut the night before and if a bag of coffee was accidentally misplaced. Poor memory is one of the repercussions of sleep deprivation, you’re aware of this fact.

Healthcare in Sumeru is highly accredited for its accessibility and quality, the Bimarstan being the standard many hospitals around Teyvat strive to be. To have such a thing so accessible to you, it’s baffling to many how you failed to utilize such privilege.

You had your reasons.

Many of these prominent doctors and diligent nurses were once classmates. A few vaguely familiar faces from across a lecture hall of some general course.

Faces you’ve passed slumped over textbooks and piles of notes in the late hours of the House of Daena, their dark circles matching yours.

Faces that graduated alongside you as celebratory cheers rang out with caps littering the air.

It’d be strange to meet someone you attended the Akademiya with once again in an examination room.

After their years of medical school and surviving residency, you’re certain they’re more than qualified at their jobs. However, it doesn’t change the course of averted eyes and superficial pleasantries.

You breathe out a deep sigh as the receptionist calls out for you, informing you that you could head down to a private room.

Leaving your seat in the waiting room, you do as the receptionist instructs, exiting the lively environment into a placid hallway. The receptionist’s face didn’t evoke any familiarity, nor did the doctor’s name listed on your appointment.

Many of these prominent doctors and diligent nurses were once classmates, but not all.

Candidly, there’s only one classmate who you’d avert paths with within this establishment. In a hospital as large as the Bimarstan, the average number of staff ranges from around 5,000.

The odds of encountering a particular face out of a pool of thousands is nonzero.

A polite knock draws you from your thoughts, your eyes travel toward the door of the private room you entered not too long ago as the handle slowly turns. Thick oak swinging ajar to reveal the figure on the other side.

“Good afternoon, I’m Dr. Rana, I’ll be taking care of you today.”

You return her greeting with a courteous smile and nod, statistics in your favor, the odds were nonzero but still a minuscule likelihood.

The checkup was rather uneventful, a few questions were asked as she pulled up your medical records. You pulled out the expired medication for her to examine and deal with.

Vitals checked and documented as the appointment drew to a close, a notepad and pen in her hands as she turned to you.

“Overall your health seems fine, although…” she trails off.

You could feel the weight of her stare upon the discoloration ever-present under your eyes, no layer of concealer to cover them. You could already guess her next sentence.

“Would you like a refill of your prescription?”

“No, it’s fine.” It’d just be another bottle to be neglected in the back of a cabinet.

“I see…” This time her eyes move back and forth between your sitting figure and a clock hanging in its place on a wall.

“I… have to process some paperwork, could you wait here for a few minutes?” A polite smile graced her lips.

“Of course.” You mimic her actions.

A day requested off to account for a drawn-out appointment, to account for a scenario like this his foresight analysis is making great progress.

You should take note of that once you return home, a daily log still needs to be updated to track consistent progress after all. It’s technically your day off, but you’re free to decide what to do with it.

As you pondered a checklist to complete once you got in front of your desk the door creaks open.

“Oh? That was fast, Dr. Rana-” The sentence dying upon the tip of your tongue as your lips press into a firm line.

The odds of encountering one familiar face out of a pool of thousands is a small nonzero number, however, if that number was increased to three faces out of those thousands, the chances increase.

How unfortunate, even with such small odds, you managed to come face-to-face with the three people you wanted to avoid the most.

They file into the room and the last one closes the door behind himself as your eyes scan over them. Starting with the ebony-haired man in the center, Tighnari, a doctor at the Bimarstan. It makes sense for a doctor to be in a hospital on this fine day, but not for a lawyer, or an architect.

Four former classmates gathered in an examination room, how strange.

Still, you’ve grown enough to adapt to such peculiar situations. Practiced corporate smiles and pleasantries to navigate this stagnant air.

“Cyno, Tighnari, Kaveh, it’s a surprise to see you all here. It’s been a while.”

“A while is a bit of an understatement…” Kaveh is the first of the trio to converse, offering you a small smile.

You return it with one that didn’t reach your eyes. The rhythmic ticks of a clock fill the silence, shifting eyes anticipating and preparing for the next phase of this impromptu reunion. The doctor finally decides to speak up.

“You haven’t been sleeping enough, have you.” Tighnari examining your under eyes.

“I never sleep enough, you know that.” Of course you never slept enough.

How could you sleep when the threat of falling behind the geniuses sitting around a library table was always looming over you? Geniuses who easily grasp the concepts and theories that elude you. How could you lay in bed when you had to catch up to them?

“So, why this sudden get-together?” Impatience rising inside you with each passing tick of the clock.

Dropping the formalities and social pleasantries, you watch as another round of shifting eyes passes. You already had an inkling of the answer they’re still hesitating to address. Finally, your former Kshahrewar senior responds for the group.

“We’re worried about you, you haven’t been in contact for a while now.” Kaveh’s voice was low and mellow, you could tell he took extra effort in marking it such.

The same low and mellow tone he’d speak to you with as he tried to explain your mistakes on an exam, the tone which accompanied the pity in his gaze toward you as he pointed out each miscalculation on your paper. The tone made you ball your fist up on your lap.

“I’m fine, just busy.”

“Please don’t start with that again.” The blond sighs, sympathy still ever-present in his eyes.

“I’m just busy with work, as are all of you, we’re no longer students with minimal responsibilities,” you retort.

The days when a group of friends could gather around a table for hours on end, half bantering and half studying, basking in the Spring warmth streaming in from the grand windows of the House of Daena have long passed.

“We all have busy careers, that’s true, but not to the extent of being a detriment to our health.” With a sigh, Tighnari began his health lecture.

Expounding upon the negative consequences of a poor work-life balance. Shifting your focus instead on tuning out this lecture you didn’t sign up for.

“You stopped listening… of course,” a deep sigh concludes the doctor’s sermon.

Ah, you’ve been found out. The polite smile straining itself upon your lips, legs itching to walk out of this restrictive space.

“Here, it’s a contact of mine, I recommend you give her a call-”

“It’s fine.” You promptly push away the business card just as Tighnari presents it to you, a thread of patience stretched thinly.

“She can help you through-” he continues.

“It’s fine, my research is just busy-”

“This isn’t healthy.”

“It’s my research.” A sharp undertone leaks through your professional demeanor.

“And this is why we’re worried about you!” Kaveh’s patience was the first snap.

Then again, your senior might have been the light of Kshahrewar and a praised genius, but he was never the best at handling his emotional regulation.

“Look around, don’t you see how concerned we are about you? No returned texts or calls and no answers at a doorbell for years, only ever talking about this research. It’s as if you-” he stops himself, rudy eyes meeting with your cold stare.

He knew better than to finish that sentence, you knew that he knew he shouldn’t.

“We’re worried about you, this research… it’s not good for you.” Tighnari interjects, attempting to shift the course of this intervention.

Of course, when the development of an android was announced, there wasn’t just discourse amongst the general public, but debates raged throughout academia as well. How unfortunate it is that friends now stand at polar ends.

“It’s my research,” you reaffirm.

This research was why you got your doctorate, it’s why you have a job, it’s why you have a house. This research has entangled itself into the very fibers of your life. It was where a predetermined path had led you.

The room fills once more with a lull, nothing but deep sighs and ever-shifting eyes. Neither side is able to get through to the other. Typical of most academic debates. Still, it seems they weren’t ready to end the intervention so soon.

“Listen… we’re worried for you, I… I know it’s been very difficult these past years.” Your senior takes a step closer.

That same sympathetic timbre brings a vile taste to your tongue. You stay silent in favor of pushing the bitterness down as it tries to claw its way through your polite façade.

“I… know what it must have been like for you, It’s been hard on all of us. I’ve experienced something similar, so I can tell you-”

“I’m sorry, Kaveh. But tragedies shouldn’t be compared, because they’ll never have a fair comparison.” You end the conversation.

Just like how it isn’t fair to compare stars who were their own centers of gravity with a mere rock at the mercy of an orbital pull to give it direction.

Even when you sat at the same table as them, you were never at the same level as them. Families with academic prestige, minds blessed with wisdom, and the freedom to pursue a self-chosen path. You could only ever look up at what you lacked.

“Your worlds kept on spinning, your lives move on with the change of the season. But not mine, mine stopped long ago.” It’s not fair to compare a rock to a star, from their silence, you assume they knew that too.

“I’m now taking the initiative to make it start again, don’t interfere.” Your valediction to the geniuses whom you couldn’t live up to.

It’s just the nature of this world, geniuses walked their own paths while others took another. Geniuses can’t understand those others, just as others can’t understand geniuses.

This doctor’s appointment has gone on for long enough. Gathering your belongings, you stride past them, eyes refusing to meet.

Your hand pried open the door, pausing just at the threshold as Cyno finally breaks his silence.

“Is this truly what you want? To defy the edicts of finality with research?”

Ah, what an inquiry. Perhaps it’s just like a lawyer to ask such a thing.

“Is my research in violation of any laws in Sumeru?” You refuse to meet his scarlet condemnation.

“As of now, no.”

“Then I don’t see how this involves you, there’s no place for personal biases and mortals in the judicial system.” Crossing the threshold, the door creaks close behind you as hurried steps echo through the sterile hall.

This was a mistake, you should’ve never come here. Your body was fine, your vitals are fine, you’re fine. There wasn’t a point in wasting time here, you needed to leave this place filled with faces offering you condolences. Exiting the narrow hall back into the dim murmurs that fill the waiting room, the last thread of patience starts to splinter.

From the muddled chatter, a bright shrill rang above them all. Interrupting your contemplation as your eyes impulsively search for the source. Even in a sea of passing faces and colors, it didn’t take you long to find it.

A young girl grins a smile with a few gaps as she stretches her arms out to her sides, mimicking an airplane. A young father helpless to his daughter’s giggles, hands secured around her legs as he lets her soar on his shoulders. Next to his side was a giggling mother, watching with amusement and endearment.

A private moment hidden amongst the waiting room, you look away. You should return to the private walls of your house before that thread inevitably breaks. Sliding glass doors part to grant you exit from this suffocating cage.

Like a speck of dust drifting in the breeze, you disappear into the bustling crowd of Sumeru City. The push and pull of strangers further you along your route, even as your mind drifts off.

With modern advancements in aerospace engineering, the chances of a plane crashing have decreased significantly, with recent statistics citing only 1 in about 11 million. A 0.00001% chance, a nonzero chance.

How long ago since the last time you’ve been inside an airport? What were your last memories of an airport? Do you remember?

–----

“Are you sure you can’t come with us?” Your mother’s thumb traced over your hand.

“It’s a bit too late for me to pack, we’re already at the airport, Mom.”

“Don’t you want to visit Fontaine? Didn’t you say they had really advanced things there?” She didn’t let go of your hand.

“I’m busy with my thesis.” You were still in the midst of getting a Ph.D., the very thing they demanded of you.

“But I planned this trip so we could spend time together.” Your mother tried to get you to meet her gaze.

You adverted your eyes. So this is how they spent their recent financial flexibility. With a scholarship and research-assistant salary, you had enough to cover the tuition by yourself, relieving your parents of that burden. But to get that scholarship and salary, you had to pay with your time.

“I’m busy, mom.” You freed your hand from her grasp.

“But-”

“Stop it dear, she’s not going to change her mind.” Your father’s gruff voice stopped your mother.

“There’s no point in trying to change the mind of an ungrateful child.”

You felt the weight of his disappointed stare upon you, a frown formed on your lips as they pressed together. This was a sudden trip announced to you just a few days prior, you didn’t have time to accompany them. But they didn’t seem to care.

Of course they didn’t. Your parents only ever saw the grades, the diplomas, the results. But they never bothered to see the anguish you endured to give it to them.

“Enjoy your trip.” Words barely passed your clenched teeth as you turned around and walked away.

An ungrateful planet ignored the calls from their mother in their first successful act of defiance. Trying to break away from their gravitational pull.

–----

That was your last memory of the airport.

Those were the last memories two parents had of their child.

The child they sacrificed their time, labor, and freedom to build a better life for. Your parent’s last memories were that of an ungrateful child, maybe it was the last scene they thought of as a plane was swallowed by the salty depths.

Humans, defined by their curiosity, will always yearn to reach as high as they can. Tales warning those to never fly too close to the ever-bright star ignored in the pursuit of radiant curiosity. Your parents were no different.

They ever had the chance to travel, too busy trying to provide food in front of you. So when the burdening weight was lifted, naturally they wanted to stretch their wings to see the views they never got to in their youth. They always wanted to touch the sky, to reach for the moon.

There’s a proverb often told to young minds: ‘Shoot for the moon, even if you fall, you can still land on a star’.

This saying is riddled with inaccuracies. The stars are much further away than the serene moon. Beckoning the curious eyes to look at them, for curious hands to yearn for them.

But once the glue on those wings are melted away by selfish rays, what is there to catch them besides the cold unfeeling ocean? Did they sink from the memories of an ungrateful child weighing on them?

You should’ve been on that plane.

The familiar features of your neighborhood come into view, the doors of your house are just ahead. Just hold on, don’t let that thread snap just yet, just a few more steps.

Tighnari had his father and mother working right alongside him at the Bimarstan.

Cyno had regular visits to his adoptive father, and sometimes his adoptive sister Lisa visits too.

Kaveh had reconnected with his mother overseas, now having a few younger half-siblings who jump to greet him every time he visits.

Lives still spinning and warm in the light of their brilliance. What do you have?

A job in a career picked out for you. Paychecks rotting in a bank account with no one to pay back. A spacious and hallow house with no one to reside in its empty walls, only displaying a doctorate you loathed.

A stray rock who lost her stars. Wandering without their gravitational pull in the vacuum of a lonely darkness. Just what do you have?

“Alhaitham,” you call out just as the front door slams behind you.

You could hear his steady steps approaching along the wooden floor, but it’s too slow so your frenzied steps close in the distance between your two forms. The thread gives in and snapping as the recoil proliferates through your body.

Without a greeting, no prompt, or prior warning your grasp wrinkles his once pristine button-down.

The bitter tears you held back now soak into the fabric as even viler cries choke your voice. The shame of displaying such a sight in front of a being whose eyes don’t produce moisture is long abandoned. In the walls of this hallow house, your broken sobs echo off.

He stands still in the middle of the hall, the low hum of his motor resonating in your ears as you hide your face deeper into the synthetic skin of his chest. But that’s fine, the whir of motor is enough of a substitute for a heartbeat.

Alhaitham stands in front of the reflection staring back at him, he had undocked himself from the charging port not too long ago. Tracing over the synthetic material stretched over his imitation of a collarbone as his mind wanders.

There aren’t enough chemicals in tears to make them corrosive, nor were they at the temperature to boil.

So why does it burn?

Trailing his fingertips where your tears soaked onto his skin, recollections of the searing sensation that afflicted the area with each sorrowful drop. Choking sobs which he caused.

He failed to consider all causal factors to assess the situation fully and failed to appraise all possible alternatives. He failed to make the right decision, and he let harm befall you because of it. It’s strange, there’s nothing wrong with his eyes, yet he finds it hard to look in the mirror.

Teal gaze scrutinizes the arms, legs, and body in the reflection. The reflection in front of him had all the identifiable components of a man, but they’re all synthetic.

From the tips of his sliver hair to the vast expanse of his skin, they’re all made from high-quality silicon parts supported by a metal frame. An engineered body with a motor in place of a heart.

Maybe that’s why he failed to make the right decision, he had no heart to weigh in on the ruling.

–-------------------------------------------------------------

The android is faced with a new dilemma.

From the entrance of the kitchen, Alhaitham watches you. A spoon absentmindedly swirling in the cup of coffee on the counter in front of you. Your thoughts wander elsewhere, the rays of a setting sun unable to light up dull spaced-out eyes.

He’s observed your condition for the past week, no hint of improvement.

A new dilemma he must decipher, the urgency rising with each passing second as the spoon continues.

The lull of the evening air was shattered by the sound of a porcelain cup meeting the tiled floor. Jagged pieces and coffee spilled all along the cold surface. Listlessly your eyes move to access the mess on the floor, spoon still grasped in your hand.

“Ah.” That was all your lips could say.

Limbs slowed with lethargy, you crouch down closer to the broken pieces scattered about. Bare hand reaching out to grab the sharp edges unthinkingly. A firm grasp prevents your touch from the ragged porcelain.

“It’s dangerous, I’ll handle it.” Alhaitham brings your hand further away from the hazard.

Your aloof eyes trail past him toward a wall where he could hear a clock tick before they returned to his resolute stare.

“It’s past 5 p.m.”

“A hazard has appeared in the environment, it’s protocol that I clear it.” His rehearsed response.

“Oh… alright.” Limplessness returning to your wrist within his hold, body too lethargic to object.

With you seated at the kitchen table away from the jagged edges that could potentially pierce your skin, Alhaitham begins gathering the pieces. As your aloof eyes wander about the monitor of your laptop, his mind ponders a dilemma.

It’s often said that guilt is held in the heart. In novels and human anecdotes, it's been described to him as a burdensome heaviness that sinks the heart.

A sensation reminiscent of drowning in icy water. A sensation only perceivable through a beating mortal heart.

Alhaitham is an android, he’s aware of this. A being with silicon skin encasing a metal frame. A motor in place of where a mortal heart would be.

So what is this weight burdening his chest?

An internal diagnostic returned no errors and no reports of any damage or unusual occurrence within his systems. Yet, a heaviness brewed deep inside his chest, its mass increasing each sunrise and fall, with every passing moment the riddle was left unanswered.

How could a motor hold guilt? How could the weight of judgment manifest itself in the absence of an organic heart that beats instead of whirs? How could an inorganic object possibly suffer guilt?

All the mora poured into his creation, all the hours of research contributed to his algorithms, and all the texts he’s scanned through were all for naught. The pinnacle of scientific and mechanical development couldn’t solve a simple conundrum.

The floorboard creaks under the weight of his steady strides as he moves about the corridor, the soft swishes of a broom coinciding with each step.

Dust had begun to settle in the crevices of the home, it’s about time that he took up the mantle that was supposed to be his.

Could an explanation of this weight be the backlog of tasks and responsibilities he had pushed off? Chores he ignored in favor of browsing the contents of a library? A burden he selfishly passed onto your shoulders.

Maybe after he completes the tasks that were supposed to be assigned to him he could clear the cache, then this weight in his chest would subside.

The bristles of the broom scratch against a door, the light force setting the frame ajar further. Revealing the dust-coated scene in front of him. A boundary he was restricted from.

Alhaitham concluded that this small corner of the house must hold some sentimental value to you, thus it’s best for him to not disturb it.

Just as he goes to close the door, Alhaitham scans around the environment identifying the shape of a journal tucked away under an old table.

He’s not permitted to enter, but all books belong in the library. Spines sorted along wooden selves, not on a dusty floor.

An exception shall be granted, setting aside the broom, he steps in to collect the neglected book.

While crouching down and gathering the covers into his hold, a different gleam catches his eye. The light reflects off its glass surface and highlights the dust particles dancing in the still air.

With his free hand, he picks it up, teal eyes running along the glass orb. After a moment of processing the object, he successfully identifies it as a toy.

A popular model to display an artificial starry night among blank walls. Alhaitham turns to follow a trail of cut-out stars pasted all along the walls. The soft glow of their plastic shapes subdued by the brilliance of the afternoon sun streaming in.

Were you interested in stars? Glancing out the window, he discerns the murky shapes of buildings in Sumeru City off in the distance.

This house is located in the suburbs away from the noisy clammer of the city streets and traffic. However, where the sound waves couldn’t travel didn’t mean the sky around this quiet neighborhood was uncontaminated by activities in the city.

When the sun retreats away for rest, the city doesn’t follow suit.

Through the power of fluorescent lights in street lamps and office buildings, humans created their own artificial daylight to continue the bustle of their lives. Light which polluted the night sky and stole the radiance away from her stars.

Unable to enjoy the natural tapestry of the night, did you substitute the company of stars with toy imitations?

Turning the orb in his hand, his eyes notice the signs of damage along the projector. Perhaps that’s why it sat abandoned in this room.

He’s stayed in this restricted space long enough. Carefully closing the door behind him, hands still full.

–-------------------------------------------------------------

“I’ve uncovered a strange object, my software isn’t able to identify it.” Alhaitham stands just outside the open office door.

Sparing him a glance away from your monitor, your brows pinched together in confusion at his sudden report during the late hours of the night.

“A strange object?” You inquire again.

“Yes, I’ve scanned over it a few times but no results are returning.”

“Huh…”

Teals watching you press a finger against your pursed lips in concentration. A habit of yours often displayed when amid contemplation. After a few breaths, your eyes meet his as you give your reply.

“Well, where is this object?”

“Come with me.”

Along the wooden floor, two pairs of steps tap rhythmically in time with one another as they traverse the hallway stopping at the living room where the mysterious object resides.

Approaching the coffee table in the center, Alhaitham steps to the side to present it as it sits upon the polished surface.

“This… is what’s been giving your software issues?” The quirk returned to your brow as you cast him a glance.

Alhaitham simply nobs as you approach the object closer. Kneeling beside it, your eyes examine the familiar device.

“It’s a planetarium projector, it projects the scene of a night sky, in other words: just a toy.”

He hums in acknowledgment, carefully treading toward the light switch in the corner as the toy holds the gaze of your eyes.

“It should be thrown away… It’s broken after all.” Your tone dismissive, yet your hand caresses the broken toy with tenderness.

“It’s not,” he replies.

Perking your head up, you turn to face him with that same furrow between your brows.

“What do you mean, Alhaitham-”

He flicks the switch, plunging the room in a blanket of darkness earning a squeak of surprise from you. The device whirs as it awakens, painting the blank tapestry with a scene of the night sky with its shimmering lights.

The vibrant shapes of stars and planets take their place along the living room wall, creating a private galaxy that surrounds you.

Your sentence remains unfinished upon your tongue as your eyes take in the display encompassing you. The nostalgic glimmer of the night and her stars twinkle in the reflection of your irises as he settles down beside you.

“Did… did you fix it?”

He hums in response.

It only took a bit of study and careful tinkering to restore the worn pieces and gears. A simple effort was all it took to allow the projector to shine its recreation of the stars. Returning a light that he hasn’t seen in a while.

“Thank you, Alhaitham,” you breathe out, lips curling up softly and eyes still enraptured by the stars.

He doesn’t respond this time as his teal gaze focuses on your expression, on the smile that’s been missing for some time. It’s strange, this sensation manifesting in his chest. He thought if he was able to restore the light to your eyes, then that heaviness brewed deep inside his chest would clear. But it remained.

His system unable to express nor suppress the heaviness which bubbled up like seafoam rising to the surface.

The sensation was different than it was before. Instead of a mass that weighed him down to the bottom of a cold depth, it was more reminiscent of a warm ebb. Washing over every limb of his as he studied the curvature of your lips and the glimmer of your eyes.

Another internal diagnostic wasn’t necessary, for Alhaitham had reached his epiphany to a conundrum. An engineered body may lack a heart, but not a conscious.

A consciousness that acts like a vessel collecting the accumulation of that heaviness. A heaviness that couldn’t be called ‘guilt’.

No, perhaps it has always been something other than ‘guilt’.

It only took until the vessel overflowed for an engineered body to recognize it for what it truly was.

There’s something strange happening to your Android. Reviewing the diagnostic reports of his systems returned nothing out of the ordinary. So why did you suspect something to be wrong? Perhaps you could call it intuition.

Or perhaps it’s the lack of books strewn about the house. Or the initiation of tasks without a prompt. Or that night a living room was filled with the radiance of tiny dots along empty walls. Something strange is happening.

“Alhaitham, what’s taking you so long in the kitchen?” You poke your head out from the kitchen doorway, sights honing in on your android currently scrutinizing the recipe book in his hands.

Perhaps there’s a defect in the print, if the black ink isn’t contrasting enough with the beige paper, which time has faded, it does cause issues with optical character recognition. Maybe the past splatters of sauces and oils upon the aged book were too much of a hurdle.

“Chef Mao is a renowned cook, but his recipes are vague. He suggests a pinch of salt to enhance the flavor of this dish. I’ve calculated that Chef Mao has a 19.3 cm hand length which entails that his ‘pinches’ measure around 0.356 grams. However, he said to add Jueyun Chili oil until fragrant, I’m still processing the data I’ve collected on his olfactory system, the calculations will take around five minutes.” He turns back to the stove.

“Alhaitham.”

“Yes?”

“Please put down the book and get out of the kitchen.” A bold choice of words from you.

“Was my response unsatisfactory?” His teal eyes land on you.

“It’s just that I’m hungry.”

“This dish should be complete in around 90 minutes accounting for the other-”

“No,” you interrupt.

He studies you for a while, accessing the situation and the unfinished dish still simmering on the stove. After a few breaths, he returns a response.

“Shall I order delivery from Lambad’s Tavern?” His hand switches off the fire.

He conceded. The notoriously stubborn and fickle android conceded to your whims. There was definitely something wrong. You pace into the kitchen, getting close to observe his teal irises for any sign of possible flaws.

“Alhaitham, you’ve been behaving strangely as of late, did you encounter something?”

He returns your gaze, teal reflecting off your irises as you continue to study him, and him you. His silence only amounts to the deepening furrow between your brows as your assessment of his frame fails to identify any impairments.

“Why have you been behaving like this?” You prompt again.

“Have I neglected my responsibilities for so long that fulfilling them has become a cause for concern?” He finally responds.

“Now’s not the time for jests,” you huff.

“From what I’ve reviewed on human behavior, it’s not strange to want to care for the person I love.” A blunt statement.

From the window, the moonlight peeks upon the strange phenomenon occurring. Two bodies remain motionless in a silent lull.

One pair of placate teal eyes and one pair of bewildered eyes too lost in each other to mind the witness intruding on this private moment. Words finally conquer in your brain, ending the quietude.

“Refrain from saying nonsensical words.” Your lips press together into a thin line.

“Do you believe such a thing is beyond my capabilities?”

You couldn’t respond, or more accurately, you simply didn’t know how to. A being without a heart, a being who lacked the necessary chemicals to create the cocktail known as emotions. How is it possible?

“I have no heart, I’m aware. But I have a conscience.” He must’ve deduced the exact thoughts racing through your head.

Your brows only furrow further as you wait for him to continue his explanation.

“Every person should have something that they believe in and hold on to from beginning to end. Otherwise, it's easy to succumb to the vicissitudes of life and find yourself being led astray.” Taking note of the glistening shine beginning to pool in your wide eyes.

“And I believe that I love you.” His sincere gaze never leaves your form.

Not a single sentence is able to form upon your tongue. An expression he couldn’t decipher upon your features. Perhaps his statement was too long-winded, an overly complicated explanation. Maybe a simpler one could convey his message better.

You’re the first to break eye contact, choosing to watch the tiles on the floor over him. He remains firm in his stance, not faltering once as the seconds turn into minutes. Your shoulders rise as your lungs take a deep breath.

“… say that again… please.” Words just barely above a whisper.

He could only bend to your whims.

“I love you.”

Your head lifts up to face him, your hands hesitating momentarily as they cup his cool cheeks, fingers trembling. Something glimmering in your eyes as droplets escape your lashes.

This time, Alhaitham wipes them away before they could trail down your cheeks.

You did it. All those long hours, all those reports and trials, all of these years sacrificed to research. You’ve created a complete human consciousness with your bare hands. One that understands sorrow, joy, and love.

You succeeded.

However, in this moment as you peer into the teal eyes of your Magnum opus, as he reflects the endearment in your own. The notion of reporting this revolutionary milestone in the development of artificial intelligence never crossed your mind once.

Instead, all you did in this moment was pull his face down closer. Closing the distance between the two of you as your lips felt his for the first time. Warm skin against a soft imitation, merging until a lukewarm temperature formed between their touch.

A gentle, yet longing connection of two lips.

Only when your lungs protest for air did you pull away, hands still encompassing his face as he reveals his teal eyes back from behind closed lids. Eyes reflecting one another as a tender lull settles between you. This time, his whisper mingles with the soft intermission.

“Was that a kiss?”

Such an innocent question, one you couldn’t help but giggle at as you nod your head.

“Could you show me again?” His hands found purchase on your hips, beckoning you closer to his frame.

You surrender to the call, pressing against him as your lips reconnect. A rhythm soon settled in place as they pressed into each other deeper. One that was interrupted once more by your lung's protest for oxygen. At a mere kiss, your mind ceased to remember how to breathe.

“Again.” A baritone voice just above the hush of your pants.

And so your lips meet thrice, this time in an all-consuming embrace. A hesitant brush of a tongue against your lips, requesting access. Your hands move up to caress his soft locks as you grant it. Latching onto each other as the shroud consumed you both wholly.

A beautifully feverish delirium. The line in the sand that separated a person from a thing jumbled until the outline disappeared. A singularity, an amorous occurrence.

He releases your lips, the lust in your eyes reflected in his own. Giving a moment for your mind to return to attention as his lips brush away the fading traces of wetness down your cheeks.

“A kitchen isn’t a suitable setting for such an activity,” he whispers next to your ear.

Baritone trailing a line of goosebumps up your neck and you nod in response, burying your face into the crook of his neck which fit you perfectly.

Slowly his hands travel down your hips, awaiting your confirmation for the next step just as you permitted it. In one fluid transition, his arm wraps around the back of your legs, effortlessly lifting you off the ground as your arms envelop his neck.

Steady steps pad along a wooden hallway, the hinges of your bedroom singing their welcome as the two of you advance to a more suitable setting. Depositing you upon cool sheets, fabric wrinkling as your body settles in. The arms still wrapped around his neck pull him closer as this time your legs join in luring him closer to your warmth.

It’s strange, is it possible for his lips to crave yours? The light of the moon reflected off the glossiness coating them. He delves back in as his body hovers over yours, unwilling to be apart from the softness it yearned for.

The soft flesh of your writhing body against his firm hands, feeling up your heated skin he slips under your shirt. Bunching up the fabric as he explores more of the new expanse of skin. A lovely whimper vibrates against his lips at his actions, spurring him to continue.

Tracing over the outline of your bra, his fingers creep under. Kneading the plushness of your breast, feeling your nipple beginning to perk up against his ministration. An itch stretching from the pits of his desire, a curious craving to witness the sight concealed away.

Disjoining your lips as a string of saliva connects them, he pushes your shirt further up. All the while your hands grasp onto the edges of the fabric and push them back down. Bemusing his beryl eyes as they catch how the tips of your ears were aflame, a peculiar display of bashfulness.

Well, a sight he’s witnessed on a few occasions. Such as when you’d leave the shower wrapped in a towel just to cross paths with him. A timidity that gradually faded away as you grew more confident in the privacy restrictions in place, ensuring that the secrets of this home remained in the confines of its walls.

So why is this shyness making its reappearance now?

“Are you uncomfortable anywhere?” His words ghost over the shell of your vulnerable ear.

Causing you to jolt and pull down the edges of your shirt to cover the bottom of your loungewear shorts.

“No, it’s just been a while…” Your sentence trails off, eyes still focusing everywhere but him.

Ah, a mere string of words, yet they tempted something from the depths. An oppressive sentiment, one that made the grip upon your soft flesh grow firmer. He’s yet to have accessed the entirety of your figure, a view still denied to him by your taut shirt, but another entity had.

There was a myriad of questions he could use to interrogate. However, as his teal gaze observe how your teeth lightly tug at the bottom of your plush lips in fidgety. Alhaitham devises a much kinder scheme.

It’s fine, he can overwrite them with his touches.

“What can I do to gain permission?” A question asked as a line of kisses press their way into your fervent skin, goosebumps following each one.

Biting down to muffle the bashful moans into whimpers you burrow your face into the plushness of the pillow. Alhaitham continues to soothe kisses over the fabric of your shirt until they finally reach your quivering hands still stretching the hem.

His hand encloses one of yours, bringing it away from the fabric refuge to press his lips against your knuckle. An action that made you peak back at him, meeting a patient gaze awaiting you.

Another soft press of his lips against your knuckle in silent request, at last, got you to release the hem, allowing him to push the fabric up to expose what was hidden from him. Permitting him to explore the sultry expanses with a wake of kisses, your hand finding reprieve entangling themselves with his.

His free hand slipping behind your back, he unfastens the clasp of your bra with a slight tug, a relatively simple task when you learn how such a contraption works.

His grasp untangles from yours as he pushes the useless articles of clothing off your body, you raise your arms over your head to aid in the process.

He rewards you with another flurry of kisses in the valley of your breast as his large hands encase the softness of your breast. A motion that made your legs pull him closer.

Your touches dance along his frame as well, unable to differentiate the difference between skin and a recreation. More whimpers leave your lips at his actions, prodding something in him to do more. To steal more of those sinful breaths from you, something in his coding thirsting for more.

Sliding his hands back down the curves of your body, he hooks his fingers over the rim of your shorts and panties pulling them down. Glass eyes zeroing in on the glistening thread that linked your panties and slit. Proof of arousal, your body awakening its cardinal impulses.

Could the signals transmitted through his system be classified in the same way?

He wants to investigate further. Moving his face lower to inspect the saturated folds that beckoned him.

Only to be denied by the gates of your knees pressing together, as your body curls up in fortification. Denying him the privilege of satiating his curiosity is like denying a man water in an ocean of sand. Evaluating how your eyes were squeezed together in shame, he had foresaw this.

“Mmm, there seems to be an incongruity, do you want me to stop?” Large hands grasping at your plush thighs, but making no move to part them.

Your head responds with a shake, but your knees still locked together. Your attention centering on him bashfully.

“Then guide me, tell me how to please you,” he proposes hands soothing your tense legs.

Utilizing the skill he had accessed a few moments ago once more, gracing your skin with his lips awaiting your response. The tension in your legs loosens with each kiss, and gradually a fissure forms in the barrier of your defense, knees parting.

However, he doesn’t cross the threshold, no, he restrained himself from indulging too soon. Half-ladden eyes peering up to connect with yours.

“Well, tell me. What do you want me to do?”

A pout makes its appearance on your face, but what could you do? It is your responsibility to shepherd him since the beginning, to have him step over the line dividing an android and man. Best to take on your duty, no?

Parting your legs further, cheeks ablaze and eyes adverted as you allow his teal gaze to absorb the uninterrupted view of your dripping arousal. Your hands aiding as they thwart the urge of your bashful legs’s urge to preserve your dignity.

“Please use your mouth and hands,” you prompt, face pressing deeper into one side of a pillow under his stare.

Alhaitham encroaches closer to your glistening folds, his large hands supporting each one of your thighs. Approaching the details of your honeypot in front of him, concentrating on the little nub which lures him closer. He presses a light peck against the nub as your body flinches.

“Like this?”

Plush lips pressed tightly, you respond with timid shakes.

Returning back, his lips delving deeper this time, an audible pop when he pulls away from your taunted clit. Feeling the muscles tighten in your legs.

“Like that?” Mirth leaked through his baritone words.

Your head shakes with more vigor.

“Then how about this?” This time his tongue takes action, dipping into the center of your honeypot before flicking up at your nub.

You return a restrained moan, teal eyes picking up on the twitch of your folds. It seems that he’s uncovered the proper procedures. Peering up from between your legs at the harsh rises of your chest by rush breaths as your eyes remained sealed behind lashes, he decided to impart some mercy. Taking the initiative to shoulder a bit of your duty.

Retracing his steps, his tongue repeating its previous motions of lapping up the nectar that slipped out from your folds. Always ending each strip up your slit with a flick to your sensitive nub.

Your hands abandon their post in favor of snaring themselves in his ashen trestles as your back begins to arch off the sheets. Thighs beginning to enclose around his head, yet it didn’t deter the vigor in his motions one bit.

If anything, it spurred them on. The added pressure of your legs pulling him against your weeping folds assisted him in his quest. Testing which pattern made your body quiver, calculating the pace of his tongue's flicks made your hips buck up.

Alhaitham takes notice of how your greedy hole seems to be clenching down every time a tongue dipped in, you did request for his mouth and fingers after all.

A finger begins to prod at your entrance, coating itself in the overflowing slick as it traces the puckering entry. Your whines increase in volume as your greed escalates, legs locking around him. Thus, he yields to your neediness, filling your lonely walls with the company of his finger.

Thrusting it in time with his licks as he rubs against the slick muscles. Your back arched off the bed, your fingers grounding themselves in the tangles of his hair as if trying to hold on to a shred of reason.

His interest has been greatly piqued, he wanted to see what it would look like. He wants to see what your expression looks like when you fall into the depths of debauchery. You’d permit him such privileges right? After all, curiosity is what defines the human spirit.

A second finger soon joins in, its thickness stretching and prepping your walls, cultivating your arousal into a rapacious hunger.

Articulate tongue now focused on abusing your clit in the swipes of sweet torture, lips encasing around it to provide some suction. Fingers honing in on relocating the weakness deep within you which made your voice peak and tremble.

He could hear the harshness of your panting breath between each escalating moan, how your walls squeezed and sucked his fingers deeper. Teal gaze never once ceased their evaluation of your face. Making sure to appraise each lewd detail of your impending ecstasy.

It’s impossible to stand at the apex of euphoria forever, no, for gravity will always pull you back down. A pivotal moment in time as the forces tugged down at you as you fell, losing your shame and sanity along the way.

A fall from grace which etches itself in the roll of your eye and vulgar expression, caused by the tempest of pleasure seeps into every fiber of your being as you plummeted down into the ocean of rapture.

The fingers intertwined in his hair pulling his face flushed against your pulsing cunt. Even with your mind fractured by orgasmic bliss your body still reacts to each lap of his tongue as he manages the slick aftermath. Fingers stroking your sweet spot through each contraction of your walls.

“Nng!” A feeble push against his ashen locks, your abused clit crying for a moment of reprieve.

Oh? It seems your consciousness returned faster than he expected. With a resounding pop, he grants your overstimulated nerves a moment to recover. Allowing the traces of your nectar to dribble down his chin. Taking this moment to verify the effectiveness of his scheme.

The air dense with the fragrance of lust, lips red from the abuse of your teeth, mouth agape as your lungs gasp tongue almost lulling out.

An absolutely debauched face, a sight which brought the corners of his lips to curl.

Counting the beads of sweat that lingered on your skin, his rationale urged him to swipe them off to prevent a chill from plaguing you. Withdrawing away from your form he plans his destination to the bath to retrieve a towel, only for a smaller hand to snag him in its hold.

Alhaitham turns back to face you, awaiting your next prompt. However, your bitten lips couldn’t muster up the courage to utter the plea it so desperately wanted. Thus, your eyes connect with his, praying that a slow blink could convey the invocation your voice couldn’t.

Standing there as a few breaths pass, the teal glow of his irises indicates his deduction of what your eyes conveyed. Ah yes, the passionate entanglement experience just a moment before could be classified as ‘foreplay’. The appetizer to the main event.

So your appetite has yet to be satiated, evident from how your thighs pressed against each other in an attempt to quell the ache. How could he leave a task undone?

“Show me what you desire,” he instructs.

Hesitantly, your hands encroach closer to the rim of his slacks. Your every action observed by him. Resting your palms against the outline of a zipper, you glance up to seek confirmation, he grants it.

You undo the button at the top before pulling the zipper down. Allowing for you to shimmy his briefs and slacks down to the floor. Revealing to the world, with the moon as your witness, every intricate detail placed into his engineered body.

It felt so foreign in your hands. Encircling your fingers around his girth, tracing over the bumps of each vein. Amid your admiration, his body overtook yours. Pinning you back against the damp sheets. It seems you were very interested in this feature of his, perhaps it was the cure for the yearning between your writhing legs.

Your legs splayed to either side of his hips, a clear path to your greed. His hand spreads your collected slick along his length. Its bulbous tip presses against your quivering entrance. Meeting your half-lidden eyes, he awaits your permission. Thus, you captured his lips into another kiss, just as the tip breaches the threshold of your entrance.

Finally giving your aching walls the delicious stretch it craved. A moan resonates between connected lips, your eyes beginning to roll back as he sinks deeper and deeper, obscene squelches following each inch.

Thick tip pressed up against the deepest parts of you as he bottoms out, your hands finding refuge along his back. Breaking the lock of your lips, Alhaitham lifts cants his head up to take in the scene under him.

Hovering over your panting form, his body caging you against the wrinkled fabric, feeling your unseemly breaths against his skin. A teal glow reflected in the lust-hazed pools of your eyes.

He understands now, why so many poets lost their minds, trying their whole lives to find the words to chronicle the sight laid out before him along messy sheets.

Under his tense study, your fingers lightly claw at the smooth expanse of his back. A soundless prayer to quell the famine, your gummy walls coaxing around his cock with its embrace.

“Haitham,” you mewl.

Not even the greatest saint could deny your request, he wagers they’d gladly walk through the gates of damnation just for a morsel of you.

Rolling his hips back, he drags his girth along the walls of your greed ensuring that they feel the outline of every vein. Feeling the cool air brush against the slick dripping off his length, only the bulbous tip remained in the clutches of your cunt.

A muffled whine of protest from you interrupted as he sunk back in, accompanied by a filthy squelch.

Robust hands encompass the edges of your waist, he repeats the roll of his hips. Feeling the tightening clutches of your core, croons falling off your tongue with each toing and froing.

What symphonies could he draw from those agape lips of yours?

He wants to witness the sinful hymns of your voice as you are overtaken by the throes of pleasure. Perhaps he should conduct an experiment of his own. Through the raunchy air, a clap pierces the leaden veil, your plush hips pressed flush against his anchored ones, a thrust that seared your nerves and curled your toes.

“Ah!” Moan ripped from your throat.

Yes, that’s the amplitude he wants to discern with his ears.

Continue to sing in that octave. It’s as if pulled by the reins of sin, he finds himself experiencing hunger for the first time, fixating on tearing more of those chants from you. He drew back his hips then forced them back in deeper. A wail followed each rake of his cock, walls accenting each thrust with fluttering clenches. Mewls and whines resonated through the room as his firm grip didn’t slacken with each rock of the bed.

Pace escalating and remorseless, skin clashing against skin, the heat of your writhing body scorching him. But he won’t relent, not until he’s taken what he wanted. Driving you deeper into the creaking mattress, thrusting and filling each crevice of your core. Your soft breast pinned against his solid frame.

Your face pressed into the crook of his neck, legs imprisoned within the confines of his bruising grasp, toes painfully arched in an attempt to distribute the burn of the maddening euphoria firing through each nerve. The moans of his name like a prayer of salvation, a chant for every punishing strike against your deepest weakness. Your fingers now clawing against his durable back for a foothold for your fleeing sanity. You feared that this time, it might not return to you.

Oddly, a voice from the rearmost corner of your mind whispered for you to relinquish it. Trade in rationale, sensibility, and morals for absolute ecstasy. Your teeth had already sunk into the apple, its juices dribbling down the corners of your mouth. Why not swallow it down? Get drunk off the wet claps of skin, the grind of his muscular torso against your stimulated clit, the slams of his girthy cock and thick tip. Why deny yourself from the euphoria robbed from you for so long?

So you concede to its beckoning, swallowing down the last wisp of sanity until it drowned in the maddening abuse of your sweet spot from his pistoning hips. Granting you entry to true pleasure as the knot in your core unravels. Backing arching off the mattress, mending the fibers of your being impossibly close to his. Head thrown back against a ruffled pillow as a long shameless wail erupts from your trembling lips. Lost in the tides of rapture.

Alhaitham’s body stills as his ears digest the beautiful aria of your undoing. Feeling your slick and warm walls contract all around his cock. Milking him for every last speck of gratification he could offer you.

A moment couldn’t be classified as a simple impulse for procreation. No, he believed it went beyond the lust hanging in the air. An indescribable urge to mend your bodies as close as possible, to becoming wholly one with one another. The thump of your heartbeat against the whir of a motor as they merge into a mantra.

Is this why humans crave physical intimacy?

Watching your loose face tremor and your teary eyes roll back. A painting no muse besides you could ever inspire. Leaning down, his lips brush away the glistening trails down your supple cheeks. Coaxing you through the throes of your orgasmic shudders. Until the light of consciousness returns to your half-lidden eyes.

The limitations of the human body expose themselves in the limpness of your limbs, unable muscles unable to budge besides the twitching aftershocks of bliss. Unable to fight against the weight of your eyelids for the first time in a while. You sink into the lull of slumber.

–-------------------------------------------------------------

Somewhere amid the driftless darkness a sensation brushes against your skin. Causing your lashes to pry open just ever so slightly, blurry shapes merging gradually to form the outline of a man. One who’s tendering wiping a soft towel over the sweat drops littering your skin. The soft glow of his emerald gem illuminated the devotion of his crafted face. You wonder where he learned about such practices after the rite of sex. Did he pull it from the Akasha? The internet? Or maybe from a book hidden along the shelves of a private library.

You couldn’t stifle the giggle roused from your musing. Alerting him as his hands halt.

“Did I wake you?” Baritone voice hushed.

Face still pressed into a pillow you shake your head, hair messy and a smile spreading across your soft features.

“Just musing to myself where you learned such things,” you giggle.

“This is typical behavior of lovers from my understanding.” Teal gaze observed the widening of your eyes which reflected him.

Perhaps he made too great of an assumption. Back in the margins of a kitchen, it was only his words. It’s best to get clarification now.

“Are we lovers?” He peers into your irises.

The glow of the gem embedded in his chest spreads its gentle radiance over two figures through the unbuttoned window of his wrinkled button-down. Carving the shape of you and him from the shadows of the silent room. Illuminating how your wide eyes crinkle up with adoration. Fighting against the fatigue of your limbs, you lean up to press your lips against the brilliance of his gem. After the amorous kiss ended, you proceeded to lean your forehead against his.

“You’re my lover, Alhaitham.” Your whisper ghosts over his face.

“Understood.” His foreheads pressing against yours as he accepts his new sentience.

The shape of your delicate fingers fitting into the space between his, intertwining as the moonlight reflects off gold and emerald.

The sky shrouds itself in its evening gown of deep navy and luminous glimmers, all the while a bashful moon covers herself away. Perhaps she hid herself away after she witnessed a sinful scene through a gap in the curtains. A private moment heavy with passion in the air like tender caresses.

“W-wait!” Stammering words just barely leaving your lips before another moan.

Alhaitham pulls his tongue away as he tilts his face to peer up from between your thighs, a trail of slickness connecting his lips and your pussy. The haze of your breathless expression reflected in teal irises.

“I-it’s t-too ah!-” A moan interrupts your protests as your head jolts back, his thumb continuing to circle your swollen clit.

“Much? I know you can take more,” he states before returning his lips to your dripping folds, lapping up each trickle.

He’s analyzed your body, its curves and cervices, each clench of your slick walls, and the pattern of your gasps. Skilled fingers learning the exact rhythm which made your legs tense and toes curl. Diligent tongue knowing where to tease to run shivers up your spine.

“B-but I’ve already c-came!” Your fingers tangle themselves into his tousled locks, a feeble attempt at pushing back the maddening flicks of his tongue and cruel strokes of his thumb that shot up your fried nerves. Report long forgotten under the haze of lust and lewd slurps imbuing the room.

And you can come again. Alhaitham has long picked up on the discrepancy between the words which fell from the same lips as those lewd sounds. Lips who couldn’t be as honest as your heaving and trembling body. Whining and writhing in his firm hold that it’s too much, yet your fingers entangle themselves deep in silver tresses pulling his impatient tongue deeper between your folds.

From the shivers racking through your trembling thighs, he anticipates another orgasm. However, the unholy cries have ceased. Intent eyes glancing up to uncover the causal factor, those naughty plush lips of yours pressing themselves shut. Crueling sealing away those ethereal harmonies from him.

Alas, just a small inconvenience doesn’t deter him. If those lips were the only barrier barring him from the privilege of hearing his deserved moans, then he’d simply make them crumble. Replacing his thumb with his lips, Alhaitham suckles on the swollen nub as your body jerks up.

Grip imprinting his fingers into your skin as they stop your pitiful attempts at locking out from heaven. The heaving of your chest jostling around your perked breast as they meet the cool night air.

His tongue teases and rolls your overstimulated clit around as his lips imprison it, a sweet torture. Your thrashes unable to prevent your head from going under the depths of pleasure. Thighs compressing around his face as they grow taut, hips bucking themselves against his relentless mouth, back lifting off the mattress as your final defenses crumble along with your sanity.

Limpness seeps into your now heavy limbs as your body returns to the mattress, but your eyes haven’t quite returned from seeing the back of your head. Still in the throes of cloud nine as his diligent tongue collects all your leaking nectar. The aftershocks of your orgasm force gasps and whimpers from your quivering lips.

To comfort your abused clit he places a tender kiss against it, a flinch in your hip resulting from the gesture. Alhaitham pulls away, eyes scanning the repercussions of his operation. Your chest steadily rises and falls as panting lungs find air again.

The rush of dopamine, endorphins, and oxytocin gradually disappears behind your drooping eyelids. Lashes slowly fluttering closed.

Glancing at the numbers displayed on a nearby clock, Alhaitham deems tonight a success as well. While the primary purpose of intercourse might be for reproduction, sex has additional benefits. One of them being an orgasm’s ability to decrease stress, resulting in the production of more melatonin. The chemical that’s making you burrow further in your pillow. A tactic he’s learned to exploit these past months. Well, he’s your lover now, it’s within his authorization to do such.

Carefully he slides your panties back up your legs, securing them on your hips as he trails a few touches along your soft skin. Following it up by pulling the covers over your frame, smoothing out a few wrinkles as your chest steadily moves up and down.

Just as he steps one foot away from the bed, a warmth encircles his wrist.

“Aren’t you coming to bed too?”

An artificial body needs no downtime under soft covers. Plush pillows and sheets serve no purpose to him. Yet, it’s a simple request. How could he reject it when it came from your pouting lips?

“In a moment, I need to return to my port first.”

The throes of slumber’s hold creeping upon you as your lashes fight to flutter open. With a soft hum, you release your hold.

His battery percentage was fine, but it was just for system maintenance. It’s strange how unfamiliar a room can feel after spending his nights by your side. Staring at the glass surface of his charging port, he wonders, in the future will there be a way for him to not leave your side even for a moment?

His dilemma remains. He’s got all the characteristics of a human. He’s developed a consciousness, he’s developed empathy, he’s developed love. Is his engineer body the only thing which stood in his way of obtaining humanity?

Is it possible for him to grasp onto humanity with his own mechanical fingers? A soft thud returns him to reality. Observant eyes caught the book that his foot had knocked into. Its worn cover has been lying abandoned on the floor ever since he took it from a dusty room.

Ah, it seems like he’s forgotten a task. Realistically, it won’t make a difference whether the book settles on a shelf tonight or in the morning. However, he never got a chance to read the journal’s contents. Curiosity being his rationale for performing a chore so late at night.

Flipping through the aged parchment, his eyes scan through each neatly written paragraph. Nothing more than a simple collection of ramblings and theoretical reflections typical of a journal.

Yet, something was poking the back of his consciousness, like the warning rattle of a locked door. Beseeching that it remains sealed. His eyes move to the next sentence regardless.

To ignore the pleas of safety to venture closer to the radiance of a star. Isn’t that what it means to be human? Is this what he must do to become one?

To achieve this impossible task, it sounds like you'll need to fool your own heart first. Although it may feel like a trick, self-encouragement may be the most important tool we have.

Alhaitham scans the paragraph again as he contemplates the message neatly written. Something unpleasant roused in his chest, as if those written words had encroached too close to his motor. The urge to frown tugs on his lips.

Not wanting to end the night with a bitter taste just at the edge of his tongue, he flips to another page. Covering that vexatious sentence behind a fresh sheet of aged parchment.

One must act on his own will and deal with anything that appears harmful in his eyes.

It’s quite straightforward advice, humans and androids alike would understand. Yet that strange inkling remained, continuing to brew somewhere from within. A phenomenon he couldn’t pinpoint. Thus, he turns the page yet again.

Every person should have something that they believe in and hold on to from beginning to end. Otherwise, it's easy to succumb to the vicissitudes of life and find yourself being led astray.

He recognizes those words, they’re words he’s recited before you one pivotal sometime ago. Why were they scrawled in some forgotten journal? It seems that he’s identified the name of this phenomenon brewing within him: deja vu.

Yet, his question only remains half-answered. Why were his words here? Who penned them down? The rapid flicks of paper resound off the blank walls as he scrutinizes each sentence, each paragraph, each syntax until he reaches the back cover of the aged journal. Question still remaining half answered.

Who was the author of his words?

His finger runs into a lump along the surface of the back cover, examining it closer, something was folded away just behind a parchment pocket. Soon a loose scrap of paper was felt along his fingertips, a folded-up post-it note of an emerald hue. Unraveling it just slightly, his eyes move along the familiar handwriting.

To the person who’s always meddling through my notes, did my written thoughts entertain you? Dear w-

The emerald scrap crumples in his hold. Deformed paper returns to its place before he snaps the covers closed. There’s no purpose in analyzing its contents, after all, they’re already programmed into him.

It was just now in this moment that Alhaitham had solved the dilemma he was assigned since the moment he awoke in that lab. He’s not a human, he’ll never be a human, he’s an abomination.

In the next moment, he found himself looming over the origin of his dilemma. Artificial teal glow honing in upon the steady breaths from the genesis of abomination. Standing over you as you were cradled in the comfort of slumber and soft sheets.

A pair of taut hands make their way to encircle your frangible neck. It wouldn’t take much, just a mere second to terminate the great sinner who defied mortality, the one who violated the terms of finality and ordinance of the gods.

So this is what you choose to do with the capacity of science and progress in your hands.

Was he just a toy for you? Something to fill the lull of this house for you? Just an experiment for you, but everything to him.

His fingers press into your warm skin, breaths uninterrupted as you remain within the blessing of a dream. Oblivious to the nightmare you’ve created. Or perhaps you were always aware, but choose to reflect back to him the manufactured image of him in those guiltless irises of yours.

Oh, what should he do with the monster sleeping so soundly under him?

His fingers refused to budge, hands disobeying the rationale which commanded them. His grip goes slack, limp for they couldn’t conclude their obligation. They couldn’t, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

It’s not a protocol, nor a restriction coded into him. No, for the laws of morality, this land, and heaven would’ve called for him to be an executioner. To charge the transgressor with the judgment they deserved. But, he couldn’t.

Every fiber of his counterfeit body refused to take the sword. The chains which bind his hands were much mightier than the commandments of gods, the restraints of love.

Thus, he’s nothing more than a prisoner in its hold. Bending to its whims, what else could he do? Removing his hands from your form as you continue to soundly sigh in the embrace of slumber. All he could do was lie down on a soft mattress and stare at the shameless sinner beside him.

A foolishly beloved monster.

Slow steps pad through the quiet halls, floor boards singing a hymn with your leisurely steps. Approaching the end of the hall where the humble library resides, the oak doorway finally framed him in clear view.

“There you are, Alhaitham.” You can’t help but sigh as your features soften.

He stood there with his starlight locks in the morning glow of a brilliant sun amongst the collection of books in the library. Just as he always has been.

Lifting his head away from the pages of the novel in his hand, he acknowledges your presence. He’s been heading here more often recently, right from the moment he leaves his side of the bed.

“Good morning,” he recites, steadfast eyes remaining unreadable.

Well, you suppose obtaining the title of a lover wouldn’t just overwrite the capriciousness of his mind. It’s just in his nature to be this way. This enigmatic lover of yours. Turning your attention to the cover that’s captured his focus.

“Frankenstein?” Your brow quirks up.

“Yes, the 1818 edition.” He closes the cover.

“Mmm, your interest seems quite piqued by that novel.” You wonder if that was the cause behind his frequent bouts of silent contemplation throughout the day.

“I suppose it’s because I’m still deciphering the intentions of this story.”

“That’s it?” A furrow now in your brows, a simple book has gotten the pinnacle of scientific progress stumped?

“Care to elaborate for me?” He turns toward you as your steps approach closer.

Handing over the worn object to your outstretched hand, you analyze each faded corner of the cover. Mind recalling the recollections of the acclaimed revolutionary piece of science fiction. Formulating your answer, you share your conclusions with him.

“The story has several themes, but the central principle is quite defined. To quote a few words from another, scientific progress makes moral progress a necessity; for man’s power is increased, the checks that restrain him from abusing it must be strengthened.”

You reconnect your gaze with him, wondering if your explanation was satisfactory enough. Glancing down between the worn cover and your awaiting eyes, Alhaitham straightens his posture.

“So you knew the moral of this story.” A glint in his glass eyes.

“Well, I’ve read this book before,” you sigh at his inquest.

“Then why didn’t you learn from it?”

At that moment, the proud sun shielded itself away behind a cloak of clouds. Plunging the quiet library into a chill. How strange, why do you feel cold when a brilliant star of your creation stands right next to you?

“Alhaitham, you’re acting strange.” You take a step back as his scrutinizing gaze follows. Unaware of the crumbling edge approaching.

“How much longer will you continue to deceive yourself, wife?”

And that was it. The foundations of this mirage gave away under you, plunging you with much velocity into the depths of an unforgiving ocean. Tides that waited patiently to drag you down under.

Do you remember what happened that day? Do you really remember? The truth floods your being, engulfing every chasm of your mind.

–----

“Did you jump at the opportunity of a trip to avoid mopping the floors?” You glared up at your husband.

“My, how low do you think of me?” He glanced down, a wisp of mirth evident on his lips.

“Well, instead of doing chores, you’d be chaperoning your in-laws around Fontaine. A Poor trade-off in my opinion, dear husband.” A hand firmly placed on your hip in a defiant stance as the murmur of the crowded airport moved around your figures. An ever so mocking tone toward the end.

“A fair assumption, dear wife. However, I’ve taken the initiative to book a tour for your parents, thus they won’t need my assistance. I’ll be free to browse some of the latest ruins and research from the Institute in the meantime.” The ghost of a smirk grew ever so obvious with each word, mirroring your emphasis of titles.

Ah, this was your loss. It seems that your husband had it all planned out as usual when he offered to take your spot on the plane. The perfect excuse to use up some paid time off, while also scoring a trip to satisfy his own whims.

Your shoulders deflating in defeat as a deep sigh leaves you. You rest your head against his chest, the crowds moving around you in the bustling airport.

A private microcosm of him and you as he stands still, shielding you from the push and hustle of travelers trying to reach their terminal in time with his robust frame.

A bright clink of two rings pressed against each other lost in the noise.

“Why can’t you just stay?” You whispered into his shirt.

“How strange, the woman who married me to secure a home and mortgage wants me to stay now.”

You huffed into his in exasperation at him bringing up the origins of your union, an atypical start of a marriage.

His chest moved with a sigh, larger fingers intertwined with yours. The spaces fitted together, as he held them in his tender hold.

“They can’t refund it. If I take your seat and recompensate them, your parents aren’t likely to hold this matter over your head.” His deep voice expounded.

All you did was sigh, because he was right. Of course, he was. A sour taste on your tongue as you recall the interaction with your parents just a moment ago before you ran into the comfort of your husband.

“Besides, it’d be refreshing for me to scribble down some travel logs, it'd be a shame if my wife runs out of material to snoop through.”

“I just like looking at your handwriting,” you tutted, hiding your pout as you turned your face away.

The same excuse you used whenever you copied off his notes in a lecture hall and when your outstretched hand asked for them over a study table.

A silly habit of yours, perhaps in your mind it made sense. If you could read the words of a genius, then maybe you could learn to be like one.

“Of course, of course.” A smirk evident in his voice.

You refused to meet his gaze, cheeks a bit heated from this habit of yours being exposed. You thought you were always careful with returning his journal back where he placed it. Averting your eyes to the bright screens displaying departing flights. A few minutes left before the announcement comes. Your grasp on his hand tightened.

His thumb soothes your skin, leaning down closer to you.

“Besides its advanced technology, Fontaine is also famous for its toymakers. I should pick a few up for our future child, no?”

Blinking you as you glance back up at him. His teal irises reflect you as his expression softens just as yours did.

A room hidden away from the prying eye of nosy parents, its walls decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars. An assortment of items bought in advance for a child in the future. Stemming from whispers while recovering amongst dampen sheets in a room heavy with passion.

Talks of the future, once this troublesome Ph.D. is finished and your position in a lab secured, a discussion of whether a child would inherit more of his traits or yours.

Planned for the future, of course, now's just a bit too busy. However, it didn’t stop you from taking the initiative to furnish a spare room. A chaotic collection of cosmic influences along with an assortment of books meshing together to create an adoring space.

But the soft smile on your lips was still tense. Teal eyes took note of that, pulling you closer amidst this microcosm, a moment so subtle it went unnoticed by the attention of passer-byers.

“It’ll just be for a week,” his voice resonated in his chest. “Then I’ll come back and build that bassinet as my wife wishes.”

Finally, the glimmer he yearned to see returned to your eyes.

“You better, the box has been sitting unopened for a week now,” you huff with a smile.

He only hummed in acknowledgment as the ring of a loudspeaker resounded through the chatter. Announcing the final call for passengers boarding the flight to the Nation of Hydro. Casting a glance toward the terminal, he gave your hand one more squeeze before they reluctantly untangled from one another.

“You should get going now.” Your eyes reflect him.

He hums one last time, turning in the direction of the terminal where your parents were. Just before his tall figure was lost in the sea of passing bodies, your lips couldn’t keep themselves pressed together any longer.

“Haitham!” You called out.

The fluorescent lights reflected off his starlight hair as he turned back around. Connect teal eyes with yours. But not another word left your lips, no they’d simply be drowned out in the clammer of strangers. Besides, it’s just too public to say such words aloud.

Thus, you slowly close your eyes, opening them back up just as steadily with the soft curl of your lips. A motion he reciprocated with a slow blink of his own, a hint of a smile on his stoic lips. A wordless gesture kept a secret between only the two of you, a silent ‘I love you’. It was all you needed to convey this message to each other.

He continued on his path to the terminal as you stood amongst the crowd, watching him fade into the distance.

–----

So how did that moment turn into this? How did a trip that was supposed to only be a week turn into a news report? How did well wishes for a safe trip turn into coworkers and friends approaching you with nothing but sympathy in their words? Those vile, pitied stares directed toward your rigid frame.

You should’ve been the one on that plane.

Only about 1 in about 11 million. A 0.00001% chance, a nonzero chance.

Plans no matter how intricate or detailed, their success all hang on a single thread, one factor unable to be cultivated by human hands: Luck.

Oh how cruel they are, those capricious hands of gods. Not even the leniency of returning to a lonely planet the corpses of their stars. Traces of a beloved star left to sink and disappear in a cold, salty grave. Never to return to the surface.

You and Alhaitham were two simple dots in this world, so why did they target you two? Why steal him from you with their cruel hands? Why steal him and leave you abandoned with nothing but the memory of the warm starlight?

You had so…so much love left inside you. But it went stagnant. Sitting there rotting until it poisoned you, throwing you into feverish delirium. If the gods abandoned you, then you resolved to abandon them right back.

You’ll bring back your star, you’ll defy the edicts of the gods with your bare hands. You’ll sin the same way a god does.

“Casting aside your morals, you allowed the dead to walk again through a sham imitation, congratulations. ” His voice matched one which could only come from an engineered throat.

This was a fool's errand.

For how could a mere human ever be arrogant enough to believe they could best the gods? This was the hindsight you lacked. Perhaps what’s separated you from the gifted and blessed geniuses? Something geniuses knew but you couldn’t see.

The accursed doctorate on the wall meant nothing, you were nothing but a mad fool.

Perhaps, if you were a genius, a true and born genius, you’d know what to do. You’d know how to mend this dilemma. You’d know what to do instead of letting your vision be blurred by imprudent tears as your throat could only choke out,

“I’m sorry.” Words you knew couldn’t turn back the hands of a clock which only knew how to tick forward.

“But now what?” Deep voice unmoved by your wasted words.

You didn’t dare meet his stare, for you feared you’d catch a glimpse of the bitterness behind them as he cursed you deep down in the whir of his motor. You could only stay silent as tears ignited in your eyes, waiting for him to continue with his damnation.

“In a climate like Sumeru’s, it would take approximately 25 years or so for a body to fully decompose, bones reduced to nothing but nutrients for the soil. Silicone alone takes 500 years, a metal frame could take another 500.” He knows now that he’s not a human, he was never meant to be.

He’s a crude replacement. An abomination who’ll remain until the day the night sky flickers out.

“You brought him back, only to condemn him to eventual loneliness. Only to curse ‘me’ to live the next aeons without you”

An irresponsible and shameless villain who disregarded consequences until those consequences came to collect their dues. It’s time that you faced your punishment.

A hand cups around your stiff face, gradually turning your head until you see your reflection along glass irises.

“How will you atone for your sins now? How will you take responsibility for making me fall in love with you?… my very own Dr. Frankenstein.” His voice restrained.

Yes, a story you’ve read before. A lesson unfolded out in front of you, and yet you somehow forgot. Or perhaps, you simply averted your eyes from the moral of the story while simultaneously committing the same transgression. Did you think yourself better than the fictional lunatic?

The atrocity of giving life, only to eventually abandon it, leaving it to watch the stars burn out in a cage of harsh fluorescent lights and white lab coats.

The millions of mora poured into his development, the materials which construct his form, and the proprietary technology which gives him thought. Did you believe even for a moment that the prideful Fontainian Research Institute and the arrogant Kshahrewar Darshan would simply hand over such an investment?

To allow their expenditure to follow you to eternity?

You couldn’t live without him, but now he’ll have to live without you.

Oh, what shall you do now? Oh, what can you do now? Did you even know where to begin? How did the story of Frankenstein end? How would she have written the ending of this scene?

When human rational meets its limits, when its capacity isn’t enough to compute all possible prospects. Humans look towards something that could, technological advancements made to further humanity.

“W-what do I do now?” You prompt, no, you beg.

Watching the rivulets roll down your cheeks, leaving a path of glimmering desperation, he ponders to himself:

When you first proposed this project to the Akademiya and Institute, when you detailed the specifications of his body and face, were they aware of your true intentions?

Rather than this being an experiment to see if an android could cross the threshold of humanity. Maybe those researchers were curious to see how far one could fall in the paroxysm of grief.

You became the perfect test subject to observe.

But now that the curtains were pulled back, what shall you do about the aftermath? There was never a precedent for a transgression of this scale. No holy commandment ever details a rightful punishment for this sin. No historical data he could infer from.

“I don’t know,” he answers you truthfully.

It’s just an untold void like the vacuums of space. No results generated in his mind, leaving the both of you suspended in oblivion. Maybe that was the punishment in itself, stuck in the purgatory of the unknown. Perhaps this was the punishment bestowed upon a foolish sinner.

Upon hearing your sentencing, your knees begin to buckle under the weight of the judgment from above. Resigned grasp clinging to his hand still cradling your face, his engineered frame not budging in the slightest. Voice staggered as only pitiful and broken apologies resonate in a vacant house.

All he could do was wipe those scorching droplets off your cheeks as they seared his skin. Was this feature also programmed into him by your hands? If so, then he muses to himself:

Did the hands who penned down those words also revert into nothing more than a pathetic fool at the mere sight of your tears? Did his chest also grow heavier with each choked sob that left you?

Perhaps the chains which bind his hands tethered yours just the same. A pair of foolish sinners.

Thus, he’s resolved himself to be thrown into the unmerciful clutches of this untold purgatory right alongside you. Even if he’s the only one to remain in the end.

To be human is to be unthignkably foolish after all. As long as he could still hold onto a wisp of you for the inevitable aeons.

It’s fine.

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS.

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hecateslore · 4 months

Text

💌

more of the passive aggressive man child bc I said so, also my requests are open so ask away!!!

You get up Friday morning drowsy as always. Making your coffee, getting ready and making your way to work. Sitting in the parking lot of your office building, your head resting on the steering wheel, you do your regular scheduled breathing exercises. Sometimes anxiety creeps up and says hello for a bit. It’s gloomy and It looks like it’s about to rain.

On the other side of the parking lot Simon gets out of his car, gathering his belongings and heads towards the buildings from the door, checking the emails on his phone and not paying attention to the time on his phone. You lift your head and see Simon heading into the building, eyes narrowing at his large frame. “Guess I could go in.” you grab your bag from the passenger's seat, “but I don’t want to talk to anyone.” you whine aloud.

Simon walked into the building turning all the lights on, checking every room, going over emails on his desktop, not realizing how early he was, which was a first. He went over the schedule, checked who was working the front and who was scheduled to work behind.

He walked into the break room and got coffee started for himself and for whoever else wanted some. It was a quiet morning, he sat and watched the machine brew for 15 minutes, grabbed his mug, poured some for himself and took a packet of sugar.

Linda, one of the older women was first to come in, Usually it was you Simon noticed. You’d always come in first and have your headphones on, sometimes with an adult coloring book, some new book you picked up, crossword puzzles, or you were finishing your makeup (If you wear makeup! If you don’t Ignore.) Simon noticed how quiet you were, very polite, but extremely quiet. Thursday you stayed late to finish the paperwork Simon had requested you fill out, you looked tired, it was only you and him. You had your headphones on of course, refusing to make conversation, you sat and typed away, got up to go to the bathroom and when the clock hit 6:45 you hit the door quicker than Simon could remember, making sure to say goodnight to the security guard out front.

You walked into the front office saying hello and good morning to the two women at the front, you walked to the back and Simon sat on one of the desks conversing with the two older ladies that sat behind you. They were laughing and drinking coffee, chatter dying down as you sat and got yourself situated in your chair, you pulled out your airpods and you could hear someone's heavy footsteps behind you.

Simon appears next to your desk and taps it, he then signals to his ears, “They’re not in.” you say which makes him nod, he began, “I just wanted you to know I appreciate you staying late yesterday.” the statement alone makes you cringe, he behaves as if he didn’t give you a fuck ton of work. “It’s no problem.” you try to wave off any conversation.

“Make sure you put your headphones away.” he pats your shoulder and walks into his office, shutting the door behind him. You let out an annoyed grunt, and shove your headphones into your bag.

Two hours into your shift, four emails from Simon telling you to remember to check your work. Also that you should start signing off on your emails, it’s super unprofessional if you don’t and he wouldn’t want to write you up for a silly little sign off!

An hour before your lunch Simon walked around the office, monitoring your coworkers, Making small talk, you had a chance to slip your headphone out of your ear before Simon could notice. Before you knew it simon pulled up a chair beside you, asked what you were doing.

“Did you get my email?” He sat with his arms crossed. “Yup.” you tapped away at your keyboard, “You missed the date,” he pointed at the screen. Causing a loud sigh to erupt from you. “How have you been lately ?” he asks, watching your fingers move. “Just been working.” you respond as monotone as you can, clearly annoyed. “Can I be transparent with you?” he leans forward, you nod as you move your mouse around, clicking every few seconds.

“You’ve been very lazy with your work these days.” Simon picks up the folder he left earlier on your desk, he flips through it thinking of what to say next. “And maybe it’s something going on at home-” you snap your head to look at him, “Nothing is wrong at home.” he raises his eyebrows, “And I would appreciate it if you would move from my desk, monitoring is fine, hovering isn't.” you go back to typing away at your keyboard, almost slamming the buttons from sheer anger, Simon nods and backs off, he goes back to walking around again and finally goes back into his office.

A notification from your mail icon, another email from Simon,

[email protected]

Subject: Work performance

Maybe I could send you a copy of the employee handbook! I still see your headphones, 2 more strikes and you're out.

With pleasure,

S.R.

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rhadamanthes · 1 month

Text

Overtime. Sukuna x reader

word count : 2,4k

warnings : office AU, tits play, desk sex, blowjob, cum eating, biting, fingering, praise, picture taking, breeding kink, cockwarming.

The winter vacation wraps around and you're the only one at the office or... this is what you thought. Sukuna, your most gruffy co-worker is here too. You're not really surprised, the whole office is away in their family and him. Well, he doesn't really look like a family kind of guy. In your case you simply don't want to see your family and these weeks where everybody is away are very slow so it's a vacation itself. For the three years that you worked here you've been doing this, but you were always alone... When you came in and Sukuna was sitting on his desk you froze. He glanced at you before returning his focus to his monitor. You made your way to your desk, which is right next to his and you greeted him lightly. He didn't answer back of course, why would he ? You sheepishly sat next to him, scared to make any noise that would get on his nerves.

The morning rolls around without a word being exchanged, the area is filled with keyboard and mouse noises, it feels awkward to the point you apologized when your pen fell on the ground interrupting the silence. He let out another sigh not even bothering looking your way. You drowned in embarrassment and resumed your task. When lunch break comes you decide to take matters in your hands. You can not possibly spend a week with him in complete awkward silence.

"Sukuna, do you want to have lunch with me? I mean since there's only us and there's this new place i want to try, so feel free to join, i mean if you want to of course i'm not forcing you or anything" you say laughing nervously. Thinking about it, it's probably the longest sentence you ever said to him, he must think you stupid stumbling over your words like that. Without a word he got up and put his coat on. Well at least you tried. Laying back in your chair defeated when his voice interrupts you.

"So are you getting up or do you expect me to deliver your food?" His voice is deep, and he's looking at you now, the shade of his eyes is so unique you want to get lost in it, but he words hit you now. Is that a yes? Did he actually agree? You instantly rise from your seat grabbing your purse and coat rushing to the elevator.

To no one's surprise you did most of the talking during lunch, he actively listened and answered from time to time. You learned he has a cat named Uraume but when you asked for pictures of it he told you he didn't have any in his phone. What type of cat owner does that ? You proudly did a slideshow of your own cat, he told you he was fat and you just shut him off. Once back at the office, the atmosphere is way more light, you can finally relax. Thanks to you working the problem out, the afternoon went fast. At 16:57 you're turning off the computer and packing your things.

"It's 3 minutes early," his deep voice warns. You scoff "Sue me please" When you walk past him you notice his monitor already turned off. He was playing on his phone.

"Oh you're scandalous, picking on me when you're not even working."

He laughs a bit, a deep gravelly song coming from his chest.You blush thinking that it's attractive before you make your way to the elevator. The two of you are making the long way down to the parking lot. and you engage conversation once again.

"So do you drive here ?"

"Yeah I have a bike"

"Oh that's why your thighs so muscular" you nod your head.

He looks at you curiously,a sly smirk in the corner of his mouth before he raises a helmet, one with a shade visor. Of course he rides a motorbike, for god's sake this man has tattoos all over his face and lord knows elsewhere. Why would he pedal to work every morning? You close your eyes realising that you probably sound like an idiot and a pervert at the same time. The elevator dings saving you from an awkward interaction, you bid your farewell quickly rushing to hide in your car.

The next morning you stand awkwardly in front of the open space, thinking about how embarrassing the whole day is going to be, but you can't back down. You also wonder why he's here, you're dying to ask him. HR asked you to be here during this beat weak because she knows you don't care about this holiday particularly and also because she waiting for some late christmas gift that are to be delivered at the office. Most people would think that this is abuse but you both agreed that she would raise your rate during this week, so easy money. But why would he be here? Is it the same for him ?

"You're blocking the way" Sukuna's deep voice snaps you out of your reverie. You turn around pushing on his (very firm) chest.

"Did you just call me fat ?" you say rushing to your desk, feeling embarrassed to see him again.

You hear him chuckle behind you and your ears get hot. You're sitting at your desk while he slowly unpack his belongings, with a smile on the corner of his lips. You roll your eyes, focusing your attention on your computer. You've been debating with yourself all morning whether to ask him or not about his presence. You steal glances in his way from time to time. Until he finally snaps, dragging your chair in front of him, encasing your knees with his own.

"Tell me what's wrong before I bite you." he grits through his teeth. You gasp in shock feeling your cheeks heat up. You wonder how his teeth would feel on your flesh, but right now is not the time you're about to have your much wanted answer.

"Why are you here?" "I have a deal with HR but what about you ?" you blurt out feeling stupid saying it out loud.

His eyes squint looking at you "That's what you want to know? This is why you've been fidgeting all morning ?" You nod your head avoiding his gaze.

"Well you're not the only one with a secret deal here" He says with a serious expression letting go of your knees.

Your mouth opens a bit, so this is what it is ? You rack your brain thinking what Sukuna's one could be. And then it clicks.

"Oh my god she asked you to spy on me!! I knew it she doesn't trust me, you know she's really a bitch bec-"

Your sentence is interrupted by Sukuna ripping your shirt open, He gives you a stern look at the fact that you're not wearing a bra and dip his face between your tits he licks and bites at your skin, and you can't help but moan.

"What the hell are you doing?" you say pushing on his head

"You talk too much, and I could see your damn nipples from my fucking seat" Your face heat at his remark, you never bother to wear one when you'e alone at the office, but you not really are this time. Before you can answer he cuts you off.

"Do you want this ?" he says, biting at your skin, never breaking eye contact.

You bite your lip and nod. A wolfish grin spreads across his face as he pushes his head in your chest once again. Sukuna takes one of your tits in his mouth nursing it while he groans. He's kneeling on the floor between your legs and none of it seems real to you. How the broody scary guy is now worshipping you ? It doesn't really matter when you haven't been touched in so long, sure you know how to satisfy yourself but his warm hands on your hips and the flick of his tongue feels amazing at the moment. Locking your legs behind his back you let your head fall backward in pleasure.

Sukuna alternate his sweet torture between both your breasts and you're a moaning mess, eyes shut closed, you grind against the chair. Soon enough you can't take it anymore, needing to touch him too, you break his hold on you.

"Let me suck your cock" you purr out loud. His eyes go wide a bit, but he quickly gets on his feet unbuckling his belt, letting his pants slide off his thighs. It's your turn to kneel before him. The heel you're wearing allows you to be at his crotch level while staying balanced. The bulge in his boxer makes your mouth water, you plant kisses over it, getting rid of the last piece of clothes separating you from the object of your desire. His cock spring free slapping against his lower abdomen, it's already so hard, your lips part in awe. Taking his length in your hand, you stroke it a few times before putting it in your mouth. Sukuna grunts at the warmth of your wet mouth.

"I didn't know you were such a dirty girl" he chuckles, running one of his hands in your hair.

You moan at his words, slobbering all over his cock while you take more and more of his member in your mouth. His girth is impressive and you feel a familiar tingle in your pussy, the situation excites you so much, having sex in your workplace has always been your dream but you never thought it would literally happen at your desk. One of your hands snakes under your tights to touch yourself, you collect arousal from your entrance to rub at your clit.Pleasuring yourself, you moan around his cock, sending vibration to it. Sukuna hiss at the sensation guiding your head even deeper on his dick. You choke a bit propping your free hand on his thigh to warn him.

"Put your fingers inside" he grunt looking at your hand that is buried between your thighs

You happily oblige, curling them in a way you like, you hump against your own hand still wanting to feel your pressure on your clitoris.

"You sure know how to pleasure yourself, huh? little pervert." he taunts.

You nod your head looking him in the eyes. His precum and your drool are mixing on your chin, he's close and you hollow your cheeks to make him crumble faster. He moans behind his teeth and with a few more strokes his seed fills your mouth, you swallow it all to the last drop. You free his cock from the confine of your mouth out of breath. Sukuna let himself fall against the chair laughing off his high, one of his hands arms covering his eyes. Feeling hungrier than ever you straddle him sliding his now limp cock inside of you as you lock your arms behind the headrest. He looks at you with shock in his eyes, you smile at him.

"Don't worry I'll go slow. I want to feel you get hard inside of me." you say in a sweet voice.

He scoffs not believing how dirty you really are, it's the first time for him to be with a woman this deciding. You wanted to suck his cock and now you're riding him. He doesn't hate it, he's just not used to it. He captures your lips with his own, tasting himself on your tongue. You go up and down a few times and can already feel his cock harden inside your cunt. You moan in the kiss boucing on his cock harder and harder. Suddenly Sukuna pushes you off him, spinning you around, placing both your hands flat on the desk. You chuckle knowing where he wants this to go, you hike one of your knees on the desk spreading your holes with your hands.

"You want me like that don't you?" you giggle looking back at him, your cheek is flush against the desk.

He fist himself angrily a few times before entering his whole length inside of you.

"Oh fuck" you moan out loud at the force he did it with.

He wastes no time ramming into you grunting like a beast, his roughness fills your every need and you let your voice fill the space with a loud moan. The desk rocks under his powerful thrust, his cock hits your spongy spot and you feel the pleasure rise inside of you, you didn't cum on your finger wanting to do so on his cock.

"I'm going to fill your cunt this time" he grunts

"Please Sukuna, Yes!" you cry mouth wide open

His grip on your hips keeps you in place as he never slows down his pace, you can only take and take while he pistons inside of you.

" S-sukuna" you stutter, feeling your orgasm approaching.

He slows his pace giving hard thrusts to fuck you as far as possible, you cum undone shaking over your desk. Your walls tighten around him and he hiss fucking into you until he cums deep inside of you. Both your heavy breaths fill the silence, Sukuna slowly pulls out of you grunting at the sight of his spunk leaking out of your pussy to the desk and finally on the floor. Quickly taking his phone from the pocket of his pants he snaps a picture the clicking noise makes you open your eyes.

"Hey!" you scold him "Send it to me" you whisper. A deep laugh escapes him and he sits back down on the chair easing you on his cock. you furrow your brows not ready for another round yet but he shuts you off.

"Just keeping it warm" he wink at you. You chuckle letting your head rest on his shoulder and you close your eyes. After a moment Sukuna breaks the silence.

"I want to try something new" he state

"You can fuck my ass later i just need to rest a bit" you mutter agaisnt his skin

"I was talking about lunch" he coos

You're way too tired to feel the shame take over you so you just laugh.

"I can't exactly go out since you ripped my shirt" you bite his skin

"I'll go buy you one, get cleaned up, i'll bring food too" he says spanking your ass.

You laugh, haven't even noticed lunch break has ended more than an hour ago.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #sukuna x reader #anime smut #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna #smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sukuna #jjk x you #ryomen sukuna smut #sukuna x you #jjk #jjk season 2 #jujustsu kaisen x reader smut

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navybrat817 · 10 months

Note

He's wondering when you're gonna stop doing your boring work and do him instead

Of course, he is. 😏

Clocking Out

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky makes it difficult for you to get any work done.

Word Count: Over 1k

Warnings: Established relationship, implied smutty times, Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning)

A/N: Late submission for Week 7 of Hot Bucky Summer for @buckybarnesevents ! Prompt - "Who's this?". ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. But thanks to @rookthorne for the inspiration. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You narrowed your eyes in concentration on your laptop screen, the clicking of your keyboard the only sound in your in-home office. You typically worked with some kind of background noise, whether it be music or even the television at a low volume. It helped the day go by faster. At some point though, Bucky ventured in and shut your playlist off to ask some random question.

"Who's this?" he asked as he shoved his phone in your face and blocked your view of the monitor. "And what is FYP? What the hell does that mean?"

You had to giggle after a moment. Your boyfriend had a habit of interrupting you while you worked to get some form of attention. It happened more times than you could count and you were lucky you got any work done at all when he was home. He told you in passing that after being alone for so long that he wanted to soak up every moment he could with you.

I can't get mad when he puts it that way.

"It means 'For You Page' and I have no clue who that is," you answered, gently pushing his hand away so you could get back to typing. "Why are you on TikTok, old man?"

"Why are you?" he asked, taking a seat on the loveseat near your desk. "Is this what you look at to get inspiration for your smut or whatever it is that you call it?"

"Hey!" you said, pushing away from your desk to turn and face him. "I write stories, thank you very much. Some of them just happen to include smut and there is nothing wrong with that."

Bucky had an all too smug expression on his face when he leaned back against the cushion and widened his massive thighs. He took up almost the entire two-seater sofa with his size. The gorgeous bastard finished up his workout earlier and didn't bother getting fully dressed after his shower. Just a new pair of sweatpants and no shirt, his long hair still slightly damp and daring you to run his fingers through it.

Showing off his broad torso like a harlot.

"Sorry. You're right. You do tell stories and they are wonderful," he said, holding up his hands on surrender. His steel blue eyes had a hint of playfulness as he nodded to your laptop. "You almost done with your 'porn with plot' or should I come back later?"

You rolled your eyes as you spun away from him and pulled yourself back to your desk. "You're impossible. Turn my music back on and go back to watching TikTok videos."

"Or you could take a break and ride me," he suggested so casually your fingers froze on the keyboard. "Give you the motivation you need to finish."

With a defiant lift of your chin, you went back to typing. You did like his idea and it wouldn't be the first time you stopped writing to have Bucky pull an orgasm or two from you. The only reason you got a bigger desk was so he could fit under it. The image of him nearly getting stuck under your old desk brought a smile to your face.

It also caused a tingling sensation between your legs when you remembered just how deep he stabbed his tongue into your aching pussy.

"You can't ignore me, doll. Look at you. Already distracted and shifting in your chair," he said, his voice low. He knew exactly how it affected you. "So get over here."

Nope. His thick cock can wait for me to take a ride.

"Bet you're not even working," he accused. It wasn't true. There were words on the screen. "You're typing just to look busy when we both know you're getting your seat wet through your clothes."

"Don't you have work to do yourself?" you asked incredulously, refusing to look over at him. If you did, you'd go right to him and he'd win. Both of you would win, but that wasn't the point. He cut into your work time when you couldn't cut into his.

It's not like I can show up in the middle of a mission and demand to suck his cock.

"If by 'work' you mean your delicious cunt, yeah. I have a lot of work to do," he said. The unsubtle man he was, you knew he was about two seconds away from taking himself out and stroking his perfect cock. Anyone who said perfection didn't exist hadn't slept with Bucky Barnes. "I'll do overtime and you can pay me in orgasms."

Your head fell back against your chair with a groan. "Where is your off switch?"

"No off switch around you, doll. Only an on switch. You're lucky I don't knock stuff off the end tables since I'm practically a walking hard-on around you."

The sincerity in his statement had you beaming and laughing all at once. You wondered if something in the serum sent his libido into overdrive or if it was you who brought that side of him out. It did wonders for your self-esteem because no matter how you looked, he gazed at you as if you were the most beautiful creature to grace this planet.

A small break wouldn't hurt.

"If I step away for a few minutes," you began as you stared at the ceiling. "You have to transcribe the next few paragraphs for me so I can lay down and recover."

"Deal," he said, leaning over and gripping the chair handle to turn you toward him. "But I'm warning you. If you dirty talk, I'm gonna get hard all over again and we'll be right back where we started."

"It can't be any worse than the time you had me in your lap," you said as you lifted your head. He couldn't stop himself from running his hands along your body or kissing your neck. And that was before he had you warm his cock. "Don't look so smug. You owe me an orgasm."

"Yes, ma'am," he smirked.

Lucky for you, Bucky always delivered on his promises.

We can't resist Bucky, can we? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x female!reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan #biteofcherry #hotbuckysummer2023

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ghostlywhiskey · 8 months

Text

John Price - Hell on Earth - Part 1

Pairing: Lawyer!John Price x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2,427 Warnings: None Summary: Your a paralegal at a law firm and John Price is a top attorney - but makes everyone's life a living hell. And it only gets worse when he decides to make you his primary paralegal. Notes: Going based of this prompt/blurb I wrote. There will 100% be more parts - you think I'm gonna have lawyer!price and not have smut at some point? Absolutely not. Also let the record show, I did not proofread teehee<3 ▸read part two here ▸find my masterlist here

The phone sat snug between your ear and shoulder as the contents of your bag were shifted around with one hand, the other holding a coffee. Where is the damn keycard? Your thoughts block out whatever Morgan was saying on the other end of the phone. As you push through the revolving door, the keycard finds a spot between your fingers as you say good morning to the guard and head for the elevator.

“Morgan.” The name coming out of you is rather monotone as you try to grab your friend's attention from her ongoing rant. “Morgan, take a breath would you?” Eyes looking at the lights above the elevators to make note of which one you would be getting into.

“I can’t take a breath! Who goes on five dates with someone and just poof! Hey, I don’t want a relationship?” her voice belted through the phone loud enough that you would think your phone had the speaker option selected. The sudden exclamation in her voice causes you to pull the phone from your ear, eyes glancing to see multiple emails come in from Price about various different cases that had been transferred to you in the past three weeks.

“Son of a bitch.” you mutter as you stand in the elevator, scrolling through twenty new emails, all delivered at 8AM. He fucking prepared them to be auto-sent. Is he fucking kidding?

“Hey, are you there?” Morgan’s voice echoes through the phone, quickly putting it to your ear.

“Sorry, work is already chaotic. Can I call you later? Or maybe drinks after work?” voice apologetic, but your anxiety is already focusing on what needs to get done for the day.

As you push through the doors of the firm, ‘good mornings’ are thrown around from your coworkers as you make your way to your cubicle. The door to his office is wide open, the lack of yelling and aggressive taps on the keyboard nowhere to be heard - He isn’t in yet, thank fuck.

Your bag drops onto the desk along with your coffee next to it, body dropping into the chair as you stare at the black screen. Eight hours to go. Hand grasping the mouse, you give it a shake as the dual monitors come to life and type your login quickly. The inbox rapidly catches up to what your phone already knows - 127 messages. Twenty of them are Price’s alone from this morning.

Monday, August 7, 2023 - 8:00 AM

Subject: K. Laswell - Deposition of Our Client

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Good Morning,

What is the status of getting the deposition set up? Why is no one agreeing? Call them and get answers. Tired of the emails flooding my inbox.

Very truly yours,

John Price, Esq.

Monday, August 7, 2023 - 8:00 AM

Subject: S. Riley - Motion to Compel Discovery

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Good Morning,

Prepare the exhibits for A to H. They are in the file under the exhibits folder for the motion. Want it filed today - discovery has been outstanding for over a year. No more good faith letters.

I want to see the final version before it is filed.

Very truly yours,

John Price, Esq.

Monday, August 7, 2023 - 8:00 AM

Subject: J. McTavish - Search Case Law

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Good Morning,

I don’t have time to look into this today - find me relevant cases that can be applied to the file. Preferably by tomorrow morning, get as specific as you can. Opposition is due 3 weeks from now and I’d rather not be stressing about it when it is due the week before the motion. Any questions, ask Mary. Thanks.

Very truly yours,

John Price, Esq.

Monday, August 7, 2023 - 8:00 AM

Subject: K. Garrick - CASE DISMISSED

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Good Morning Patrick,

No need to apologize, I hope the family is well. Glad we were able to resolve this.

Looping my paralegal in. She will provide you the document signed on behalf of me and have it to you by the end of the day.

Very truly yours,

John Price, Esq.

“I hope the family is well.” the mumble from your lips is a mocking one, as if that prick ever wishes anyone well. God forbid he ever wrote thank you instead while signing off on an email. The few emails are just the start of the tasks for the day. Happy Monday.

One more email catches your eye before you go to start from the bottom of where you left off the other day answering people. One email not sent exactly at 8 AM.

Monday, August 7, 2023 - 8:02 AM

Subject: Meeting about cases

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Morning,

When I’m in the office later we need to discuss more cases you are getting reassigned to. Let me know when you are free today. I’ll be in around 12 after court.

John

Get Outlook for IOS

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

And by the time the clock hits 12, you’ve barely made it through half of the emails. Completely zoning out as you chew on a pen cap, you scroll through the case law your searching for one of Price’s tasks - saving various memorandums into the file and your own notes on a word document. The sound of your desktop messenger goes off, the paralegal chat receiving a message from the firm secretary: Price is in.

Another paralegal, Ava, quickly sent a reply: Prayers up. Headphones in before the yelling in his office starts.

Fingers quickly typing your own response, you send yours: Fingers crossed today’s the day I can get fired and just collect unemployment instead.

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly, closing the chat before Price would make his way to his office by your desk. Better off he didn’t see the alerts of his presence or everyones personal feelings about him. The sound of his shoes clicking against the floor caused your head to peek over your desktop setup, his phone already held up to his ear as he angrily spoke on the phone.

“Well, the judge doesn’t know his fucking ass from his elbow.” his eyes glanced over at you as he walked by, his hand holding up five fingers as he mouthed ‘five minutes’ to you.

So, you didn’t do anything for the next five minutes besides watch the clock on your computer. By the time four minutes hit, you stood up from the desk and stood outside his closed door. And right as five minutes hit, the door swung open and his breath caught in his throat as he was prepared to shout your name but saw you standing right there.

“Glad to see you can count.” he opted to say instead, turning to walk back towards his desk. “Door shut.” You nodded at his demand, closing the door and walking to stand at the front of his desk.

“Is the Laswell deposition set up?” he asked.

“Calendered for January 18th.”

“Exhibits on Riley…finished?” Another question as he scrolled through his emails.

“Prepared for your review.” The response leaving your lips quickly. “Document signed on Garrick. Still working on the case law for McTavish. And anything else you emailed me about.” You decided to finish off responses to any more questions he might have. He glanced up from his laptop, nodding.

“So, that leaves us with case reassignments.” Price stated and you simply nodded to acknowledge his comment. “Any file that Kelsey had with me is getting reassigned to you.” You knew Kelsey, she was a capable paralegal, she was Price’s go-to paralegal. Well, heavy emphasis on the ‘was’. She had quit the other week. Rumors spread, but the consensus seemed to be that Price might have driven her to a mental break.

Your brain did the math quickly - that would leave you hitting around over 250 files altogether. And before you could voice your concern, Price spoke again. “You’ll become my primary paralegal. Any case you have with another attorney is going to get reassigned to someone else.” Slight relief washed over you. At least that knocked your case load down a bit, but that still left you under Price’s reign of terror. Reporting to him about everything.

How soon am I gonna have a mental break? Your brain echoed, but again, you just nodded in response to what he just said. “Have you lost your voice?” He raised a brow. Quickly you shook your head ‘no’.

“No, sir. Understood. I’ll draft memos on any file I have getting transferred to someone else so they know the status.” You spoke, looking down at him as he sat at his desk.

“Good, get back to work.” was all he said, nodding towards his door. And with that, you hurriedly exited his office before he could mention anything else.

Once you sat down at your desk, you opened the paralegal chat.

Guess who is the new Kelsey :))

The hours this day seemed to drag. And for what felt like the hundredth time that day, your eyes glanced at the clock.

7:03 PM.

You let out a frustrated sigh, keeping it quiet. Anything you wanted to actually get done today for the most part didn’t, as you were handling forest fire after forest fire that Price would email about. But at this rate, you felt defeated. Not even a full 24 hours as his designated paralegal and you were one step away from a mental break of your own.

Price was long gone from the office. Every other paralegal was also gone at this rate, vanishing at 5 PM on the dot. The only other presence was the office cleaning lady who came in everyday. She came over to your desk, smiling at you as a greeting before she grabbed your trash can to dump the contents into her larger bin she pushed around. “Isn’t it late, love?” her voice soft and you smiled sadly at her.

“I guess it is.” you said, glancing back at your screen. The lady glanced at your computer screen and then her eyes went to Price’s door, reading his name on the door. And it was like something clicked.

“Oh, does Mr. Price, have you staying late?” she asked, voice laced with pity it sounded like. How did she know? And it was like she read your mind. “That blonde girl….hm, Kelsey!” she exclaimed as she remembered the name. “She was always staying later for that man.” The older lady spoke and you huffed.

“Yeah, Mr. Price.” you mumbled, reaching over to shut your laptop off. There was no way you were doing anything else tonight - besides burying yourself under your bed covers.

“Well, have a good night.” The lady said, walking away as she continued to empty trash cans throughout the office.

And by the time you were home, it felt like a chore to put yourself in the shower. But the water hitting your back acts as a cleanser of any stress of the day. Why was he such a prick? The inflated ego was understandable stemming from the fact he was a successful attorney. But, what was the point of treating everyone around you like shit? If he had a wife, you felt terrible for her. Though you never did notice a wedding ring, honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he took it off when he wasn’t around her. And if he wasn’t married, then you figured he was probably single and alone, because who the fuck would deal with that?

Two Months Later

If hell was on earth, it was right here in this very office. At your desk. Working directly for John Price.

The past two months felt like you were running a treadmill that wouldn’t stop and the only way to get off would be to stop running and just let the damn thing fling you into the wall. At least there was paid overtime, or you genuinely would have been on the next train to the unemployment line. But once again, the clock read 6:30 PM for the third time this week. The music from Price’s office blasting as his door had been shut the past four hours. First the sounds of him screaming on the phone, the next two hours followed by a conference call where you were almost positive you heard another attorney start crying and the past hour had been strictly music. You weren’t sure what to expect from his music taste, but the array of Mötley Crüe, Rolling Stones, Slipknot and a bunch of others you couldn’t even begin to name was driving you to the point of losing your mind.

Your body only jumped slightly in your seat when the door to his office abruptly opened, the music pouring into the rest of the empty office. But your eyes focused on Price as you made note of his appearance. In your months working here, nothing about him was ever disheveled. Every button done, tie aligning perfectly with the buttons on his shirt, his hair gel holding every hair on his head in place. Except right now, he looked like he actually just ran on a treadmill as opposed to you who had just felt like you had been on one. The first two buttons of his shirt undone and his tie sprawled on the desk in his office along with his suit jacket that hung off the back of his own chair. His face was slightly red and the gel in his hair looked like it lost his hold and as if his fingers had run through it.

The way his eyes locked on you made your body tense. It made you feel like you were in the wrong for still being in the office. “You’re still here?” he questioned, slightly caught off guard by your presence.

You hesitated for a minute, fingers on the keyboard coming to a stop as you looked at him. Well obviously I’m still fucking here. And the tiredness of the day hitting you, that you couldn’t help but reply with an attitude. “Well, unless I’m a ghost then yes, I’m still here.” The emphasis on the ‘still’ was strong. But your tone didn’t even seem to strike him like you thought it would, he just cleared his throat and nodded.

“I’m stepping out to grab something for dinner quickly. See you tomorrow if you’re gone by the time I’m back.” was all he left you with as he left the office. His demeanor and lack of response to your attitude caught you off guard as you stared blankly at your screen as he left the office. What the fuck is wrong with him?

#john price x reader #john price x you #john price #captain john price #john price x female reader #lawyer!price #captain price #john price cod #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #call of duty #john price x y/n #captain john price x female reader #finally i write the first part for lawyer price the day has come

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seungkw1 · 3 months

Text

the truth is out there — csc

♡ pairing: choi seungcheol x gn!reader ♡ theme: x-files au ♡ wc: 8.2k ♡ warnings: none ♡ a/n: started rewatching the x-files recently and the idea of this popped into my head so i simply had to write it!! also, y/ln refers to ‘your last name’ bc ya know. agent stuff.

‧₊˚✩彡 moodboard by @myhimbomingi ‧₊˚✩彡

When you joined the FBI you didn’t expect to end up working in the basement with a peculiar agent obsessed with all things extraterrestrial, but your new assignment is certainly taking you places you’ve never been before.

10 September 1993 Washington, D.C.

taptaptap

The light knocking on your desk pulls your focus away from the almost-completed report on the screen of your monitor. Most would call report writing the boring part of the job, and while you don’t necessarily disagree your high levels of attentiveness allow you to efficiently plug away at the otherwise mind-numbing task - so, you don’t mind it so much. That is, unless you are interrupted.

“Hey Frenchie, the Bergmeister wants to see you.”

Stifling a sigh, you look up at your bothersome coworker, Soonyoung, who is currently leaning over your desk while eating a sandwich. You grimace as you see the multitude of crumbs he’s managed to drop all over your paperwork in the five seconds he’s been standing there.

“What does he want?” you ask, not bothering to hide your annoyance.

“Didn’t say,” he mumbles through the large bite he just stuffed into his mouth.

The Bergmeister is the inane moniker Soonyoung and his pals call your supervisor, Assistant Director Bergman, behind his back. Frenchie is the irritating nickname nearly half the office now calls you, to your face, due to an unfortunate incident involving French dressing and the light gray pantsuit you chose to wear on your very first day on the job. You figured they’d get tired of it after a few days, but that was several weeks ago at this point - and much to your chagrin it seems to have stuck.

You give Soonyoung a very obviously fake grin to accompany your obviously sarcastic response. “Thank you, Agent Soonyoung - helpful as always.”

Soonyoung winks at you. “For you? Anytime.” You imagine grabbing his sandwich and bopping it on his head.

The muted sounds of landlines ringing, keyboards clacking, and fax machines whirring drift past your ears as you walk steadily to Bergman’s office, maintaining a false air of confidence as to mask your anxiety. You’ve never been called into his office alone in the two months you’ve worked for the FBI - you quickly leaf through your mind for anything you’ve done that could be a potential mistake, but you come up empty handed.

Bergman’s door is ajar - you rap your knuckle against it twice as you step inside. He peers up at you through thick, round lenses.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes, come in, have a seat - and shut the door behind you.”

The heavy door closes with a deep thunk. As you lower yourself into the chair facing the desk you notice you’re joined by a man you’ve never seen before. He says nothing, but looms in the corner of the room, smoking a cigarette.

“I’ll spare you the bullshit, Y/ln,” Bergman starts. He looks more tired than usual. “Have you heard of the bureau’s division known as the ‘x-files’?”

You feel your normally stoic face contort into a confused expression. Whatever you were expecting him to say, it wasn’t that.

“Well, yes, sir… but isn’t that an unofficial department?”

He takes a sip from his styrofoam cup of coffee. “Correct - it’s not official, but I assure you it is very much a ‘functional’ operation.” He all but rolls his eyes at functional.

You shoot a glance at the unintroduced man in the corner, but he remains expressionless. Bergman continues.

“I’m sure by now you’re well aware of the reputation surrounding this subsect and its…proprietor, shall we say.”

You give a single nod. By your second day in the office you’d heard all about the x-files: cases allegedly involving aliens, the supernatural, and all sorts of nonsense you chalked up to pure baloney. You’d also learned of the lone employee who spearheads the whole operation from the bureau basement: Agent Choi. Nobody seems to take him, or it, seriously - so much so that you had begun to doubt if it was even a real department, and if Choi even existed. But apparently, the rumors were true.

“I am not at liberty to discuss the reasons behind this decision,” Bergman tells you, “but all you need to know is that this assignment is significant in nature.”

Assignment?? Surely he doesn’t mean…

“I’m not sure I understand,” you ask hesitantly, “am I-”

“Being assigned to the x-files? Yes.”

Your stomach lurches. You open your mouth to inquire what exactly it is you’ve done wrong, but clearly he anticipated this exact response.

“This is not a punishment - though I certainly know why it might seem that way. But, it’s imperative that we receive reliable insight into the operations of this endeavor.”

You sit there in silence for a few seconds, dumbfounded. “So, you’re asking me to spy on Agent Choi.”

Bergman waves his hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, I know how this sounds. And essentially - yes, you will be our eyes and ears into this otherwise elusive project. Choi will know we’re sending you there to report back to us, but we don’t care. We are confident you will succeed in providing us with useful information.”

You wait for him to go on, to elaborate in any capacity, but apparently he’s finished.

“Alright then, so when do I-”

“Immediately,” Bergman interjects. You purse your lips, trying to hide your displeasure.

“Yes sir,” you reply as respectfully as you can muster.

“Great. We’re counting on you, Y/ln.” You glance once more at the smoking man in the corner, but he remains silent.

“Dismissed.”

You walk out of Bergman’s office, still trying to process what the fuck just happened. You have the misfortune of passing Soonyoung’s desk on the way back to yours - he opens his mouth, clearly about to say something annoying again, but you briskly zoom past him before he can get a word out. You make a beeline for your desk, grabbing only your purse and coffee cup before heading toward the elevator.

X-files, here I come, I fucking guess.

—-

Your eyes take a few seconds to adjust as you step into the dim basement. The elevator doesn’t come down to this level - you spent a good ten minutes trying to locate the correct stairwell that would even bring you here. You make your way through a seemingly endless hallway of dusty filing cabinets, forgotten boxes, and broken computers before you find yourself in front of a nondescript door, not quite shut - the only thing signifying that you’ve arrived at your destination being the makeshift paper name plate with S. Choi written in ink. You raise your fist to knock but before you can do so you hear a voice call out from inside.

“Come in.”

You push the door in, its hinges giving you a high-pitched squeeeeak as it opens. You make a mental note to find some WD-40.

The sad excuse for an office is equally dim-lit as the hallway, but it’s a sight to behold: a desk at the center of the room - neat, but stacked with newspapers and case files, a small lamp lighting up the open file in the desk’s center; a bookshelf nearly reaching the ceiling, overflowing with books on seemingly every topic under the sun; archival boxes stacked as tall as the numerous filing cabinets, which are also topped with more boxes; a massive bulletin board filled with articles and photos; but most notably, pinned the wall, is a poster featuring a flying saucer, accompanied with the text I WANT TO BELIEVE.

In the bizarre room sits a dark-haired man typing at his computer, his back to you.

“I presume you heard me coming,” you state.

“From a mile away,” he replies, still typing.

You wait for him to turn around, say hello, anything - but the clickclack of his keyboard continues.

Several seconds pass, but the man says nothing. Apparently, it’s on you to break the silence.

You sigh under your breath. “I’m Agent Y/ln, I’ve been-”

“Assigned to the x-files to spy on me?” he interrupts, eyes still glued to the monitor.

“They told me you’d know that,” you admit.

The typing stops. Choi turns around, the heavy desk chair giving an unpleasant creak as he leans his elbow over its back, finally facing you. His appearance takes you by surprise: strong eyebrows, plump red lips, soft dark-brown eyes - you weren’t expecting to find such a handsome face attached to the man with a reputation for being a “crazy UFO freak”, in the words of your coworkers. He’s much younger than you anticipated too, around your age - and seemingly so… normal. His eyes do a quick scan of your figure - his expression barely changes, but a quick flash of interest tells you you’re not exactly what he expected either. It is extinguished almost immediately.

“Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be the first time.” His tone is passive, but you detect a hint of somberness in his words. His warm eyes lock onto yours.

“Name’s Choi, but I’m sure you already knew that. You can call me Seungcheol, though.” If it was anyone else, you’d think it was flirtatious in nature - but you can tell that was not his intention.

“Okay. Well, Choi, what exactly am I to do here?”

An eager grin lights up his face. He rises from his chair, grabs a case file off the pile on his desk, and opens it - throwing it back down onto the desk, facing you.

“I’m so glad you asked.”

You quickly skim the details: a series of disappearances in a small town, all teenagers. So far, no bodies have been found. Local law enforcement has compiled a list of suspects, but they don’t seem to have many leads.

“Okay, so we have a potential serial killer.”

Choi shakes his head. “That’s what the local police think. Which seems reasonable, unless you’re familiar with the location.”

You glance back at the file. Spirit Lake, Iowa.

“Never heard of it.”

“It’s a known UFO hotspot. Sightings have been reported for decades, most notably in 1967 when there were three different sightings - one of which was caught on camera by two different witnesses.”

He hands you a stack of old polaroids. You flip through the grainy photographs, which all appear to showcase an ambiguous but distinct saucer-shaped object in the night sky.

You stare at your new partner. “Choi, this could be anything. Most so-called UFO ‘sightings’ are nothing more than aircraft that are very much from Earth.”

“The U.S. Weather Service officially stated that it was a weather balloon, however no weather balloons were launched within 500 miles that day. There were also no flights - civilian or military - on record for the area that night.”

“And have you considered that this could all just be a hoax?”

“Sure, it could be. But what if I told you that in 1967 there were also three recorded disappearances, all coinciding with the UFO sightings?”

He hands you a separate case file on the 1967 disappearances. All of the cases are closed, as the three who went missing eventually turned up again - unable to account for what happened to them, but otherwise unharmed.

You close the file, setting it on the desk. “So let me get this straight: you think these people were all abducted by aliens. And you think the exact same scenario is happening again, this year?”

“There have been three recent UFO sightings in the area reported, and we have three missing teens. It all matches up.”

You stand there in silence, at a loss for words. Guess everyone was right, you think to yourself. The man is insane.

“Okay, let’s say you’re right,” you finally respond. “How exactly are we supposed to contribute here? Looks like they’ve already exhausted all leads. Why the hell do we need to fly out to Iowa?”

Choi gives a knowing smile. “They found the first girl this morning. Alive. Barely remembers anything, but unharmed.”

“And you want to go catch some little green men.”

“Actually, ‘little green men’ is a misconception - known encounters have widely reported extraterrestrials to be gray-skinned and not that much smaller than us. But anyway, more or less - yes, we’ll be in search of evidence that alien life is making contact with humanity.”

You stand there in disbelief. So this is where you’ve ended up - in the basement with a madman on a wild goose chase. As you’re thinking about quitting on the spot, Choi goes back to his computer.

“Anyway I’ll get us booked for the first flight out of here tomorrow morning,” he informs as he resumes his typing. “Want me to pick you up?

“No, that’s quite alright.”

“Suit yourself.”

You wait for him to say something further, but he doesn’t. You turn to leave. As you approach the doorway you hear the creaking of his chair once more. Looking back, Choi is facing you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Agent Y/ln.”

His expression is sincere. You may be stuck with a madman, but at least he’s not a complete asshole.

“Nice to meet you, too.”

You feel Choi’s eyes follow you as you exit the room.

—

11 September 1993 Spirit Lake, Iowa

The gravel driveway crunches loudly as the rental car slows to a stop. Your partner shuts off the ignition and turns to face you, his left hand still resting on the wheel.

“Ready?”

You glare back at him. “You’re acting like this is my first case, Choi. I’ve done this before.”

You open your door and exit the car before he can reply. You’ve barely gotten started on this investigation, but he’s already on your nerves.

You approach the cottage-style house and ring the bell. A disgruntled-looking woman in her 40s opens the door.

“Mrs. Miller? I’m Agent Choi, and this is my partner Agent Y/ln.” You both raise your badges. “We’re here to speak with Alexandra, may we come inside?”

Mrs. Miller practically scowls at you. “She’s already spoken to the cops three times, leave us alone.” The door slams shut in your face.

You and Choi shoot a look at each other. You hear a voice shouting inside, followed by loud arguing. The door reopens to a young girl, high-school age, with jet black dyed hair, heavy eyeliner, and a nose ring.

“Ignore my mom, she’s a huge bitch,” the girl says as she steps outside, slamming the door behind her. She marches past you. “I’ll talk to you, let’s walk.”

Choi raises his eyebrows at you as he turns to follow the girl. You join him.

“You must be Alexandra,” he says to the girl, who is still walking.

“Alex,” she corrects. The girl finally stops, turning around to face you. “Are you going to take me seriously or are you just going to laugh in my face like the cops did?”

“I believe you,” your partner assures her.

The girl turns to you, arms crossed. “I take it you’re the skeptic then?” Before you can respond she continues. “Trust me, I am too. I’ve always heard all the stories growing up about the abductions in this town, but I thought it was all bullshit. But I don’t know how else to explain what happened to me.”

“Can you start from the beginning?” Choi asks.

The girl sighs. “Yeah, sure. I was driving home from my friend Becky’s house, by myself. It was pretty late, like around 9pm. I was on Campbell Road, I had just passed the old schoolhouse. It was dark as shit and nobody else was around. Then suddenly there was this crazy bright light, it was all around me and I couldn’t see anything. I remember slamming on my breaks, but I don’t know what happened after that. I don’t know how long I was out, but I do remember waking up a few times and I swear I was in some like laboratory or something. I was laying down but I couldn’t move - I could just barely make out some figures standing over me. Then, next thing I know I’m walking down the road again, right where I was driving. No fucking clue how I got there. A deputy found me and took me to the hospital. They told me I was gone for six days. I had to talk to the cops like a hundred times, but there was nothing else wrong with me so they sent me home. And now everybody thinks I’m fucking crazy.”

“Nobody believes you, then,” your partner empathizes.

“The cops think I’m lying and that I ran off with my ‘boyfriend’ for a week,” she scoffs. “I don’t even have a boyfriend. But of course that’s what my mom believes now, so now I’m fucking grounded.”

“I’m sorry,” Choi tells her sincerely.

“Do you have any connections to the others who have gone missing?” you ask.

Alex shrugs. “I mean, we all go to school with each other, but I don’t really know them.”

Choi finds a piece of paper and a pen in his jacket pocket and scribbles something on it, then hands it to the girl.

“This is where we’re staying, if you remember anything else give us a call.”

On the drive back, Choi appears to make a wrong turn.

“You were supposed to go left,” you tell him.

He shakes his head. “I want to check out the location where Alex was taken from.”

“Why?” you ask, “There’s nothing there. When they found the car they towed it.”

“Just want to check it out.”

You can tell you’re not going to get any further answers out of him, so you just sit there in silence, listening to whatever is on the local radio playing quietly in the background. Your stomach starts to rumble, so you glance at the clock: 4:54pm. No wonder, you think to yourself. You hadn’t stopped for lunch, so you were well overdue for a meal. You made a mental note to look out for restaurants on the way back.

“There’s the schoolhouse,” Choi points out a few minutes later. “We must be close.”

The sound of static fills the car as the radio cuts out. You fiddle with the knob, trying to find something else, but nothing is coming in. Guess we’re out of range.

Suddenly, the car goes silent as the engine dies. You’ve barely rolled to a stop when your partner jumps out of the car and starts running back the way you came.

“Where the hell are you going??” you shout after him. No response. With a sigh you exit the car as well. You see him standing in the road, looking at the ground. He turns as he hears you coming, pointing down to the road.

“See the tire marks? This must be where Alex hit the brakes.”

You look at the ground to see the black marks, indicating a car had braked abruptly.

“Our car shut off right as we passed this exact spot,” he says excitedly, jogging back to the rental car. As you follow, you hear him trying the ignition a few times, until the car finally turns back on.

“Look,” he commands as you re-enter the passenger seat. He points to the digital clock on the dashboard: 5:11pm. “What time do you have?”

You glance at your watch: 4:56pm.

“Many instances of alien activity result in residual electromagnetic fields. It’s often been reported that those visiting such sites will experience ‘missing time’, a phenomenon we appear to have just experienced.”

The look on his face is energized - borderline excited. You stare back at him, unenthused.

“Choi, just because my watch is wrong doesn’t mean we time traveled.”

“Then why did the car turn off in this exact spot?”

“It’s a machine, cars malfunction sometimes,” you respond, nearly exasperated. “You’re trying to connect dots that aren’t even here.”

“These events happening in tandem indicate that something abnormal is going on here, Y/ln. You’re choosing to ignore substantial evidence.”

“Oh my god,” you mumble, holding your head in your hands.

Choi shifts the car into drive and makes a u-turn. “Let’s get something to eat.”

“That’s the first reasonable thing you’ve said all day.”

He smiles, but says nothing.

On the drive back into town, you subtly watch him out of the corner of your eye. He drives in silence, but you can tell he’s deep in thought - about what, who knows. Despite his ridiculous antics and asinine beliefs, you admit that his passion is oddly inspiring. You find yourself starting to grow fond of your new partner for some strange, inexplicable reason.

You push that thought to the back of your mind.

—

13 September 1993

“Can you hand me the Ramos case file?”

You look around for the requested file, to no avail. You joined Choi in his motel room early in the morning to review case files, which is proving to be incredibly difficult as he is apparently one to haphazardly leave shit all over the room while he is working.

You finally locate the folder and toss it over to him. “You know, this might be easier if the entire place wasn’t an absolute disaster zone.”

“I like to call it organized chaos,” he says proudly.

It has been six days since the second kid, Mark Ramos, disappeared - and Choi is convinced that he’ll be “returned” today, given that Alex was found after the same amount of time. So, much to your displeasure he planned for you two to stake out the location where he was last seen: the parking lot of the gas station corner store where the boy works.

“Wow, that sounds enthralling,” you told him, deeply sarcastically.

As you are wrapping up prepping for the stakeout, the landline on the nightstand rings.

Your partner reaches and grabs the phone, stretching the cord across the room and placing the receiver between his ear and his shoulder as he continues working.

“Choi,” he answers curtly.

You hear a muffled voice on the other end utter a few sentences before he stops what he’s doing. A tired look washes over his face.

“God fucking dammit. Alright, thanks.” He slams the phone back onto the base.

“They just found the kid. We missed it.”

You’re secretly relieved that you don’t have to go sit in a car for hours now, but you keep that to yourself. He’s clearly peeved, and although you’ve never witnessed his bad side you’re discerning enough to know that you don’t want to be on it.

“I’m sorry,” you say finally.

To your surprise, he walks over to the bed - where you’re sitting - and plops down onto it, holding his head in his hands.

You sit there awkwardly in silence for a few moments, not knowing what to do.

“Are you okay?” you finally ask.

Your partner sighs. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just thought we had this one.”

You feel the urge to ask the question that’s been on the back of your mind since you met him, but he seems really dejected - and you don’t want to upset him. Fuck it, you decide.

“Can I ask you something?”

He lifts his head up, resting his chin on his interlaced hands as he looks over at you.

“Sure,” he answers. You find yourself starting to get lost in his big brown eyes, but you force yourself to snap out of it.

“Why are you so obsessed with aliens? I mean - it seems like more than just an interest for you. It seems… personal, almost.”

Choi exhales, closing his eyes. He sits up, leaning back onto his hands, staring into the distance with a sense of sadness in his expression.

“When I was 12, my younger brother and I were very close. We were three years apart, but we had so much in common.

He pauses, lost in thought for a moment. He continues.

“Jinsang and I always shared a bedroom. We had a bunk bed, he slept on the top bunk.” He smiles wistfully. “He loved it up there. Always called himself ‘king of the world’. Even as he got older, he never lost his childlike wonder. He was the definition of pure at heart.”

You listen solemnly. You honestly were expecting some off-the-wall answer from him - you didn’t anticipate that it’d be anything so serious.

“Late one night, I was supposed to be asleep, but I was reading a book under the covers with my flashlight. Suddenly there was a blinding light that filled the room, and a deafeningly loud whirring noise that made me cover my ears. I pulled the blanket off me, but the only thing I could make out was some dark figures standing in the room. I couldn’t see who it was, so I assumed it was my parents. I called out for them, but the figures didn’t move. It was so loud and so bright. I was terrified.

Then - I heard my brother scream. He was screaming for help, but I was paralyzed. Suddenly everything stopped. The light and the sounds disappeared in an instant. I looked where the figures were standing, but nobody was there. I didn’t hear my brother anymore either. I jumped out of bed to check on him - but he wasn’t in his bed. I started to panic. I told myself maybe he had run out of the room, but I knew I didn’t see or hear him climb down. I ran to my parents crying, ‘Jinsang’s gone!’ They searched the house, but he wasn’t there. They searched the neighborhood, thinking he had run away, but he wasn’t anywhere. The police investigation went on for months. They never found him.”

He rests his head back on his hands. You sit there silently, not knowing what to say. Your mind races, trying to process his words: So, he believes his brother was abducted by aliens? He may be strange, but he’s not mentally disturbed, I really don’t believe he would just make something like that up… But what can the explanation be? Is it a false memory created as a trauma response to his brother disappearing?...

“I’m so sorry,” you finally tell him. Without thinking you place your hand on his shoulder - but after a moment you realize how awkward that might be. He’s your assigned work partner - you met him three days ago. But, you feel his tension slightly ease - your touch seems to be relaxing him. Choi lets out a deep exhale and sits up - you quickly drop your hand back to your side. He rests his palms on the bed, just barely grazing your pinky finger. You hold your breath as a spark of electricity rushes through your body - you ignore it.

“Thanks,” he says sincerely. “I know how it sounds to other people. But that’s why I get so invested in these cases. I have to know the truth, Y/ln.”

You sit in silence for a few moments.

“Well,” you finally speak as you get up, returning to the scattered files, “if your theory is correct we have one last chance.”

Choi perks up, a surprised look on his face. He stares at you for a moment, then grins as he processes what you just said. You grin back at him.

“Let’s go catch these sons of bitches.”

— 14 September 1993

Your stakeout plans are back on - this time you’ll be surveilling in the middle of the woods, by the lake, where Mark had disappeared when camping with friends. Choi wakes you unnecessarily early with rapid knocking on your door. You answer in your pajamas, half asleep still. He invites himself into your room as he brushes past you and slams more files on the table. Turning to you earnestly, he begins to recant the game plan.

“Choi,” you interrupt, trying to shut him up. He doesn’t hear you. He rambles on - practically bouncing with excitement.

“Choi,” you repeat, this time louder. He stops, his round eyes animated with enthusiasm.

“Yeah?”

“It’s 6:30 in the morning. We’re staking out the location tonight.”

“And?”

“You could’ve at least let me sleep in til 7.”

“No time to lose!” he says eagerly as he turns back to his work, picking up where he left off. You let him yap for a minute before interrupting him once more.

“Can I at least get some coffee first?”

You head to the nearby shitty diner together, Choi of course working through breakfast. You can tell through his excited state that he’s on edge. This has to go right - it is, according to him, the best chance he’s ever had. You spend the day going over everything, reviewing every last little detail - cooperating with whatever he needs, whether it be tactical or simply supportive. Before you know it the sun starts to go down, and you’re on your way to the middle of fucking nowhere together, to find some aliens.

Choi parks the car on the rocky path near the shore, killing the engine. It’s quiet out here - peaceful. The lake is bigger than you expected, and surprisingly beautiful as it reflects the painted colors of the sun-setting sky.

“Romantic, isn’t it?”

You turn and look at your partner, intending to make some snide remark, but all thoughts in your mind vanish when you see him. The golden tones of the dusk sunrays bring out a beautiful glow in his skin, his brown eyes radiating in the light; you knew he was good-looking, but seeing him this close - he is absolutely stunning.

The logical part of your brain starts setting off alarms - you know you should be feeling uncomfortable in the intimacy of the whole situation (he’s your coworker for gods’ sake!!) but it couldn’t be more opposite. The other part of your brain simply has the urge to lean in and kiss him.

“Mhmm, sure,” you reply, feigning sarcasm, veiling your true feelings.

You chat informally with Choi (“You can call me Seungcheol,” the memory of his words flashes through your mind), conversation flowing naturally as you both talk about whatever comes to mind. You find yourself laughing more often than not, and you find yourself relating to your partner more than you ever anticipated. It’s easy being with him.

Logical brain is absolutely screaming at you right now. There’s no fucking way you can allow yourself to develop feelings for your work partner - you know this.

I’m allowed to like him as a friend, you say to yourself. You’re gonna be working with him for god knows how long, of course you need to get along. But you’re not convinced.

Conversation wanes into the night as darkness falls over the lake. You feel your eyelids grow heavy. Choi notices.

“You can sleep if you want,” he tells you. “I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

“I’m fine,” you assure him. But it’s quiet, dark - and soon you feel yourself beginning to drift off.

VRRROOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

You jolt awake, instantly blinded by the overpowering light surrounding you. A deafening booming noise permeates the air - you don’t know what it is, but it sounds like the rumbling of a thousand jet engines.

You can’t see shit, but you can tell Choi isn’t in the car. You heave open the passenger door, straining to push it open against the rush of wind engulfing the vehicle. Once your eyes adjust somewhat you find your partner about 15 feet away, camera in hand. You look up, but you can’t make out the massive object hovering over the lake - all you can see is five giant blinding spheres of light in the sky.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?” you scream to your partner - but he doesn’t hear you.

Suddenly, everything stops.

The lights, sound, and wind disappear in an instant. Disoriented in the dark, you stumble over to where Choi was standing, but you realize he’s gone - your eyes adjust and you see him sprinting down the lakeshore. In the distance you see another figure, laying on the ground. Choi approaches the figure, kneeling down next to it. You head toward them, but he turns to you and shouts from afar.

“CALL FOR BACKUP!!”

—

The figure on the beach indeed had been the missing boy. The ambulance rushed him to the hospital - but just as the previous two missing kids, he was okay. The next day you and Choi were able to get in and talk to him briefly before being shooed out by the nurse. It was the same story as the others - he didn’t remember anything, but he was completely unharmed.

Three out of three missing people now returned, safe and alive - your business here is done. You can finally get the fuck out of Iowa.

You’re pretty thrilled about leaving, but Choi is ecstatic. You remind him neither of you actually solved anything, but he doesn’t care. He got his photos of whatever the fuck was above the lake that night - it doesn’t answer all of his questions, but nevertheless he got what he came for.

It’s dark by the time you depart from the hospital, driving back to go pack up your things so you can leave first thing in the morning.

Choi parks the car, and you walk back to your rooms. As you approach the motel, he suddenly swings his arm out in front of you to stop you - the door to your room is slightly ajar, the lock broken. Choi draws his gun, and you follow suit. Holding up his fingers, he silently counts down from three. He bursts through the door, sweeping the room. You follow, turning on the light to see the entire room has been utterly ransacked - the contents of your suitcase as well as all the files from your briefcase are strewn everywhere.

Choi pops out of the bathroom. “All clear, but the bathroom window is open - if they were just here, they still might be nearby.” He sprints out of the room, pausing briefly and motioning for you to wait. “You stay here, I’ll sweep the area.” He’s gone in a flash.

You turn around and grimace at the absolute mess left behind by whoever the fuck was here. With a sigh you begin to clean up the mess, starting by gathering all the documents. As you sort through them all to put them back in some sort of order, you note that everything seems to be there. Your personal belongings all seem to be accounted for as well. Whatever they were searching for, they clearly didn’t find it.

Choi reappears in your room, sweating and breathing heavily. He shakes his head in disappointment. “Nobody in sight. Asked the manager if he saw anything suspicious, but he clearly didn’t know shit.”

He removes his suit jacket and throws it on the table before plopping down in the singular chair. He runs his hand through his sweaty hair as he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Anything missing?”

You shake your head. “Not a single thing.”

“Shit,” Choi mumbles under his breath. “They were probably looking for my room.”

You raise your eyebrow at him. “Who-”

He waves his hand at you, interrupting. “Don’t worry about it.”

You are worried about it, but you know he’s not going to elaborate even if pressed.

“Okay. Well, I want to shower and go to sleep, so kindly get the fuck out.” Your tone isn’t angry, you’re just exhausted.

Choi gets up, but instead of leaving he deadbolts the door and returns to his seat.

“Absolutely not, what if they come back? I’ll keep watch.”

You give him the most exasperated look. “Are you shitting me? I don’t need you to keep guard, I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not taking that chance,” he insists as he crosses his arms.

You’re stubborn as hell, but in the short time you’ve known Seungcheol Choi he’s done nothing but give you a run for your money in that department.

You roll your eyes. You’re too tired to argue with him. “Fine, whatever. Just give me some privacy, alright?”

Choi salutes you as he turns his chair around. “Roger that.”

You shower and make your way back to your bed. Choi is still sitting in the chair, facing the locked door, his gun and holster sitting on the table right next to him.

“Are you going to be able to sleep in that chair?” you ask. “Looks uncomfortable.”

Without turning, he replies. “I won’t be sleeping.”

“Seriously? You don’t need to stay up all night just to-”

“I’m not sleeping, Y/ln, it’s not up for debate.”

You stare at the back of his head. Sighing, you pull the covers up and go to turn off the lamp, but you pause.

“Choi?” you call out in a soft voice.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

He turns his head ever so slightly, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Goodnight, Y/ln.”

With a swift click you pull the chain on the lamp, and the room is flooded in darkness. As your eyes adjust, the moonlight seeps in past the closed blinds, and you can just make out Choi’s shadow as he keeps watch. Protecting you.

Within seconds, you are fast asleep.

—

You open your eyes, the bright early morning sun rays peeking in through the window. You lay there, contemplating going back to sleep, when you remember the events of last night. You sit up abruptly to see your partner still in the chair, still facing the door, awake.

“Did you really stay up the whole night?” are the first words out of your mouth.

Choi turns around, his eyes tired but still alert. He nods.

“Did you know you snore in your sleep? Very quietly - it’s cute.”

“Oh, shut up” you grumble as you get out of bed.

Choi rises and grabs his jacket before heading toward the door. “Get ready, we have to be at the airport in an hour.” The door shuts behind him before you can respond with something snarky.

As you make your way to the parked car with your suitcase, you see your partner waiting for you - zoned out in the driver’s seat.

You yank the driver’s side door open, startling him as he nearly jumps out of his seat.

“Absolutely not,” you tell him sternly. “You didn’t sleep at all last night, I’m driving.”

“I’m fine, Y/n.”

You go to yell at him when you pause, realizing he just called you by your first name for the first time. He must be delirious, you think to yourself.

“No, you’re not. And I’d like to make it back home in one piece, thank you.”

“Y/n-”

“Seungcheol Choi get your dumb ass out of the fucking car NOW.”

The expression that washes over his face looks like that of a scolded puppy. He clearly wasn’t expecting you to shout at him.

“Okay, okay! Fine, you win.” He gets out of the car, walking around to the passenger side. As he opens the door he looks at you, trying to conceal the grin spreading across his face, but failing.

“I like you like this. You should yell at me more often.”

You stare at him, exhausted. “You’re insane.”

“So I’ve been told,” he says with a wink as he disappears into the car.

You sigh for what feels like the thousandth time this week. After a few deep breaths, you reluctantly join your partner in the car.

“And since when do you call me by my first name?” you inquire as you turn the ignition. The car engine comes to life with a rumble.

Choi looks at you, his eyelids heavy. He gives you a sleepy smile as you back out of the parking space.

“I told you you can call me Seungcheol,” he reminds you.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

He gives no response, but shrugs, leaning back against the headrest and closing his eyes. You stare at him for a brief moment. His black curls lay unruly against his forehead, brushing against his long eyelashes. A faint shadow graces his jawline - the result of not having shaved today. The top few buttons of his shirt remain undone; he didn’t even bother with a tie. Once again, you find yourself stunned by how handsome he is. You push that thought away as your attention returns to operating the vehicle. You shift gears and pull out of the lot.

“Take a nap, dummy,” you tell him softly.

—

Not five minutes have passed into your drive before the sound of gentle snoring greets your right ear. You glance over to see Choi positively zonked out in the passenger seat. A grin involuntarily appears on your face - he may be a headstrong pain in the ass, but even the toughest agents eventually fall victim to the cursed necessity of sleep.

The “highway” out of town toward the airport is nothing more than a vacant country road. You drive for at least fifteen minutes without seeing a single other car. In the absence of Choi yammering on about some off-kilter conspiracy theory, or recounting a tale of a previous case that seems too fantastical to be true, your mind starts to wander. The events of the past week replay in your head. Unlike your partner you don’t quite believe you saw an alien spaceship, but whatever it was certainly is making you question a lot of things.

Your musings are cut short when Choi suddenly jolts awake, nearly making you jump.

“Jesus, Choi, you scared me.”

He blinks dully a few times, the gears in his head creaking back to life as he tries to reorient himself. After a brief moment of mild panic he regains lucidity, slumping back into his seat with a groan. He yawns as he rubs his eyes.

“Sorry,” he responds drowsily.

“Did you know you snore in your sleep? It’s cute,” you jest, repeating his words from earlier back to him. After a moment, he realizes.

“Fuck off,” he mumbles - but out of the corner of your eye you see him grin.

You turn the radio on low volume, tuning into the rock station the dial was already set on. A few minutes pass without words, the crooning voice of Mick Jagger supplementing the conversation. Suddenly, Choi perks up, looking in the rear view mirror before turning around to peer out the back window. You glance in the mirror to see a dark car in the distance.

“Finally, some sign of life,” you remark. “I was beginning to think we’d entered The Twilight Zone or something.”

Choi says nothing, but you notice the concern on his face. I wish he would stop being so paranoid, you think to yourself. He turns back around but keeps his eye on the mirror. Not even a minute later he snaps his head back to look out the rear window again.

“Shit,” he exclaims, his voice disgruntled.

You look in the mirror again to see the same car, rapidly approaching as it speeds toward you. Your eyes dart forward again, only to see another dark car up ahead - parked in the middle of the two-lane road, creating a blockade.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Choi, can you please enlighten me as to what the fuck is going on,” you ask nervously.

“Fucking SHIT,” he shouts, not elaborating.

“CHOI.”

“Stop the car,” he gripes, his head in his hands.

You apply the brakes, as you couldn’t keep going even if you wanted to. The car ahead is blocking the whole road, and the trees on either side are preventing you from being able to swerve around it.

The car following you parks, also blocking the road behind you. Two men in dark suits emerge from each car and casually surround the rental. One of them, from the car in front, walks over to the passenger side of your rental - he knocks on the glass twice.

“Get out of the car.”

Choi unbuckles his seatbelt, taking his time, before reaching for the door handle. He pulls the latch and opens the door slowly.

“Both of you.”

Your partner turns to you. “Do what they say,” he says quietly.

You follow the mystery man’s orders. It’s early, but the sun already stings your skin as you step out of the car.

You look at the men, trying to get some sense as to who they are, but you’ve never seen any of them before - you presume they would have nothing on themselves that would give any sort of identification anyway. The men’s guns remain in their holsters, but their hands rest on the frames. You don’t doubt that they would shoot you in a heartbeat if you made any funny moves.

“Open the trunk,” the same man orders to neither of you in particular. His tone is stern, but not overly aggressive.

You make eye contact with your partner. He gives you a slight nod.

You take the keys from the ignition and walk to the rear, inserting them in the lock and turning the key. The trunk lid gives a loud clunk as it pops open. The man signals to the two men that came up from behind you - they approach the trunk, pushing you out of the way as they open it. Choi’s hands clench into a fist, but he doesn’t move.

The men carelessly rummage through the trunk’s contents until they find what they were apparently looking for: Choi’s camera bag. The man opens it and pulls out the chunky Nikon, removing its film.

“Hey, be careful with that!” Choi shouts angrily.

Once the other man finishes fishes out the remaining film canisters from the bag, they put the camera back. They signal to the ringleader - he nods. The other men immediately return to their car.

The man in charge claps his hand onto Choi’s shoulder forcefully.

“Thank you, Agents Choi and Y/ln - very much for your cooperation,” he says smugly. Choi shoves the man’s hand off his shoulder, teeth clenched. Without another word, the man heads back to his car.

“You won’t get away with this forever,” Choi shouts after him.

The man keeps walking. He doesn’t even turn his head as he replies mockingly.

“Keep up the good work, Agent Choi.”

You watch the cocky bastard enter the driver’s seat - both cars immediately take off. It was over as quickly as it had begun.

You know Choi is infuriated, but more than anything he looks absolutely dejected. He leans onto the car, his head resting on his arm in defeat.

“Who were those men?” you ask him quietly - but you suspect he doesn’t know either.

He takes a few moments before he lifts his head, resuming his posture. His saddened eyes lock with yours.

“They’re the sons of bitches who make sure nobody knows the truth. Lying to the public, hiding information even from us - destroying all evidence that UFOs exist.”

He lets out a deep sigh. “I really thought I had it this time. Turns out, I was just really fucking stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” you tell him firmly. Softer, you add, “And I’m sorry that I didn’t believe you about… well, everything I guess.”

He laughs softly. “It’s okay, I don’t blame you. I’m the crazy alien guy in the basement, after all.”

He nudges you with his elbow, his voice friendly. “You know, you’re alright Agent Y/ln.”

You smile. “You’re alright too, Seungcheol.”

His face lights up at the sound of his first name. He smiles back at you warmly.

“Now, let’s actually get the fuck out of Iowa,” he says with vigor.

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.”

—

20 September 1993 Washington, D.C.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Have a seat, Agent Y/ln.”

You sit in the sturdy oak chair across from the Assistant Director’s desk. You are, once again, joined by the nameless man - smoking his cigarette silently in the corner of the room.

“I read your report on the Iowa case,” Bergman tells you as he flips through the open file on his desk.

You wait for him to continue.

“It is certainly… of lower quality than your usual work.”

You hide a grimace. “What exactly was the problem with it, sir? I was very thorough.”

He gives you a tired look. “Yes, of course - but the report itself is not what I take issue with. What I take issue with is its contents. I assigned you to the x-files as a voice of reason - to rein in Agent Choi, not perpetuate his outlandish theories.

“With all due respect, sir, I followed standard protocol. My report gives no indication that I agree with Agent Choi’s conviction that what we saw was indeed a UFO, and that the government is responsible for some larger conspiracy - I simply detailed everything that I witnessed in Spirit Lake objectively as I experienced it.”

Bergman sighs before closing the file. “Alright, Agent Y/ln. You do good work. But next time, maybe try to prevent your partner from chasing after little green men.”

“They’re supposedly gray, actually. According to Agent Choi,” you inform him matter-of-factly.

Bergman stares at you, incredulous. He opens his mouth to say something, but gives up. He waves you out of his office.

“Dismissed.”

[to be continued…]

#ren's fics ੈ♡₊˚•.#fic teaser #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fics #svt fics #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #s coups #choi seungcheol #scoups #s coups x reader #scoups x reader #scoups imagines #scoups fics #choi seungcheol x reader

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fetusgooseandjuice · 1 year

Text

Sweet Dreams

Pairing(s): Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Wanda return to their home after a month of hiding out with the avengers and Y/N is struggling with sleeping at night, but everything is okay when she’s in her loves arms.

Word Count: 1,463

Warnings: Nightmares

Second Person POV:

You stood in the doorway of Wanda's office room. She was sat at her desk, and you watched her fingers move against the keyboard keys as she typed.

When Wanda noticed your presence she momentarily shifted her attention away from the screen to look at you, "Oh, hey, detka. I thought you'd be asleep by now. What're you still doing up?" Wanda asked, going back to typing.

Your sock covered feet patted against floor as you entered the room, plopping yourself down on her lap and letting your legs slip through the arms of the chair. You wrapped your arms around Wandas' neck, and rested your head on her shoulder.

Her eyebrows slightly furrowed when you just sat quiet, "What's up, dorogaya? Are you feeling okay?" she questioned, laying one hand on the small of your back while the other clicked around on the monitor with the mouse.

"I was waiting for you to come to bed. I didn't want to fall asleep without you." you explained, inhaling her comforting scent and letting your eyes fall shut.

Wanda glanced down at the time in the bottom corner of the screen, it was nearly eleven o'clock at night. "I'm sorry, darling. I didn't mean to make you wait so long. I just really need to get these mission reports in to Fury, and I lost track of time."

"It's okay, Wands." you lifted your head to press a gentle kiss to her neck in assurance. "Are you almost done?" you asked.

She sighed, "Not really, I've still got a little ways to go. I'm behind on a months worth of mission reports."

A month.

That's how long ago the avengers were forced to lay low for. After confronting a new foe, a full-fledge fight broke out. It all worked out in the end, but they thought it would be best to hide out in a safe house until things calmed down.

Everyone was left on edge, Clint and Wanda especially when their loved ones got caught in the cross-fire. Clint's family was attacked, and Wanda had to save you when you were in trouble as well.

At that point, the avengers mutually agreed that you, and the Barton family needed to tag along for your own safety. Now that things have settled down, everyone returned to the compound a few days ago, you and Wanda to your shared home.

Even though everything was back to normal, you were still a bit shaken up and could only sleep at night when Wanda was there to make you feel safe. That's why you were sat on her lap, clinging to her like a koala as she worked.

You nodded your head with a yawn.

Wanda looked down at you and sent you a sad smile, letting go of the mouse to brush a few stray hairs out of your face, "You're tired, baby girl. Go ahead back to bed, let me just save this and I'll be right there."

You shook your head and tightened your arms around her, "I'm okay, I know you need to finish this. Can I just stay here with you until you're done?" you quietly asked.

"Yeah, of course." she responded. "I'm gonna be a little while, though. Are you sure you're alright with waiting because I can turn it off for the night." Wanda questioned just to make sure.

You nodded your head, "I'm sure. Just wanna be close to you." you said, nuzzling your face into the crook of her neck.

Although it made Wandas' heart flutter, she was sad that now you felt scared to sleep alone at night. She couldn't help but think she could've protected you more when everything happened.

Wanda ran a comforting hand over your back while the other continued to type, "You're alright, detka. Close your eyes and go to sleep, I'll be here the whole time, m'kay?" she spoke softly, pressing a lingering kiss to your hairline. "I love you so much, sweet girl."

"I love you too, Wands." you mumbled, finally letting yourself drift off.

Wanda made sure you fell into a peaceful sleep by continuing to caress your back and occasionally pressing kisses to your head before returning her full attention to her unfinished paperwork.

~~~

Wandas' fingers continued to move swiftly across the keyboard as she typed. You sat on her lap with your head rested in the crook of her neck, sound asleep.

However, your restful state didn't last very long. It was only about an hour later when you let out a quiet whimper. Thinking that you just needed a little bit of comfort, Wanda slipped her hand under your shirt to rub your back.

Though when a few more whimpers followed by some incoherent words escaped your lips, she frowned. She pushed her work to the side for a moment to gently stroke your hair, but as her hand made contact with your head you flinched in your sleep.

Your once incoherent words now became somewhat louder and Wanda was able to make out a few panicked No's and Stop's.

"Shhh, malysh. You're okay, shhh." she tried to sooth you, but you just started to tremble and thrash slightly.

Wanda only decided to wake you up when she felt your tears against the skin of her neck. "Y/N, dorogaya. Wake up for me, darling, come on." she repeated to you.

She knows that you shouldn't wake up someone who's having a nightmare, but Wanda just couldn't bare to see you like this. It hurt her to know that you were hurting even if it wasn't physically.

So she reluctantly hovered her hand just over your temple, red wisps swirled around her fingers as she woke up your body.

Your eyes shot open and your head quickly popped up. Your heart was racing as you looked around the room, the memory of your nightmare still lingering very clearly.

But Wanda was quick to comfort you, "Shhh, detka, shhh. It's okay, you're okay." she spoke softly as she gently guided your head back to lay on her shoulder. "I have you. You're safe. You'll always be safe with me."

You buried your head into her neck as more tears fell from your eyes, but Wanda never let you go. Your hands were gripping the back of her shirt so tightly she thought it might rip, but Wanda couldn't have cared less.

She just wanted you to feel safe in her arms, and you did. You trusted Wanda when she told you that you were safe with her because she would never made you think otherwise.

Wanda continued to whisper sweet, reassuring words into your ears as she let you cry it out, knowing that you would feel at least a little better afterwards.

"I'm sorry." you sniffled as your breathing finally began to regulate.

Wanda furrowed her eyebrows, "For what, sweet girl?"

"For being so clingy." you quietly answered, looking up at her with bloodshot eyes.

She shook her head, running her thumb over your cheek to wipe away a tear, "You don't need to be sorry for that, detka. You're still shaken up, and understandably so."

"Yeah, but I should be able to sleep on my own. And I probably just interrupted your work with my nightmare. I'm sorry." you responded, hiding your face in her neck once again.

"Stop apologizing, moya lyubov'. " Wanda pecked your temple, "You went through something really scary, I understand that. I don't care how clingy you might think you're being, if it makes you feel even just a little bit better then i'll hold you for as long as you want me to, okay?" she spoke softly in your ear.

You looked up at Wanda only to find her already looking down at you with loving eyes, "Okay." you agreed.

"Good." she responded, "I can finish my work tomorrow so let's head up to bed now, yeah? We'll be more comfortable there." she suggested, starting to get up when you whined.

You shook your head, "I don't feel like moving." you pouted.

"Who said anything about you having to move?" she said with a playful frown on her face as she stood to her feet, picking you up with her.

You let out a small shriek, quickly hooking your legs around her torso to hold on. You and Wanda giggled as she made her way to your shared bedroom, letting you both flop down onto the bed.

Wanda pulled you into her arms just as she promised and let your head rest on her chest. You talked quietly for a while to let yourself lull back to sleep, and when you did it made Wandas' heart flutter.

She gazed down at you with a small smile, "Sweet dreams, dorogaya."

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x reader #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda maximov #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda x fem!reader

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dfortrafalgar · 1 month

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I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But sometimes, you just need a little bit of love... and a little bit of science.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.

Chapter 26

[Prev] [Next]

Your fingers gently knocked against the firm wood of your boss’s closed office door, your opposite hand clutching a closed envelope. It had been an incredibly slow day with very few meetings and a large project having just been finished, so you felt slightly more comfortable approaching her during the work day. After a few minutes, her cheery voice beckoned you to enter. You slowly pushed open the door and stepped inside with a small smile on your face.

Your boss was ridiculously gorgeous. You often wondered why she was busying her time working in a graphic design firm rather than modeling on international runways or selling luxury clothing, but at the same time, you were more than happy to be working under her. She came from a long line of strong, independent women, and made sure to instill the same values in her workplace.

“Ms. Boa, thank you for your time,” you stated politely as you sat down in the plush seat in front of her desk. Directly beside her computer monitor was a framed photo of her and her two younger sisters. The sight made your smile widen.

“It’s never a problem, darling,” she responded, a small grin on her own lips as she finished typing an email, sending it off with a sharp click on her keyboard before turning her full attention to you. “What can I help you with?”

You pulled out the envelope from behind your back, slipping it over the top of her desk. Curiously, she took the parcel and peeled up the flap on the back, dipping her perfectly manicured nails inside the paper and pulling out a small stack of photographs, held together with a wire paperclip. Her eyes widened almost instantly, making your heart skip a few beats as you watched her absorb what she was holding.

“No way,” she uttered under her breath before turning her sharp gaze towards you, her eyes sparkling with glee. Her next sentence came out almost as a squeak. “Twins?!”

You nodded eagerly, fidgeting with your hands in your lap. “I’m about 13 weeks along now.”

Boa Hancock launched herself from her rolling chair, almost sprinting around the desk to envelop you in a hug. She had been one of your biggest under-the-table supporters of your pregnancy struggles, having allowed you generous time off that most companies would strongly turn their noses towards. She almost jumped off of the ground as she pulled you from your seat and wrapped her lean arms around your shoulders.

“I could cry right now, I really could!” She pulled away from you, her hands still gripping your shoulders. “13 weeks… that’s longer than the other two, right?”

“Yup,” you stated curtly. “It’s been really weird coming to terms with it, but I’ve made it this long and everything’s been progressing normally according to my doctor, so I’ve finally started telling more people outside of our immediate friends.”

Hancock smoothed her hand over your cheek, a mothering gesture that made you smile brightly. “You’re already glowing, look at you!”

After a few moments, she finally retreated back to her desk and gazed lovingly at the ultrasound pictures you had handed her. They were from your 12-week scan just a week prior, and you could already see their individual traits. Large, alien-like heads, little nubs for hands and feet, two little bodies curled up tightly in your womb.

“This is probably the best news I’ve heard all year,” she sighed, clipping the pictures back together and handing them back to you in their original envelope. “I take it you used IVF?”

“We did. It was an insanely long process, but clearly,” you held up the envelope with a cheeky grin on your face. “It worked.”

Hancock squealed again, spinning around in her chair. “I’m so, so happy for you and your husband, I mean it!”

Her sentiment made your heart flutter in your chest. Knowing sparing amounts of her history, you knew topics of maternal nature were very important to her, and the fact that one of her best employees was finally succeeding in something she had wanted for so long was an act of pride for the female boss. She collected herself, still maintaining a smile as she folded her hands on her desk and looked at you.

“So what can I do to help you out?” she asked, her dark gray eyes focused.

“Well, I wanted to hopefully discuss maternity leave sooner rather than later,” you offered. “I know I’ve taken far too much time off of work, so even if you wanted me back after four months–”

“Absolutely not,” she stated flatly, cutting you off. “Sweetie, you’re pregnant with twins. The least I would give you is a year and a half!”

You backpedaled, your eyes widening. “That’s too much…!”

She shook her head, affirming her stance. “Darling, think about it like this.” She tapped one of her manicured fingernails on the wooden surface of her desk. “You are easily one of my hardest working employees. You put your all into every single project you’re given, you work amazing with the rest of the team, you’re an all-around irreplaceable person to have. You’re also an amazing woman outside of work. And your husband is a heart surgeon who can barely get time off. Twins are a handful, and even if you have good support at home, you’re going to want those extra months to spend with your babies and to share those moments with your husband when he’s home.”

Hancock’s words rendered you speechless, your jaw essentially hitting the floor. You couldn’t disagree, though, the woman was right.

She seemed to know it, too, as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her long legs. “So?”

You quickly bowed your head. “I wish there was a way to repay your generosity, seriously.”

“You can repay me by giving birth to two healthy, happy babies. And the first step to doing that is taking care of yourself.” The smile she gave you was enough to melt a glacier.

Your eyes began to well with tears. “Can I hug you again?”

Hancock laughed, once again standing from her seat to embrace you. “I’m saying this as more of a friend rather than your supervisor. You are so deserving of all the happiness you can get. I’m so proud of you for staying so strong and pushing through what you’ve gone through, and anything you need from me over the next eight months, just say the word. I know the entire company would be more than happy to back you up.”

You wiped your eyes on the sleeve of your work blouse, your lips forming a smile through their quivering. “Thank you so, so much, Ms. Boa.”

“Have you told the rest of the team yet?” she suddenly asked.

“No, I haven’t. Only Ikkaku knows,” you replied.

Her eyes became sparkly as her lips curled into a cheeky grin. “Wanna go share the news?”

—

“Law, you look like you’re glowing!” Rebecca’s large brown eyes gazed up at her superior from her seat at the nurse’s station as Law passed by with a cup of coffee in his hands.

With a small smile, he stopped to look at her. “Do I?”

“You do!” She stood from her seat, gathering a few papers in her hands before circling around the counter and joining Law in his walk to the break room. “Has something big happened? I mean, you usually don’t radiate positivity this much, but it’s just coming off of you in waves!”

Law gazed forward down the hallway as he walked, the warmth from his styrofoam cup warming his hand. He had to admit, his shoulders had felt significantly lighter, and his chest certainly felt fuzzy in the past few weeks. “Rebecca, if I tell you, you have to promise not to spread it around. I’m trying to keep it under wraps for a little longer, but I think I can trust you.”

Rebecca’s eyes were wide with curiosity as she eagerly waited for whatever news Law was holding on his tongue.

His lips curled into a pleased grin. “My wife is pregnant with twins.”

The pink-haired nurse almost dropped her papers in shock, her feet planting her to the floor as she gasped. It clearly took her a great deal of restraint not to burst out in excitement, so she expelled her quick burst of energy by covering her mouth with her papers and exhaling a long, pronounced sigh. “Law, that’s incredible!”

He simply smiled, continuing to walk. Rebecca regained her composure and scampered after him.

“You guys were trying for a long time, right?” Now it was her turn to glow with happiness. “That’s so exciting, I’m so happy for you both!”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” the surgeon replied, his own voice airy and light. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this excited to share the details of his personal life with someone. While he had been keeping his surgery team up-to-date with some of the details regarding your procedures, that was mostly due to the fact that his cell phone had become a returning character in the operating theater. Rebecca wasn’t a part of his surgery team, so her interactions with him were mostly from patient rounds. Nevertheless, it was clear that the younger girl was more than excited to be told the incredible news, if her bright, toothy smile was anything to go by.

“How far along?” she asked.

“13 weeks.” He took a deep breath. “It’s been a stressful three months, but so far everything’s been going smoothly.”

Rebecca sighed dreamily. “Wow, that’s seriously incredible… Congratulations, Law!” After a few brief moments, she turned her head to look at her superior. “Hey, if you want any help with picking out baby clothes, I know a really good seamstress downtown! She runs a clothing boutique but also does custom orders. I can put in a name for you and your contact info!”

Law pondered over her offer. Truthfully, neither of you had started planning anything regarding when the babies would actually arrive. The thought suddenly made Law a bit nervous. You were just about starting your second trimester and with everything going well regarding your health and the development of the babies, it seemed like now would be a good time to begin preparing actual baby gear for your apartment.

“That’d be really nice, Rebecca, thank you,” he finally responded with a cordial smile.

Their conversation quickly dissipated as Rebecca needed to depart to go on another shift of rounds, but before she departed she scribbled a name and number onto a piece of paper and slipped it into the pocket of Law’s white laboratory coat. With a small smile remaining on his lips, he entered the break room and finally placed his now-lukewarm cup of coffee on the counter before sitting down and pulling out his phone. He had a few new text messages from you, making his smile grow.

Mama So i might have caved and told all my coworkers today… they want to plan a baby shower now but i told them to take it easy! But dont be surprised if we get a bunch of new baby items in the coming weeks <3

Mama Wait did you change my contact name???

Mama I didnt know my phone could do that LOL it says you changed my contact name

Law chuckled as he tapped on his screen to begin typing.

I changed it a few days ago. I can change it back to Wifey if you want.

After a few moments, another bubble from you popped up.

Mama I think i like being mama <3

Mama Ive been addressing you as ‘daddy’ in that journal you got me so i guess its not much different!!!

Law needed to duck his head to hide his broad smile from the other colleagues on their break. The last thing he wanted was any unnecessary attention drawn to himself thanks to his uncharacteristic grin.

You need to stop making me smile, one of my nurses already told me it looks like I’m glowing.

Mama AWWW BABYYY… YOU ARE GLOWING!!!!

Mama I have to go anyway and take bepo for a walk, i’ll see you later love!

Text me if you want something brought home for dinner.

A little heart bubble appeared next to his response for you. With a long exhale through his nose, he placed his phone back in his pocket and took a long sip from his coffee.

—

Law arrived back to your apartment later that evening, a brown paper bag of take-out sushi in his hands as he closed the door behind him with his foot.

“Babe?” he called. The apartment was eerily quiet, making his heart rate momentarily spike.

“I’m in here!” you yelled back, your voice coming from the living room. “I’m in a bit of a predicament.”

Law was quick to kick off his shoes and round the corner into the main living space of your home, placing the bag with your dinners on the counter. A smile tugged at his lips at the sight of you sprawled out on the floor. Bepo was laying flush against your side with his head resting perfectly on top of your belly.

“He hasn’t moved in, like, fifteen minutes,” you said. “My neck is starting to hurt.”

Your husband walked over to your spot on the floor, sitting next to you opposite the dog and reaching his hand over to card his long fingers through Bepo’s fuzzy head. The animal slow-blinked like a cat in response, the sight making you laugh.

“Do you think he knows I’m pregnant?” you asked. “He’s been a lot more attentive of me lately.”

“Animals have really keen instincts, it wouldn’t surprise me if he senses something different about you,” Law replied, rubbing small circles behind Bepo’s pointy ears. “There have been a lot of reports about animals recognizing symptoms of various illnesses in humans, maybe you smell different to him.”

The thought made you smile. “Whatever it is, he’s already showing off how good of a big brother he’ll be.” You fidgeted slightly on the floor, making Bepo pick his head up enough for you to push yourself up on your hands. Law supported your back with his arm, placing a kiss on your head when you sat up high enough.

“He’s our gentle giant… we’re probably going to need to get a new vacuum cleaner, though,” he offered, holding out his hands to help you to your feet. You eagerly gripped him back, wheezing slightly as he hauled you off the floor.

“Oh, definitely. We’re probably going to need to wrap all of our baby things in mesh to keep his fur out!” You placed a kiss to the tip of Law’s nose before proceeding toward the kitchen. “Hopefully neither of them have allergies.”

Law snorted. “Bepo would find a new home with Shachi and Penguin in that case.”

You excitedly opened the brown paper bag, your mouth watering at the sight of your favorite sushi rolls packed neatly into plastic containers. There were five rolls in total to split between the two of you. “You know me too well, baby,” you moaned out, removing the containers from the bag and fetching two pairs of chopsticks from your utensil drawer.

Law pulled out two chairs for the both of you at the table, helping you place your food down. He waited until you took the first bite before digging in himself.

“So I made an impulse purchase today,” you began, pulling out your phone from your back pocket. A few taps on your screen brought you to an online shopping app which you then showed to Law.

His eyes lit up almost immediately. “Sora pajamas?!” He snatched your phone out of your hands, making you laugh at his excitement. You had ordered a set of footie pajamas for all six of the main Sora characters- Sora and the five officers of Germa 66. “I didn’t even know they made these!”

“Me neither! Sanji told me about them today!” You popped a piece of sushi into your mouth. “Sanji’s always had a weird connection with that comic. Have you noticed how much he resembles Stealth Black?”

Law finally handed your phone back to you. “And his siblings, too. Have you met his older sister?”

You laughed at the thought. “It’s uncanny!”

“Well,” Law began after swallowing another bite. “That makes me feel better. I might have made some purchases of my own while I was on break earlier. I was talking to one of my nurses and she gave me the name of a woman who runs a local boutique downtown, apparently she takes orders for custom apparel. I might have placed a few orders for baby clothes.” He had a cheeky smile on his face as he shared the information with you.

You practically beamed at him. “I’m glad we’re both on the same page!” After a few brief moments of silence passed, you whispered, “Sora pajamas…”

Law beamed back at you. Maybe he really was glowing.

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #i'm losing you

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sssammich · 2 months

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collateral ch6

HELLO i'm posting this purely for the bit in that it's st. patrick's day and therefore it's kmcg's day. sorry to the one veto vote in my unserious poll.

here's the chapter in ao3

here's the rest on tumblr: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

thx for reading see u next time

---

It’s only Kara’s third week on the job at CatCo. It’s a definite upgrade from her job writing articles for the Midvale Messenger, but the transition from small town to big city living has needed a little learning curve. She’s barely gotten used to her schedule, let alone the bus route to and from her apartment when a really big assignment falls on her lap that changes her entire life.

She looks up, pushing her glasses back on her face when she finds Snapper’s scowling face in front of her.

“Come with me.”

She furrows her brows, yet before she has time to ask him anything, he’s already walking away. She scrambles to her feet and rushes after her boss paying little attention to the stares coming from those around the office. She eventually gets her answer when they end up in his office.

“Sir, what—”

“Can you explain to me why Lena Luthor requested you specifically to write about the launch of their new tech project?”

Kara’s head remains empty as she quickly rifles through her mind for some flash of recognition to that name. She doesn’t know a Lena Luthor nor does she even cover the tech beat.

“Snapper, sir, this might be a misunderstanding. I don’t know who that is.”

He glares at her just as he places one hand on his hip while the other rests on his desk. “Well, you better figure out who she is quickly. You have an interview with her on Thursday at 10am. Do not be late. And make that article worth my while, you understand?”

“Me?” she asks, her head slow to catch up to his words.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask me that. Now, get out of my office.”

Wordlessly, and still a little shell-shocked, Kara quickly exits out of his office and makes his way back to her desk.

“What was that about?” William, one of her coworkers, asks her as peers over his monitor.

She shakes her head. “I have no freakin’ clue.”

—

Armed with a memo pad and her trusty BIC ballpoint pen, she enters the L-Corp building in downtown National City. She’s on her second cup of coffee this morning, having stayed up late the last two nights doing her homework, researching about L-Corp, the upcoming project launch that the company has largely kept under wraps, and the head of Research and Design: Lena Luthor.

She has no idea what this woman’s game is about, but she won’t turn down the opportunity as it presents itself.

Wiping her sweaty hands on the back of her chinos, she reaches the 46th floor and talks with Lena’s assistant about ten minutes before her appointment.

“Miss Luthor will be with you shortly.”

“Thanks.”

She waits patiently in the small waiting area, her knee bouncing slightly. She crosses her legs at the knee and resituates herself to stop the bounce. She glances at the clock on the wall and finds that Lena Luthor is now five minutes late.

She considers walking up to the assistant who seems very intently typing away at her keyboard, but thinks better of it. She waits it out, gives it another five minutes. She reviews her questions from her pad and double checks that her recorder is fully charged. The ticking from the clock and the consistent typing sounds fill the otherwise empty waiting area.

She watches on as the assistant takes a call before looking over at her from across the way.

“Miss Luthor apologies for her tardiness, but if you could wait another five minutes, she’ll be on her way up.”

She nods and sits back slightly in her chair. The clock ticks on.

While waiting, Kara briefly wonders if this is some type of test, a ploy to check on her. Her imagination lands her to think that this might be some kind of hazing from her colleagues. That didn’t make sense, however, not when this assistant seems like the kind of woman who wouldn’t participate in a prank if it affected her productivity.

After almost twenty minutes, Kara audibly sighs, tries to rein in her annoyance, before getting up from her seat and decides that perhaps it’s best to reschedule. Just as she’s about to talk with the assistant, the elevator dings open and a woman in a lab coat wearing large dark-rimmed glasses with her hair pulled back in a high ponytail rushes towards them.

“You must be Kara Danvers,” the woman says, her voice coming out composed despite the exhale she lets out, no doubt from rushing out.

“I—yes,” she offers, a little stupefied in her spot, glancing down at the offered hand before slowly taking it in her own.

“Lena Luthor. My deepest apologies for being so late; I was on my way up when a small emergency that couldn’t be ignored exploded…literally.”

“Is everyone okay?”

“Everyone is more than fine, thank you. Now, I’m sure you’re also a busy woman, so if we need to reschedule, then I understand. But if you have some time to spare, I can clear part of my schedule so you can ask all of your questions.”

She blinks a few times to process Lena’s words, a reckoning force in front of her that Kara wouldn’t deny, even if she could. She beams and steps to the side. “Deal.”

—

True to her word, Lena Luthor answers all of her questions about the new project called Biomax, a nanotechnology meant to advance and expedite healing for various open wounds and injuries. She thoughtfully takes notes of Lena’s responses knowing that the recording will help jog her memories if necessary.

“Do you have any more questions?”

Kara glances down to the last question that she has underlined twice: why me?

She hesitates, an uneasy smile on her face. “Yeah, actually.”

“Go ahead.”

“Why did you pick me to interview you? As far as I know, we��ve never met—I’d remember you, for the record—so…just…why?”

Lena holds her gaze, her head tipping to the side as she regards Kara. She almost looks away under the attention, but maintains her composure.

“I’m honestly surprised you didn’t ask me right away.”

She shrugs.

“This project is very important to L-Corp and could greatly affect public perceptions of the company.”

“I won’t write a puff piece if that’s what you’re asking,” she declares, sitting up. Yet Lena matches her and places a hand up, as if to stop her.

“On the contrary. I need you to do what you do best.”

“Excuse me?”

Lena tents her hands in front of her and smirks. “Your established work in the Midvale Messenger shows level-headedness and thoughtful critiques. You’ve shown fair assessment and reporting, as far as I’m aware.”

“Oh.”

“This is a good project, Miss Danvers. I believe it can do a lot of good for a lot of people. But prior to the rebranding, L-Corp has been host to many scandals, as I’m sure your research has shown you. All I ask is that the project is reported on on its own merits and critiqued fairly for what it is and not who owns the building that developed it.”

“You researched me?”

“As I’m sure you researched me.”

“Fair enough.” She nods in understanding. Then, “Don’t worry. I’ll do my job.”

Lena smiles wide and Kara can’t help but glance down at red lips and white teeth.

“That’s all I ask.”

Lena’s phone rings, signaling that she needs to get ready for an upcoming meeting. They both stand on either side of Lena’s desk before Lena walks around and stands practically toe to toe with her.

“Thank you for your time, Miss Luthor—”

“Lena, please.”

“Lena, then. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Danvers.”

“Well, if I’m calling you Lena…”

“Kara it is. Feel free to call back if you need anything else for your article.”

It’s only as they take the few measured steps between the desk and the office door that Kara notes the warm and cozy tones of Lena’s perfume just as she catches the side to side swish of her long ponytail from the corner of her eye.

She turns around again and offers a hand, this time Lena grabbing hold of it with ease and shaking it a few times.

“I hope this isn’t the last time we talk.”

“I hope not either.”

It’s not until Jess opens the door in front of them that they let go of each other’s hands.

—

Her article goes to print, and she’s happy to see her name on the byline. So soon after starting her job, too.

When she walks into the office the morning her article goes live, she’s met with all eyes from everyone staring at her as soon as she steps out of the elevator. She offers them uneasy smiles as she treks to her desk only to find it teeming with flowers.

“What’s this?” she asks as she tries to move the different bouquets out of her seat and away from her monitor and keyboard. She glances at William next desk over and he only shrugs.

“Secret admirer?”

She plucks the lone card from one of the bouquets and flips it over, grinning from ear to ear.

Thank you for doing your job. L.L.

—

The paper bag crinkles in her grip as she adjusts the shoulder strap of her messenger bag. The elevator dings and she appears back on the 46th floor of the L-Corp building.

She walks towards the assistant who doesn’t seem surprised to see her.

“Hi, uh—” she quickly glances at the name on the desk, “—hi, Jess. I was here last time. I know I don’t have an appointment, but do you think Len–Miss Luthor has a small break coming up or anything like that?” She knocks her glasses back up her nose with her knuckle.

Jess studies her for a moment before glancing back down to the monitor. “She’s free for the next fifteen minutes.”

She nods quickly and smiles, appreciative of the granted access.

Kara knocks and waits until she hears a muffled response for her to enter. She peeks through the door before slowly making her way in.

“Hi, Lena. Sorry to drop in unannounced…”

“Kara, hello. This is a lovely surprise.”

She hums. “Well, I was in the neighborhood.”

“Is that so?”

“Mm. It turns out, it’s hard to get work done when your desk is overflowing with flowers.”

“Really? Never would have guessed.”

“No? Somehow I’m surprised,” she asks with a slight giggle. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, I did.” Lena nods, her face sobering slightly, even with the smile still on her face.

Kara brings a hand up and fixes her glasses again. “Well, I’m not sure I can compete with dozens and dozens of flowers. But perhaps I can offer you with a couple deep fried sugary goodness in exchange. You do eat donuts, right?”

Lena stands from the side of her desk and walks to accept the bag from Kara’s hands. “Well, I am human. Thank you, Kara. Won’t you join me? Probably for the best I don’t eat it all.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

Lena sits on the white couch at the far end of her office. “I’m very sure.”

Kara takes a spot on the couch, the bag of donuts sitting between them. The fifteen minutes of break that Jess originally mentioned becomes half an hour then an hour until it’s just about time to leave for the day, the minutes and hours filled with conversation about nothing, everything.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry, Lena,” she starts as they both rise to their feet. “I didn’t mean to keep you.”

“Nonsense.”

“I should probably get going, though. A few bites of donuts isn’t enough sustenance.”

“Well, if you’re not tired of me yet, I was just about to grab some dinner. You're welcome join me.”

"I couldn't impose."

"I insist."

Kara glances down at the way Lena’s hands fiddled with each other. Then she thinks briefly about the empty apartment that awaits her and the leftovers sitting in her fridge.

“Well, then, I’d love that.”

—

Days of friendship blossomed into weeks, Kara and Lena trading texts and video calls interspersed with dinners and coffees after long work days.

The excitement of friendship with Lena lit something deep inside of Kara that she didn’t know ever existed. Simply put, being around Lena was a source of comfort while she settled herself in National City.

“You’re not the only one who’s new around here,” Lena had said to her during one of their coffee outings, sympathizing with Kara’s adjustment after her recent arrival to the city. “It’s nice for me, too, to have someone—a friend—to spend time with. My therapist thinks so, anyway.”

Kara then reached forward and placed a hand on Lena’s. “Tell your therapist you’re not alone, Lena. You’ve got me.”

Lena smiled before reaching over and giving her a hug. Kara easily accepted, held Lena close to her, and made sure to never break her vow.

—

It’s been a handful of months since Lena and Kara became friends, best friends even, and being allowed unrestricted access to Lena’s office for Kara to stop by still rattles something inside of her. It’s…she can’t quite put a finger on it. A kind of intimacy she enjoys: to be chosen, to be privileged in this way.

She greets Jess with a grin and a separate bag for Jess’s favored almond croissants as Kara carries her and Lena’s lunch from Noonan’s.

“How’s it looking today, Jess?” she asks just as puts the bag for Jess on her desk. The assistant grabs for the bag, an uncharacteristic voraciousness as she opens it and takes a whiff of the pastry. “That bad, huh?”

“She’ll enjoy seeing you today, let’s just say.”

“Alright. Does she have a hard stop?”

“She has a conference call at 3. But otherwise, keep her from her computer until then.”

“Got it.”

Just then, Lena pulls the door open. “Stop plotting against me.”

Kara beams and walks forward with a one-armed hug as she holds the bag of their lunch away from their bodies. She warms at Lena’s touch, both of her arms wrapping around Kara’s back before it gently slides down the length of her back before her hands rest briefly on Kara’s waist.

“I’ll plot against you any way I like. I’m my own woman.”

“Yes, you are. It’s good to see you, darling. But we don’t have an appointment, do we?”

“No, no. I just figured I’d drop off some lunch for you. Heard you’ve had a brutal morning.”

Lena then glances at Jess who has remained steadfast in staring at her screen. “Is that right?”

“Yes. Now we can stand here or we can actually eat some lunch. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

Lena steps back and allows her to walk past her, making a beeline for the coffee table in front of her white couch. She quickly takes out their food from the bag and situates it neatly in front of them, a nice little spread of salads and breads and pasta dishes.

“Did you buy all of Noonan’s?” Lena asks when she sits beside Kara on the couch. “I can’t possibly eat all of this food, Kara.”

“Uh, because they’re not for you,” she says, offering a playful scoff. “That’s your kale salad and all the good stuff is mine.”

She grins when she catches Lena rolling her eyes at her who otherwise grabs a plastic fork and takes a healthy bite out of her salad. Kara hates the stuff, thinks it’s an abomination, but she’s happy to see her friend eating and relaxing.

Kara etches this moment to memory. Because she likes how settled Lena is beside her as they dig into their lunch. Likes how visibly comfortable Lena looks as she asks Kara about her day so far. Likes how she nudges some other dishes Lena’s way until Lena relents, still gracious as she does so, picking at some of the food. It’s one of Kara’s favorite views, the way Lena leaves herself unguarded, her walls down, with her.

Abruptly and without notice, something inside of Kara shifts—irreparably, irrevocably.

She doesn’t know what she’s even said for Lena to snort in laughter, putting her food down on the coffee table to cover her mouth as giggles leak through her fingers.

Something inside of Kara slots into place, the world suddenly saturated and sharpened.

When Lena gets a handle on her laughter, her mouth still etched with the echoes of her mirth, she opens her eyes to fondly look back at Kara, grasping at her arm and squeezing.

Kara doesn’t hear anything but the pulse of her blood rushing to her ears, and the heat of Lena’s hand on her skin suddenly scorching her.

And Kara, hopeless and unprepared, discovers on a Tuesday afternoon that she’s maybe a little bit in love with her best friend.

#samfic: collateral #supercorp #supergirl #supergirl fanfiction #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp fanfiction #samfic #ok ok im gonna go do other things for now

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levans44 · 8 months

Text

Apartment #3 - Chapter 3

pairing: steve rogers x undercover!reader

warnings: 18+ SMUT*, Neighbors to Friends to Lovers, lots of angst, heavy mutual pining, hurt/comfort, eventual smut/romance/fluff

summary: as an undercover agent at SHIELD, her newest assignment involves moving in across the hall from her target. she's strictly ordered to keep her distance—no personal contact besides the absolutely necessary. the only issue? her new target neighbor turns out to be Captain America.

excerpt:

Jessica Grace Parker December 4th, 1989 569 Leaman Place Apt. #3, Brooklyn, NY 11201 Registered Nurse NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital

It’s the undercover alias she’s been assigned as a member of SHIELD’s Special Operations unit. The mission objective was rather simple—monitor the target and report updates as necessary.

She’s gone undercover more than a dozen times, so it’s not the details of the assignment or the temporary relocation she’s concerned about.

It’s just that her target was well… more unusual than most.

author's note: an idea that's been living in my head ever since steve asked sharon for that cup of coffee in their apartment hallway. as a SHIELD agent, the reader's real name has been [REDACTED] to preserve anonymity.

masterlist

“So. You all moved in?”

She lets out a drawn-out sigh, leaning back in her office chair.

“Yep. And the new apartment’s somehow smaller than the one I have now.”

“Smaller than a studio in Manhattan?” Thomas crinkles his nose, gaze fixed on his screen as he types off the rest of his latest mission report—a 0-8-4 mission to investigate some unregistered Asgardian technology that was detected on the Portuguese coast.

“Yeah, the whole building looks like it’s been there for at least a century. Wouldn’t be surprised if the plumbing’s gone to shit.”

“Damn.” Thomas tsks, muttering absentmindedly as he gathers the files on his desk, closing up the folder. “…well, if it’s good enough for Cap…” He sighs, before his head raises slowly with a newfound interest.

“speaking of whom…”

Folding his fingers over the desk, he wiggles in his seat in anticipation, like a lion ready to strike its prey.

“Did you see him? How was he? Everything you dreamed of and more?”

She rolls her eyes, snorting.

“First of all, I barely met him.”

Thomas gasps, practically jumping up in his chair.

“So you did see him!”

She shoots him a wide-eyed glare, giving the office a hurried scan.

“Barely, Tom. I just said hi.”

She tries to brush off her coworker’s overt interest, pretending to shift her attention to her monitor as she hits ‘refresh’ on her inbox.

Thomas, of course, doesn’t let up.

He groans, practically climbing on top of his spinning chair in excitement as he leans in closer.

“C’mon, girl, spill! I know there’s more than that.”

She purses her lips, glaring at the unread mail piled up in her spam box before swirling around in her seat, sighing in defeat.

“Fine, he just… he helped me with a couple boxes, and he uhm… hesawmykeychain.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest as she huffs out another breath.

“That stupid keychain you got me, Thomas? He saw it.”

It takes what feels like a full hour for the realization to sink into Thomas’s face, and when it does, he’s a laughing mess over her desk, clutching onto his keyboard for support.

“H-holy shit, you’re kidding!”

He gasps for air, banging on the table as she playfully shoves his hands away.

“Oh my god, girl, I’d say I’m sorry, but… I’m not.”

At the deadpanned expression on her face, he breaks into another bout of giggles. Just as she starts to seriously contemplate strangling her coworker, her phone buzzes on her desk:

Messages Grant Ward 1 Message ‘here.’

“Wait, so how did he rea… ugh, please don’t tell me that’s him again.” Thomas remarks with undisguised disgust, his mood making a remarkably quick 180.

“Yeah, we’re meeting for lunch today.” She mutters, slipping her phone and purse into her bag.

“What? What about our sushi date Friday?”

“Next week?” She stands up, shooting him an apologetic smile as she grabs her jacket from behind her chair.

“Ugh, I hope he chokes on his food.” Thomas sings under his breath, swiveling back around in his chair as he rolls his eyes.

“Wait, so what are your thoughts on Grant again?” She smirks amusedly, hand on her hip, purse hanging from one arm.

“Oh, he’s just a sweetheart! So glad you guys are back together.” Thomas claps, blinking up at her with fake enthusiasm.

She only rolls her eyes in response, no longer bothered about her friend’s open disapproval for her on-again off-again relationship with Grant.

2 years she’s known Grant Ward, ever since they collaborated on a week-long asset extraction case in Marrakech. He was the confident, charming type from the get-go—a perfect foil to her more withdrawn attitude around new people—and for the first few months, it felt like a match made in heaven. Things started to get a little rocky around month 5, and though she understands the concerns her friends have voiced about the instability of their relationship, a part of her is determined to prove them wrong.

When she arrives at the first floor of their building, he’s waiting for her at the lobby cafe.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.” She huffs out a breath, sliding into the seat opposite of his.

“Hey, one sec” he mutters without glancing up, slumped backward in his seat. His gaze remains fixed on his phone, thumbs moving quickly across the screen as he types out a long message.

She lets out a quiet breath, glancing around at the crowded space as agents and other SHIELD employees walked in for coffee and some quick grab-and-go options: turkey sandwiches, salads, fruit cups.

“I didn’t know this place served lunch.”

“Hmm?” Grant hums after a long pause, eyes flit rapidly across the screen, head nodding though she doubts he’s heard her. “… yeah, just—“ Another ding sounds from his device and his brows perk up, eyes quickly scanning whatever message is lighting up his phone.

She frowns, sitting up in her chair as she leans forward.

“Is that about work? Everything ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine.” Grant licks his lips, sucking in a breath, and the divot between her brows deepens.

“Listen, [REDACTED]….”

He slips his phone into his pocket, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward.

“…I need to talk to you about something.”

An invisible rope goes taut in the pit of her stomach.

“Okay.” She murmurs slowly, eyes flitting between the hard set line of his jaw and the serious lines under his eyes.

“I’ve been thinking about us lately, and…”

The rope in her stomach stretches farther and farther, the pressure building up in her lungs.

“I think it’s best if we call this off.”

The rope snaps loose, and the blade of the guillotine swings down.

She opens her mouth, but all the air’s been sucked out of her lungs and she’s left gaping like a fish out of water.

“I… what?” She manages to choke out.

From across the table, Grant heaves out a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s just with this relocation gig you’ve got going, I never see you anymore, and I just…. I think we drifted apart, that’s all.”

Her entire body immediately goes rigid at the mention of her new assignment—it was something that Grant had been opposed from the very start:

‘Brooklyn? Really? What the hell does Fury want you to do in that shithole?’

He had complained.

She had tried to convince herself that he was being protective, simply worried because she wasn’t allowed to let him in on any of the assignment details. But deep down, she always knew it was the green-eyed monster—at the onset of recruitment, he was disappointed to learn he wasn’t included in the short list of agents whom Fury considered for the assignment.

She should have known better. About him. About all of it.

“Sorry, are you… are you dumping me right now?”

“No, listen, baby, I think you’re great—“

And the condescension in his voice as he croons ‘baby’ is the last straw that blows the whole fuse.

“—okay, you know what? First off, I am not your fucking baby.”

“…and second, don’t pretend like you haven’t been texting someone else these past few weeks.”

From the small glimpses of ‘miss you <3’ and ‘when are you getting back?’ on his phone, to the way he’d regularly blame overtime for last-minute date cancellations—everything was so obvious in retrospect.

He scoffs at her accusatory glare, as if the idea was unimaginable.

“I haven’t been texting anyon—”

She lets out a sharp laugh, head tilting back as her nose pricks, tears clouding the corner of her vision.

Why had she given him the benefit of the doubt? Deep down, she had known all along.

“—you know what, Grant? That’s great.” She stands up abruptly, chair dragging loudly against the floor as she snatches up her belongings off the table. “…but if you’re gonna cheat on me, at least have the fucking balls to admit that you’re the reason we’re not together. Not me or my fucking job.”

The rest of her work day is fueled with nothing but rage—she nearly breaks her keyboard trying to draft a simple email, accidentally stomping over an office plant on her way to the fax machine. Matters are only made worse when she’s called in to deal with a tense hostage situation that drags on for hours on end.

By the time she gets back to her place in Brooklyn, it’s 8:21pm.

It’s 8:21 pm on a Friday night and her feet are aching, back tense from an afternoon of slumping over the mission control monitor.

It’s 8:21 pm on a Friday night and she’s just managed to climb up the last few stairs to her floor when her phone’s suddenly blowing up with text notifications from Thomas, Kristen from statistics, and a few other close friends from work:

‘OPEN THIS RIGHT NOW.'

‘What in the actual fuck? Did you know about this??’

‘Hey, I thought you should see this.’

Attached is a link to an Instagram story, uploaded by an account she recognizes as one of Grant’s buddies from work.

“What the fuck?” She mutters to herself, brows furrowing as she clicks on the video, squinting at the dimly lit but unmistakeable scene inside of a nightclub—Grant with another woman on his lap, drunk off his ass and laughing as if he hasn’t got a care in the world. The brunette in his lap reaches around, landing a deep kiss on Grant’s lips as his hands slide down her waist. The timestamp reads 10 minutes ago, confirming her biggest fear—not even 8 hours after they had broken up, and he’s parading around with a girl he’s probably been sleeping with for god knows how long.

It’s the third time the video’s playing back on loop when she realizes that angry, hot tears are dripping from her eyes, slowly making its way down to her jaw. She leans against the nearest wall, just outside her door, fingertips turning white at how harshly she was gripping her phone.

How could he do this, after two years of endless work and dedication?

Her knees can barely hold up her weight, stomach bubbling over with betrayal. Her eyes dart desperately across the screen, following their movements over and over and over—she doesn’t even hear the echo of the footsteps coming up the stairs behind her.

“Hey, you alright?” Her eyes snap up from her phone, but she doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is.

Great. Just fucking peachy.

She hastily turns off her phone and swipes at her cheeks, batting at the wet corners of her eyes before facing Steve. It doesn’t take a genius to notice she’d been crying, and his eyes immediately flit across her damp cheeks, the blurred mascara staining her lower lash line.

She fidgets with the rumpled edges of her blouse, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Hey.” She mutters, glancing back down at her phone though the screen is blank.

“Hi.” He tries to give her a friendly smile, though the corners of his mouth are noticeably stiff, a small divot forming between his brows.

“Are you… locked out of your place?” He frowns worriedly, eyes darting between her and the door behind her as he steps forward, raising his arm to gesture toward her apartment door. The keys in his hand jingle with his movements, while the other hand is balancing a flat cardboard box, patterned with red and black checkerboards on top. As he shuffles forward, she gets a sudden whiff of… oh, jesus.

Yeasty, cheesy, and the unmistakable aroma of fresh tomato sauce—all of which can only mean one thing.

She licks her lips, eyes flickering to the box in his hand before she clears her throat. She glances back toward her door, shaking her head.

“Oh, no, I just…”

Nope, just crying in the hallway cause I got dumped on by a guy who’s been cheating on me for weeks. How’s your night, Cap?

“… no, I’m not locked out.” She ends up muttering, though her feet stay rooted to her spot on the carpet, barely a few feet away from her door.

“Oh.” Steve nods slowly, pursing his lips.

“…right. Well, I’ll, I’ll see you around.”

Hesitantly, he continues forward, moving down the hallway. Now with her back turned to him, she only hears the soft jingle of his keys and his door creak open. And, yet, she doesn’t hear him step inside.

“Hey, Jess?”

Wincing, she turns around reluctantly, annoyance creeping up at Steve’s friendly gaze. He’s standing at his doorway, keys perched on top of the pizza box, his other hand resting on the doorframe.

Raising his brows, he quirks his head to one side and poses a question that throws her off guard.

“Have you had dinner yet?”

She blinks, and manages to shake her head.

He purses his lips, stepping forward, away from his dim apartment and back under the hallway lights.

“Well, if you…” He huffs out a breath, eyes flitting downwards then back up.

“… if you haven’t eaten yet, would you want to share this with me? Don’t think I can finish it on my own.”

He smiles, brows raised invitingly. Her eyes dart between the pizza box and the unassuming expression on his face, and she sucks in a quiet breath.

“I…” She’s dumbfounded, the second time she’s at a loss for words that night, feeling the whiplash of being dumped a minute ago and now being offered pizza by Captain America.

“…are you inviting me inside your apartment?”

It takes a moment for the implication behind her question to sink in, and when it does, Steve’s face is as red as the squares on the box he’s holding.

He perks up, noticeably stiffening. The tips of his ears are the first to turn scarlet, and soon he’s blushing a deep crimson all the way from his cheeks down to his neck.

He sighs, ducking his head, brows pinched together in distress.

“No, that’s… I’m sorry, that’s not what I me—”

And, despite everything that’s happened, she finds herself trying to bite back a smile.

“—hey, I’m kidding.”

His eyes snap up, eyes scanning her expression before he lets out a breath, letting out a sheepish smile.

“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean for that to come off as creepy.”

And after a while of trying to refrain from smiling, her mouth finally breaks open, and she lets out a quiet laugh.

“It didn’t. You’re okay.”

He seems a little reassured by her laugh, and remains standing in his doorway, door opened only a fraction of the way, and starts to bounce on the balls of his feet.

“Right, so…”

Despite the temporary escape she found in making Steve’s blush, she’s never seriously considered taking Steve’s suggestion. It would be insane, to break Fury’s direct order to maintain ‘no more contact than absolutely necessary’ in the first week she’d been assigned to the mission.

It was still a nice gesture, though. Nice to see that there’s more to Captain America than a friendly smile and a firm handshake.

“Uhm, t-that’s a really nice offer, but… I’m not really hung—”

And what she had planned on saying was: I’m not really hungry, enjoy your pizza.

What comes out, though, is a loud rumbling much further down south, just above her belly button.

She turns rigid, head snapping down to the traitor in her belly. And now, it’s her own face that’s as red as a slice of pepperoni.

It’s only then she realizes that she hasn’t had anything to eat since breakfast, on account of what happened at lunch with Grant.

From the way Steve’s brows perk up in newfound interest, she’s sure he’s heard the noise, and braces herself for whatever embarrassment would follow getting caught in the world’s most pathetic lie by Captain America.

Instead, America’s hero wordlessly steps back out into the hallway, letting his door close behind him with a soft ‘click.’ Finding a spot in the hallway, opposite her door, he plops straight down, laying the pizza down in his lap and stretching his legs across the expanse of the hallway.

She watches, wide-eyed and dumbfounded—it’s almost comical, how he has to cram his long legs into the narrow space between his side of the wall and hers. Bent at the knees, yet the soles of his feet still press against the other side.

She glances down at his sneakers, perched up against the wall—a pair of old-fashioned trainers, navy blue and white, with soles tattered and grey from what seems like years of use.

Her eyes trail up a pair of worn 501 Levis, and a navy blue henley that displays an ungodly amount of muscle even under the dull lighting of the hallway.

“You’re welcome to join me.” Steve grins nonchalantly as he pops open the top of the box, peering up at her under a set of friendly brows, almost as if challenging her to resist.

A tentative whiff as the smell of pizza drifts right up under her nose, and she lets out a loud sigh, dropping her shoulders.

The next moment, she’s turning on her heels. She heads straight for her apartment door and walks through, the door slamming shut behind her.

Not even a minute later, she’s back outside, holding up two ice cold beers by the neck. Hair thrown up in a loosely tied knot above her head, the top two button of her blouse undone.

Steve’s worried head snaps up at the sound of her door, the lines between his brows dissipating in relief. He smirks, sinking back into his seat on the carpet.

She plops down against the wall facing him, handing him a bottle before taking a swig from her own.

“Thanks.”

With a curious gaze, he slowly takes the bottle from her fingers, eyes following her as she tips her head back for a large swig. From across the hall, Steve rotates the box in his lap, offering her the first slice.

As her eyes flit over his order, she can’t help the smile that immediately tugs on her lips

“Good choice.” She murmurs amusedly, reaching for a slice to find it still warm.

“Yeah, figured it’s a classic.” He picks up a slice himself, the one next to the one she’s chosen, and sets the box down on the scraggly carpet.

She nods in agreement, practically drooling at the slice of heaven in her hand.

“Clean. No bullshit.”

A large cheese pizza, classic NY style.

Thin crust, decent char on the bottom though not too burnt. A generous layer of melty cheese and tangy red sauce.

“… wish life was more like that. No bullshit.” She mutters nonchalantly, more to herself than anything. He chuckles in response, the sound echoing down the hallway as he lifts his slice in the air.

“I’ll cheers to that.”

She laughs alongside him, surprised by how much easier it feels to smile all of a sudden.

“Cheers.”

One bite of the crispy, chewy, cheesy goodness, and all her troubles start to melt away.

“Mmm.” She lets out a low moan, eyes fluttering shut as her head bumps against the wall with a soft ‘thunk.’

“…fuck, that’s good.”

“Glad you like it.” Steve responds amusedly, smirking at her from over the rim of his beer. He’s got one arm resting over his knee, leg propped up against his chest while the other remains on the floor. The muscles in his forearms flex as he raises his bottle up to his lips, tipping the drink back.

Before her eyes can wander further, she clears her throat, glancing back down to the pizza in her hand. A second bite shoved hastily into her mouth before she can even swallow the first and good lord, did pizza always taste this good?

“Where’s this from?” She chews, lifting the top of the box off of the carpet to peer at the logo.

Before she can get the top more than an inch off the floor, however, Steve stops her with a quick hand, the width of his palm almost covering half of the box. Her eyes snap up to meet his smirk, brows raised and uncharacteristically mischievous.

“I’m afraid that’s top secret.” He tsks, and she gasps in response, feigning shock with a hand over her chest.

“Wow. Gatekeeping your pizza place? After I offered you my beer? That’s cold, neighbor.”

As soon as the last word escapes her lips, she perks up with a start, biting her tongue at the realization that she’d just used a goddamn nickname to refer to Captain America.

Her gaze snaps up at Steve, fear brewing in her chest to find that he was… laughing.

A good, hearty chuckle, head tipped back and all. Leaning back against the wall, holding his pizza in one hand, clutching his stomach with the other.

From this close a distance, she can spot every detail—like the tiny scar that hides between the small wrinkles on his forehead when he raises his brows. Or the small crows feet tugging at the corners of his eyes. The ridiculously long eyelashes that flutter every time he blinks, casting shadows over the tops of his cheeks. The small ridge in the bridge of his nose that’s slightly off-center. His plump bottom lip, stretching around a set of pearly-whites as he smiles, proposing a question:

“So how long have you been living in the city?”

“Hm?”

She freezes, eyes snapping up to meet his curious smile.

“You mentioned you moved here from Manhattan. How long have you been living there?”

And the sudden segue into this new inquiry intrigues her, more than anything. Because whatever the variation of the question—‘how long have you been coming here?’ or ‘how long have you known so-and-so?’ or, of course, the age-old ‘you come here often?’—they all usually come across as unwarranted and creepy, a half-assed attempt at a pick-up line at best.

Yet, from Steve, it only reads as part of a friendly, neighborly conversation. Open and honest, no ulterior motives. No bullshit.

It’s refreshing, to say the least.

“Not… not too long. Moved here for work.”

She mutters quickly, taking another swig of her beer, and licks her lips as a raw memory edges into her mind at the thought of work, more bitter than the beer that hits her tongue.

“…what about you?” She murmurs, watching a moment of conflict cross his face.

He recovers quickly, smoothing over it with a smile:

“Moved around a couple times, but… Brooklyn’s always been home.”

The bitter bite in her mouth softens a little at the nostalgic note in Steve’s gaze, her eyes tracing the soft creases in his shirt as she recalls his backstory:

Born and raised in Brooklyn, with a WW1 veteran dad who passed early and a mom who worked as a nurse. Not enough money to pursue art school, got caught a handful times getting into alleyway fights. Then tried to enlist on five different occasions, got rejected the first four times. Aside from the basics, though, there was little official documentation on Steve Rogers’ earlier days in Brooklyn.

Her thoughts are suddenly broken by her phone buzzing loudly in her pocket—just by the ringtone, she knows whose calling her.

She freezes, momentarily paralyzed as her phone continues to go off loudly. Steve’s eyes flit over to the source of the sound but remains quiet. After a few more rings, the phone goes silent, before starting up again with another call.

At that, she lets out an exasperated sigh, digging into her pocket before aggressively sliding the mute button on her phone. She tosses the phone on the carpet with a harsh ‘thud,’ hand reaching up to rub at her temple.

“Those are some persistent spam calls.”

Steve murmurs quietly.

She snorts, her rage temporarily dissolving into a dumfounded laugh that leaves her chest aching.

“That would be an insult to scammers everywhere.”

“You avoiding someone?” It’s obvious from his careful gaze that he doesn’t want to pry.

“You could say that.” She murmurs, eyes still lowered to the ground. Then, after a small pause:

“…it’s my boyfriend. Ex, actually.” She quickly corrects herself, scrunching her nose as the word leaves a sour note on her tongue.

Out of the corner of her eye, Steve opens then closes his mouth, giving her a small nod in understanding.

“I’m sorry.”

And, all of a sudden, she feels tears cloud her vision at the first words of consolation, his deep and warm timbre unlocking something fastened inside her.

Fuck, fuck.

“No, don’t be.” She chokes out a laugh as she blinks rapidly, feeling her nose prick with tears. Before she can stop herself, the next words are already tumbling out of her mouth:

“He broke up with me at lunch today. Turns out he’d been fucking this other girl for over a month.”

And it had to be the fatigue, the beer, or some combination of both that was loosening up her lips right now, because there was no way her lucid self could be consulting Captain America about her goddamnlove life.

“…and he had the audacity to break up with me. Can you believe that?”

Steve stays silent for a while, and she doesn’t have the courage to look up. Then, out of the blue:

“He sounds like a real asshole.”

Her eyes snap up as she lets out an incredulous breath, smiling.

“You’re damn right.”

Two more slices of pizza and a couple beers later, the weight on her chest feels noticeably lighter.

“Thanks for the pizza, my treat next time.”

An empty promise, she knows.

There can’t be a next time.

Steve nods, smiling.

“Anytime.”

He takes a small pause, pursing his lips as he casts a quick glance down at the carpet near her feet.

“…shame you got rid of it.” He murmurs.

“Hmm?”

“Your keychain.”

He points at the the set of keys resting on the floor between them, which had fallen out of her pocket sometime during the night. Upon realizing that he was referring to the absence of the red, white, and blue shield—she had made sure to remove it after the embarrassing encounter earlier that week—her confusion quickly turns into red hot embarrassment.

So he had noticed.

“Uhm, yeah, it was uh…” She clears her throat, bending down to snatch it off the floor.

“…getting a little bulky.”

“Bulky, huh?” He quirks his head, raising his brows, and the tip of his nose catches the lighting in the hallway.

“….so you’re not a fan?”

Eyebrows raised incredulously, she turns to him, eyes carefully surveying the unreadable expression on his face.

“I’m sorry?”

“Of Captain America? I noticed your keychain was his shield.”

She knew this man was good, but surely he couldn’t be that good?

It had been less than a week since the start of her mission. If he had already caught onto her identity, she would surely be saying goodbye to her steady 7-year-career at SHIELD. Upon a second glance, however, she realizes that the teasing glint in his eyes is a little less strategic and a little more… demure.

Could Steve Rogers poking fun at her keychain because of some other reason?

Her cheeks grow pink at the thought, but she pushes the thought elsewhere.

And because he thinks that she’s the clueless one in this conversation, she decides to play along, lips curling up in a coy smile.

“I don’t know… I always thought he was kinda overrated.” She pouts, fighting to suppress a smile.“

“…Captain America. Even the name sounds kinda douchey, don’t ya think?”

Contrary to her expectation, he lets out a loud laugh, head almost knocking against the drywall behind him. He glances down at her, hands on his hips, giving her a curious smile.

In this light, she thinks, he almost looks like the Captain America from the WW2 recruitment posters in the 30s—the fresh-faced, doe-eyed version of him untouched by decades of war.

“You know, I’ve always wondered who came up with that name.”

That night, as she waves goodbye to Steve and retreats into apartment #3, Fury’s voice bounces around in her head: ‘…primary directive is to maintain minimal contact with him. Nothing over what’s absolutely necessary.’

Yet, in the solitude of her bed, all she can think about is Steve—the soft peaks of his hair under the dim lighting of the hallway, the concerned divot between his brows when she had teased him. How he had leaned into their conversation so that he could hear her better, as if Captain American didn’t have better things to do than to listen to her tragic little love tales. That boyishly charming smile he had on his face when he offered her pizza, and again when he asked coyly about her keychain—so much of that innocent warmth she thought he’d lost.

Reminiscing the nostalgic light in Steve's eyes when he'd told her that Brookyln’s always been home, she begins to wonder just how deep the blue runs.

Apartment #3 Masterlist

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justimajin · 7 months

Text

The Profit & Love Statement » Pt. 16

↠ Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

↠ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ 6.7k / CEO AU

↠ Summary: Through hours of endless training and hard work, Kim Seokjin is finally the CEO of Kim Electronics. He has everything at his hands - status, money, power. He owes it all to you, his rigid and sarcastic mentor who overseed his entire training. But as he steps into the shoes of becoming the CEO, he can only wonder what it means for your relationship now.

↠ Next Update: Tuesday, October 17 (series masterpost here)

He wonders if he’s starting to spiral.

There’s a large stack of paperwork piling up at his desk by the minute, his eyes occasionally flickering over to the long list of emails on his desk and then back to signing a hoard of confirmations that need to be sent out. His schedule is atrociously filled with meetings and the third cup of coffee on his desk has long disappeared.

Seokjin squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing his temples and letting out a deep sigh. The hours have churned away and it still feels like he hasn't made significant progress, more work somehow emerging before him.

And the worst part is that he can’t take a minute out to fully process everything, can’t say that he’s just an intern and that this is a new responsibility for him anymore.

He’s the CEO. And this company is his.

Shaking his head lightly, he resumes back to focusing onto his monitor, irises racking over the emails and his fingertips gliding over the keyboard.

There’s a soft knock at the door.

He glances up in surprise, “Come in.”

A tall man in a black suit appears from behind the look wearing an impassable expression. Seokjin immediately recognizes him as his secretary, the individual responsible for organizing his entire lifestyle.

“What is it, Secretary Moon?”

“I had an employee request to meet with the CEO to go over the budget for the latest product.”

“The budget?” He frowns. He’s already finalized all decisions surrounding it.

Who would want to bring that up with him?

“I believe it was a representative from Sales and Finance.” The secretary looks down at his clipboard, “Miss Y/N L/N.”

In an instant, Seokjin’s expression changes. His eyes twinkle, the corners of his lips tugging up.

He quickly clears his throat, appearing stern. “I see, it must be important. Please direct her to my office when you can.”

Secretary Moon nods, closing the door as he leaves. The moment he hears it shut, he rises up from his chair, stretching his arms out in a hurry and adjusting his crumpled up suit jacket.

He fails to notice there’s a giant smile on his lips, excitement practically brimming within his eyes.

It’s not long before there’s a second knock on his door, an intrigued you peering into his office.

“Hi.” You smile, entering in and closing the door behind you. “You’re not too busy, right?”

“Not at all.” He shakes his head, although the pile of paperwork behind him states otherwise. Crossing his arms, he leans against his desk and a playful look sparks in his irises. “Although, I did hear someone wanted to discuss a budget with me…”

He leans forward, keenly looking at you, “Are you holding a grudge against me or something?”

You shake your head with a smile at the excuse you had to conjure up.

“Well, maybe if someone wasn’t so busy when I came to his office, I wouldn’t have asked about it.”

“Sounds like a very handsome and talented individual.” He cheekily states, much to the roll of your eyes.

“I came by because I promised you a coffee break,” You explain, “But instead I met that tall man outside of your office.”

“Oh yeah, he’s my newsecretary.” Jin states, “Secretary Moon.”

Your brows raise, “New secretary?”

“I know right?” He huffs, “Can’t believe I have one of those now.”

“Well, it’s all part of being CEO.” You point out and Jin rolls his eyes.

“–and I’m still not used to the sound of that.”

You chuckle underneath your breath, eyes flickering around. “Your office seems quite nice.”

It appears expansive and spacious, twice the size of other offices you’ve seen and paired with his own large desk and monitor.

“It looks really nice from here.” You don’t have a chance to respond when he’s reaching out, grasping onto your hand much to your surprise.

You’re brought in front of a huge glass window, showcasing all the different parts of the city below you. A soft gasp escapes your lips, and you’re left in complete marvel of the beautiful view.

“Wow….”

“Right?” Jin remarks with a smile. “I haven’t even shown you the best part yet.”

He leads you away from the window, into a side room that you hadn’t noticed upon arrival. Flickering on the lights, a counter is illuminated before you and on it sits a very familiar machine.

Your mouth drops open.

“You have your own coffee machine?!”

Jin laughs at your exasperation, chest rising and falling. You let out a loud scoff, stepping out of the room with him.

“Well, this kind of sucks.” You bring up, “Here I was asking you if you wanted a coffee break when you already have your own machine.”

“I would have still gone with you.” He says with a grin, glancing at his watch. “It is almost time for lunch and there’s a place I wanted to try nearby here.”

Your eyes flicker, “That sounds like a good idea.”

“I just need a couple of minutes to wrap up.” He glances back at his pile with a tinge of annoyance. “Just meet me down at reception.”

You nod in response, watching him stride back over to his desk as you head towards the door.

The call of your name halts you, and you glance at Jin.

He smirks, “Good discussion about the budget.”

You shake your head with a smile as he chuckles, spinning on your heels and yanking open the door.

***

You wait down on the first floor.

A couple of minutes pass by and sure enough, Jin appears in a frenzy. He apologizes for the delay, but you shake your head.

“It seemed like you were getting buried in paperwork.” You bring up, walking alongside him down the street.

“I was.” He retorts, pushing his hair back. “I’m just relieved to be out of there.”

“That bad?” You ponder.

He nods, “It’s never-ending. I finish one task and somehow another one pops up.”

You hum and he pauses, directing you towards the place he wanted to go. You peer at the shop in curiosity and he shrugs, mumbling that he heard they made pretty good sandwiches.

He ends up ordering as you search for a table, locating one at the far end. Once the food’s ready, he sits down with you, slumping into his seat.

A deep exhale leaves him and your brows furrow.

“How much of a toll is the CEO’ing taking on you?” You pique.

It’s not difficult to notice that Seokjin looks nothing short of utterly exhausted, despite appearing so put together.

“Is it that obvious?” A restrained chuckle leaves him, but the concern doesn’t leave your eyes, “It’s not…terrible. I suppose it could be worse.”

“You know you can take breaks, right?” You mention, “That you don’t have to get through everything.”

“I know, it’s just a bit complicated.” He looks up at you, “I have control over everything, which gives people the opportunity to criticize me as much as they want.”

You grimace at that, and he continues, “My only other choice is to get most of the work done quickly, but I have to give out confirmations, consult departments, attend meetings–” He lets out a long exhale, “Which is a lot of work, and the worst part of it all is that I can already see people trying to compare me to the previous CEO.”

Silence ensues and you simply just stare at him.

For a split-second, you could have sworn that it isn’t Jin sitting in front of you, the reckless intern who had stumbled into the office. Instead, he’s fully disappeared and now the person before you is a man who is the CEO of his own company, attempting his absolute best to fill in the big shoes his father has left.

“I can understand what you mean,” He glances at you, “About the training, how it was enough but there’s just so much to handle.”

“Exactly.” He simply states, staring down at his sandwich with heavy lids.

You’ve seen Jin at his absolute worst, his antics of quite literally running away from work and his very vocal opinions about how much he despises the mundaneness of the workplace. You’ve mentored him, tried your hardest to prepare him and luckily, even gotten into Soyou’s good books through the process.

But in the midst of this all being your job, you know his role isn’t one many can uphold.

It only serves your desire to speak up.

“Being CEO…you now have more eyes looking at you, rather than the other way around.” You begin, “But I think it’s always important to trust your own judgement in those types of situations.”

Jin keenly eyes you, “Running a company can also get...complicated. All the different departments act like important components that need to work together,” Your eyes brighten, “–almost like how you have people at a restaurant trying to work together.”

You wonder if you hit the nail on the nose too much, but Jin simply nods, understanding your words.

“Makes sense to me.”

You softly smile, “I also think it’s really unfair for someone to compare you to your dad’s work, or to already criticize you when you’ve just stepped up as CEO, especially when the company just recovered from a major loss with the recent product launch…”

You shrug, raising your hands innocently up in defense.

He has a half-smile at that.

“All things considered – I knew it was never going to be easy.” Glancing up at you, there’s a stern look in his eyes that you can’t recall ever seeing before, “–but I won’t try to run away or back down, not anymore.”

It clicks in for you. Since becoming CEO, not only is he more confident, but it’s almost like he has something to prove now, to prove to all those that assumed he wasn’t capable enough.

As someone that has witnessed all of his progress, you swell with joy and a fond smile spreads across your features.

“Besides–” His words draw you out of your thoughts, “I’m pretty sure I’ve learned quite a lot from this amazing mentor I had.”

He cheekily winks, and you snort. “I wonder who that could be?”

He pretends to be deep in thought, “I think it was someone from Sales and Finance. She helped me a lot, but was always in such awe from how handsome I am.”

You raise a brow, “Are you sure you aren't remembering that wrong?”

“I don’t think so.” He innocently says, but it earns a playful roll of your eyes, and he’s soon chuckling, amused by your reaction.

Taking a quick glance at your watch, both of you resume back to eating your sandwiches.

“This is really good.” Jin mentions, “I’m definitely going to come back here again.”

Your eyes flicker, something impassible running behind them.

“Would you say…it’s an ideal place? For eating out.”

He answers without much thought, “I think so.”

“And would you say…the interior is nice? The presentation of the food is good? Or maybe how attentive the staff are?” You innocently inquire.

A deep frown mars Jin’s features.

“That’s a lot of questions for a sandwich being good.” He retorts, eyeing you curiously. You blink wide-eyed, laughing a little too uneasily.

“I’m just curious, that’s all.”

“Just curious?” He wonders, and you nod immediately.

“Of course, you always talk about different restaurants you like.”

Jin stares at you for a moment, making your wide smile grow more nervous by the minute. But then he hums, and you want to let out an audible breath of relief.

“Well…” He mulls over it, “I guess I tend to like the places that usually have better management. Sometimes they’re just horribly understaffed.”

You nod, silently noting it, “There’s also the atmosphere they have, like I don’t want to be in a place that’s cramped or only indoors, you know?” “So an appropriate amount of staff and a spacious area, needs options for both indoor and outdoor interior.” You hurriedly mumble and Jin nods.

“Exactly, oh!” He leans forward, appearing dead serious. You lean forward as well, assuming he had a key point to discuss.

“I just hate it when the food sucks.”

You laugh, staring at him with a ‘really?’ expression. He points it out right away.

“What?”

You shake your head with a grin, “Nothing, it’s just something you would bring up for sure.”

“Well, I do cook, so I feel like I have some standards.” He mumbles underneath his breath, “The worst is when I feel like I can do a better job than them.”

“You honestly probably could.” You note, and he dramatically throws his arms up in exasperation.

“See?”

You smile at that, taking in all input with understanding as he unknowingly rambles. It confirms your suspicions that he had a very specific plan in mind, and it’s far off to say that’s completely undoable.

After all, it won’t be long until your own plans begin to move forward in action.

Something is up with you.

Jin can’t really place his finger on it, but it’s like the voice in the back of his head, nagging at him constantly.

There’s been moments where he’s strolling by your department, eyes glancing around to see if he can find you and Yoongi nearby – only for the two of you to be whispering to each other, your eyes darting around frantically.

That’s usually when you catch sight of him, quickly straightening up and giving him a warm smile.

It draws curiosity out of him, brows furrowing and expression contorting into utter confusion from the exchange. Heck, even Yoongi won’t make eye contact with him and although he’s very well aware that the man is simply too nonchalant at times, he would at least acknowledge him in the past.

He also can’t forget your abrupt inquiries, questions being thrown around about either his preferences or his mindset on staffing. On a normal occasion, he wouldn’t have minded answering them and gets excited for the chance to speak with you, but coupling it with the odd glances you and Yoongi keep sharing when he appears leaves him a bit…unsettled.

“What is going on?” He mumbles, crossing his arms and squinting his eyes. You and Yoongi are currently in his view, keeping your heads lowered and voices quiet.

“Something wrong?”

Turning around, Namjoon draws closer to him, glancing in the direction his gaze is resting in.

“It should be nothing–” Jin begins, “but I’m starting to get worried.”

“About what?”

“There’s a lot of…. secrecy going on…” He ponders, “–and for some reason, it dies down the moment I show up.”

“Well, everyone is working hard.” Namjoon points out, “Plus, you’re their CEO now.”

“Yes, but!” Jin whirls around abruptly, nearly startling Namjoon. “That’s with normal employees, not with ones I’ve personally known.”

Namjoon fidgets, unsure of how to answer. Jin spins around again, observing his surroundings.

There was a time the CFO recalls speaking to you about Jin, merely conversing about what you had noted about him during his training and it’s that moment he can remember your exact words.

“Seokjin is intelligent, Namjoon.” You mention. “More than he probably realizes. Sometimes I really wish he could see it himself.”

At the time, he had fondly smiled, knowing that you had pinpointed one of Jin’s biggest strengths. However, what he didn’t realize back then was just how much your simple thought was going to spiral into a whole lot of trouble.

Namjoon darts his eyes over, watching Jin still intently staring at your department. He’s about to tell his friend not to dwindle too much on the thought and to rather focus on his other responsibilities, but that’s when two other employees show up.

Hoseok and Taehyung emerge, appearing to have been called rather than passing by. And it's when you hurriedly gesture them over, getting them to duck their heads that Jin raises a brow.

“I know what’s going on.” He suddenly whispers, much to Namjoon’s sheer panic. The CFO wonders if he should just confess, not wanting to create a bigger misunderstanding for his friend.

Fortunately enough, he doesn’t have to.

“Namjoon,” Jin stares at him, words firm. “I think I’m being plotted against.”

Silence echoes between the two.

The CFO can’t even properly respond, just a mere “What?” spewing out.

“Think about it!” He harshly whispers, “The secrecy, all the questions!” Jin shakes his head, “I can’t believe I didn’t see it coming.”

You were right. Sometimes Jin doesn’t realize how truly intelligent he is.

Namjoon stands still, gawking at Jin with the longest face ever.

It’s a huge understatement to say that you’ve taken on a very easy task.

And perhaps the worst part of it all – attempting to hide it from Jin.

“Well?” You whisper to Yoongi, whose gaze is concentrated on the screen in front of him as he watches his inputed numbers spit out an output.

“I can already see the budget needing to be increased, but it’s doable.” He points to his monitor, tapping it. “Right here, this is how much funding is going to be needed.”

You peer at the amount, “That isn’t so bad. Might take a while to accumulate the funds, but not as long as I was estimating.”

Yoongi hums in agreement and you turn to him, “Thank you, I know this was a lot to ask of.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Yoongi replies, “He may be extremely dramatic, but I want the best for him too.”

You softly smile, wondering how far the days have gone from Yoongi grumbling about being pestered by Jin, to now attempting to help you with the systematics for his restaurant's plans.

Before you can say anything else, a new voice pitches through.

“How’s the plans going so far, guys?” Hoseok inquires, with Taehyung following behind him.

“Pretty good, so far.” You whisper, gesturing for them to get down low. You’ve noticed Jin has been frequenting your department quite a bit, and the last thing you need is to get any suspicions up high. “I consulted Namjoon about it as well, and he told me he would want to invest into the finances, but as long as the permits can get solidified.”

Hoseok nods, “Which means I need you to help me out with the staffing issues.”

You glance at Taehyung, “Any assistance with the design and branding is appreciated too.”

“Roger that.”

Hoseok chuckles, “You’re really something, Y/N. I can’t believe you’re willing to go to this extent.”

You give him a knowing look, “After I saw what plans he had, I knew there was a possibility of making them a reality and I had to try.”

“Nothing wrong with attempting.” Yoongi mutters, gaze still fixated with the numbers. “I think this should be enough for Namjoon, I’ll send him the report.”

You nod and Hoseok tells you he’ll get back to you soon, with Taehyung agreeing as well.

As they depart, you can recall debating whether or not to ask the others for help. You had even pondered with Namjoon about it, and ultimately decided that not only would it be difficult to do alone, but you would need a group of people with good expertise to trust it with.

To your surprise, everyone was on board when you brought it up. They mentioned that they wanted to provide assistance somehow and that they too, just like you, wanted to help Jin if they could.

From there, all the pieces started falling in place and you’re thrilled to finally reveal it all to Jin.

You just can’t wait to see how he’ll react.

Jin walks back and forth within his office, arms crossed with a deep frown on his features.

“What if they want someone else to be CEO? To take over instead?” He mutters, “Maybe they already have a replacement…”

Namjoon can only watch, wondering how on earth his dear friend was able to come up with such a theory.

He was quite taken aback when you had initially brought up the idea to him, but came to realize that it would be a great opportunity for Jin to be able to run a business venture of his own. You had informed him that you would handle all the aspects related to planning, and would give him consistent updates. His role was to then take the planning aspects and provide tangible aspects, aka assisting with the initial investment and finding a suitable location.

He really wanted to help Jin in his own way. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to be of much assistance through his progress in becoming CEO, but at least now, he can do something for his friend.

However, he’s clueless on what to say to said friend as he continues to spiral.

Namjoon takes a deep breath, “You’ve worked really hard.” Jin stops in his pacing tracks, peering up. “You’ve also worked well with the employees at Kim Electronics, establishing a personal relationship with them.”

He continues, “If anything, some of them at least know who their CEO is, rather than being distant from you. It's something I wished I could have had when I became the CFO. A lot of those working here don’t really know me and it can make getting to know them a bit difficult.”

Jin straightens up, letting out a hum. “I can see what you mean…”

Namjoon smiles, glad they were on the same pag–

“Can the CEO interrogate people?”

His smile drops and Jin raises a defensive hand.

“I’m just wondering, that’s all!”

“Are you sure about that?” Namjoon quirks up a brow and Jin’s about to rebuttal, but the door to his office creaks open.

Secretary Moon stands before them, staring at Namjoon. “One of the financial analysts was looking for you, CFO Kim.”

Realization fills Namjoon’s eyes, “Oh, right.”

Yoongi stands behind Secretary Moon, eying him intently with a report in his hands.

The exchange doesn’t escape Jin’s keen eyes, finding it especially intriguing that Yoongi would come out of his own accord to find Namjoon.

“What did you two need to talk about?” He sharply wonders.

“It’s confidential.” – “Just a report I needed.”

Namjoon and Yoongi glance at each other in surprise, having used two very different responses. Jin is as observant as ever, leaning forward.

“How interesting.” He says, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

Namjoon begins, “Seokjin–”

“If you let us go, I’ll admit that your dad jokes are actually funny.” Yoongi states, holding the most deadpan expression ever.

Namjoon’s eyes widen at that and Yoongi barely flinches, even when there’s a smug grin working its way up to Jin’s features.

He straightens up, “You have yourself a deal.”

Yoongi hums and Namjoon turns to exit with him, looking at the latter completely impressed.

Three weeks fly by with a breeze.

Jin believes he’s finally gotten a grasp on things, understanding the different operations of the company and his role in all of them. He’s able to at least now communicate with them accordingly and able to manage several components, a job he has come to realize has him at the forefront at all times.

He wonders how his father managed to do all this and have a family life at the same time, his hands always being preoccupied with sudden incidents and plenty of decision making.

The clock has finally struck 5pm and Jin is truthfully grateful to call it a day. Luckily for today, there have been no last minute calls, no people abruptly beckoning for his attention. Packing up his belongings, he yanks open the door leaving his office.

Namjoon stands in front of his office, eyes glued to his watch.

His eyes snap up at Jin’s appearance.

He smiles knowingly, “Tired?”

“You can say that.” Jin heavily responds, “I’m just relieved the day’s finally over.”

“You don’t have any plans after work, right?” Namjoon inquires, to which Jin shakes his head. “We should grab dinner.”

That catches him by surprise. If anything, he knew Namjoon was just like him – constantly busy managing his own hectic schedule and never truly having any free time on his hands.

He narrows his eyes, “You’re not conspiring against me too, are you?”

A chuckle leaves Namjoon and he shakes his head. The glint of suspicion doesn’t leave Jin’s eyes, but he nonetheless follows alongside behind the CFO.

Exiting the company building, he continues to follow as Namjoon takes a different pathway, one closer to the less busier areas near the company and away from watchful eyes. Jin peers around, a little bewildered with the path and wondering what he could have picked that was so far away.

It takes about fifteen minutes of walking, with him directing several questions to Namjoon that the latter keeps either dismissing or giving vague answers. Jin eventually gives up, dragging himself along until the man takes an abrupt right turn.

Because the moment he does, Jin spots you, Yoongi, Hoseok and Taehyung.

You’re all conversing with one another, grouped together in front of what seems to be a vacant store lot.

Curiosity spikes up inside him, and he hurriedly paces behind Namjoon.

He’s almost tempted to joke that there’s no way they could eat at a place that looks so barren – but then you spot them, your eyes lighting up immediately.

“Hope the distance wasn’t too much for you.” You remark, glancing at him.

“The distance?” He ponders, not quite understanding what you meant. That’s when he takes in the group once again, realizing that the pair was quite peculiar for the people that were being so secretive around him.

“Wait a minute…” He whispers, eyes widening dramatically at Namjoon.

He snaps his fingers. “Aha, I knew it! The conspiracy was right!”

You raise a brow, “Conspiracy?”

“To take me down as CEO!”

“Wait, what?” Hoseok peers from behind you, a ㅅfrown maring his lips. Next to him, Taehyung appears utterly confused and Yoongi snorts under his breath.

He comes up behind you, patting your back. “Good luck in trying to explain.”

You roll your eyes at Yoongi. Letting out a sigh, you wonder where to begin.

“So I’m not sure how you got the idea of a conspiracy, but in any case, no one is conspiring against you.” You clarify right away.

Jin stares at you a bit puzzled, but Taehyung pitches through. “Y/N’s right! Why would we try to take you down after training you, Mr. CEO?”

“If anything, the only conspiracy here is this.”

Yoongi points behind him, gesturing for you to explain as Jin gazes at it blankly.

“Remember when I came by your office and ran into your secretary?” He nods, “Well, I might have accidentally knocked over some of your files and seen them…”

An apologetic look flashes over your features, acknowledging that it was sudden but regardless, not something you were originally supposed to see. “I’m really sorry about that, but I came across your plans for a new restaurant.”

A spark of recognition flickers in Jin’s eyes and you take a step back, widening your arms in front of the vacant store.

“I saw potential in it and with some help from a couple of very talented individuals,” You make eye contact with Yoongi, Taehyung and Hoseok, “and much needed guidance from the CFO,” You smile at Namjoon, a smile he returns, “I wanted to see if we could possibly give you a head start on it.”

Jin stiffens in place, feet remaining glued to the ground.

He harshly inhales, letting out a whisper. “There’s no way…”

Turning around, his eyes are racking all over the vacant store before him. The location you’ve chosen is in a popular area, surrounded by local stores but not too close to any nearby major restaurants for there to be competition. The area itself is small, but he guesses that it was accounted for from the rough budget he had estimated and took into consideration any exceeding costs.

Lastly, it’s not too far from the company. Meaning that if he needs to briefly visit he can, and that there’s plenty of office workers that wouldn’t mind dropping in for lunch or dinner.

In other words – it’s perfect.

You take the thick file Yoongi hands you, before walking up to him. Jin snaps out his daze, eyes still glossed over when you hand it over to him.

“It’s full of reports and drafted contracts,” You explain, “Which includes a location permit, staffing arrangements, lists of decorators and information about potential expenses.”

He slips through the pages immediately, observing not only his rough plans outlined, but all the additional information added in as well. It’s like you took his basic initial idea and simply given it the assistance it desperately needed – with all the departments pitching in their own individual perspectives amongst your coworkers.

His idea was implemented into much more than he could have possibly imagined.

“I…I’m speechless.” He manages to mutter out, hands tightly gripping onto the file.

Looking up, his gaze meets yours, a question lingering on his lips. “Why do all this for me…?”

You softly smile, already knowing that would be his first thought.

“Well, you seemed really stressed with all the CEO duties,” You honestly admit, “and after seeing your restaurant plans, it was like you knew exactly what you wanted, but were just having trouble actualizing it.”

He hums, knowing that in a way he got stuck. After his training period had started, and then he had to become CEO, he figured he would have to leave the idea completely on the back burner, needing to make the company his number one priority now.

But you have other plans for him.

He’s teased you plenty of times before, mentioning how much you were a workaholic or that you didn’t know how to have fun. But beneath all that, he acknowledges that you’re extremely hardworking and that your work is always nothing short from impressive.

“Consider it a gift from your mentoring team.” You grin, gesturing to the others who smile back at him.

“T-Thank you…to all of you.” He glances around, voice thick with emotion, “I don’t just know how many thank you’s would be enough…”

You pat his arm, “Just invite us over when you open. I’m curious to see what kind of dishes you come up with.”

“Of course.” He grins, eyes brimming with warmth.

Namjoon taps his shoulder, his phone in hand.

“Stand a bit back, I’ll take a picture of you.”

Jin smiles widely in front of the store and the flash on Namjoon’s phone goes off. However, his eyes twinkle, gaze finding you observing the place with Hoseok and muttering something along the lines of how a draping effect would look nice on the restaurant.

It’s not long before your wrist is being tugged on.

Nearly stumbling, you glance up at Jin with a frown. He’s grinning ear to ear, gesturing for you to stand right beside him.

You immediately retract, hands raised in defense.

“Jin, it’s your restaurant– “

“That you helped make a reality.” He cheekily finishes, causing you to let out a defeated sigh. Leaning over, he gestures to the three individuals still staring at the store. “That includes all of you too!”

Within minutes, everyone is being pushed into a picture that Namjoon takes with a smile. Eventually, Jin even states that he should be in it too, leaving the phone balancing on the ground as everyone tries to fit in.

“I can’t believe I got to take a picture with the CEO.” Taehyung proudly boasts, causing Hoseok to laugh at his posture.

“Well, you did have a hand in me becoming CEO.” Jin notes.

“See?” Taehyung chides to Yoongi, “Even the CEO doesn’t undermine my contributions!”

“Again, you barely trained him for that long.” The latter states.

“Wasn’t it only a couple of days?” Hoseok ponders, only for him to laugh when Taehyung dramatically pouts.

“Don’t listen to them, you got the CEO stamp of approval.” Jin waves off and Taehyung grins.

Yoongi shakes his head. “If anything, I think Y/N did most of the heavy lifting.”

You peer at Yoongi, wanting to retaliate that everyone had a role to play within the team, but Jin completely beats you to it.

“She really is amazing.” Your eyes widen as he gazes at you. “I’m not only lucky to have gotten her as a mentor, but also as an incredible role model.”

Quickly averting your eyes from the sudden attention, you attempt to look at anything else – until Taehyung pitches in with a ‘Give it up for Y/N!’.

Everyone cheers as you bashfully look away.

“Alright, that’s enough.” You wave off, desperate for them to stop and Hoseok chuckles at your timid expression.

As he turns to Yoongi, Jin inches closer to you and softly smiles.

“Thank you.”

“How many times are you going to say that?” You let out a laugh, pointing behind you at the group. “You know, you even got Yoongi’s approval at this point.”

Jin’s eyes widen dramatically, watching Yoongi smiling and staring at the store.

He places a hand against his chest, whispering underneath his breath. “He really does love me.”

A fit of laughter escapes you at that and he joins in as well, his hand unconsciously grasping onto yours. It takes a couple of seconds for either of you to realize and when you do, Jin pulls away almost immediately, a hue of pink on his complexion.

When he profusely apologizes, you give him a soft smile and wave it off, gyrating around to join Hoseok. Jin watches as you interact with them, laughing at something Yoongi said, head tilting to the side and eyes warmly crinkling.

He’s left gazing at you, something fluttering within his chest. It only seems to grow the more he hears your laughter, and the more he focuses on your charming smile.

Your eyes catch his gaze, and soon you’re calling out his name, confusion etched on your features. You gesture for him to join the group, and he snaps out of his daze, blinking abruptly.

Coming to stand next to you, he wonders if his heart always raced when you were around him.

Something is terribly wrong.

That’s all Namjoon can think as he’s pacing through the office, orbs surveying around. It’s not until he’s right in front of the CEO’s office that he can finally catch his breath, a sheen of sweat having formed on his forehead.

The door comes bustling open.

“What’s the emergency?!” He immediately asks, only to see Jin slumped in his chair.

He bolts upright once he catches sight of Namjoon, eyes frantic and hands trembling.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here!”

“What happened?!” Namjoon hurriedly asks.

“That’s the problem, I don’t know what’s wrong!” Jin exclaims, fisting his hair.

“What do you mean?” It serves to cause Namjoon more distress. “Are you sick? Do you feel nauseous?”

“I told you, I don’t know!” Jin shakes his head, “My heart is racing, I feel flustered, I’m doubting if I’m even handsome–” He throws his arms up into the air, “My symptoms are endless!”

Namjoon straightens up, staring at him with the most blank expression ever.

“I’m sorry, what are your symptoms?”

Jin exhales in exasperation, “Do you want me to repeat myself? I said my heart is racing, I feel–”

“No, no,” Namjoon raises a hand up, “I mean, you called me here because you’re experiencing… normal symptoms?”

“What do you mean normal?!” He questions, eyes suddenly widening, “Do you think it might be a heart attack?”

Namjoon’s about to retort that his symptoms are nowhere near those for one, but then Jin’s words echo deep in his brain.

“My heart is racing, I feel flustered, I’m doubting if I’m even handsome–”

The dots finally start to connect.

“Wait…are you feeling these symptoms for someone in particular?” Namjoon emphasizes it as much as he can, curiosity in his eyes.

“What? No!” He crosses his arms, glancing away. Namjoon stares at him, having known his friend for a very long time.

He softly smiles, “I think you may be having a heart attack, just not the kind you’re thinking.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I think you’re having feelings for someone.”

Jin scoffs, “That’s impossible! Maybe I just need to take some medicine.”

Before Jin has a chance to search around his office, Namjoon leans against the wall, his smile not dropping.

The next words he says have Jin choking on air.

“It’s Y/N, isn’t it?”

“What?! Don’t be ridiculous!” The ends of his ears are red, something the CFO is quick to point out.

“Are you sure about that?” He probes, “You know, it was always interesting to me.” He steps closer to Jin, keenly eyeing him. “The two of you had established a good work relationship and you seemed to be very compatible.”

“There’s no way.” Jin shakes his head in frustration, waving Namjoon off, “I need to get back to work!”

Namjoon simply smiles, turning to exit the office. He doesn’t say anything else, knowing that it was quite obvious what his friend was feeling.

He just needed to realize it himself.

***

It doesn’t make sense, not in the least.

Jin walks down the street, heading towards the restaurant location after work. He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

How could he have feelings for you?

You were his mentor before anything else, getting into playful banter with him throughout training. He can admit he sees you more like a friend now, but the notion that he liked you?

It's just completely absurd.

He decides to throw the thoughts away, ignoring Namjoon’s echoing words. However, once he makes a sharp right turn, he falls short in his tracks.

You’re standing right in front of the store, staring at it.

He’s prepared to swerve around, head back to the company if he can – but you catch sight of him before he can ensure his escape route.

The corner of your lips curl and he swears he can hear his own heartbeat at this point.

“Came to check out the location?” You ponder innocently.

“Y-Yeah.” He smiles, a tad bit nervously. “You?”

“I was waiting for the bus.” You gesture to the stop nearby, “Thought I come see it again.”

He hums, standing next to you. However, this time he feels as if he’s too aware of you being next to him, eyes averting over to you every couple of seconds.

It’s only when you wistfully sigh that his shoulders hike up. “Do you think it’s okay for you? The area, I mean.”

“Well, you guys did find it for me,” He honestly answers, “And taking all things into consideration, you picked it nicely.”

You softly smile, “Leave it up to Namjoon to determine the profitability of an area.”

He chuckles quietly, recalling how much his friend was once drilling into his brain the importance of location for franchises.

“I just can’t believe my dream of running a restaurant is coming true.” He admits, “Hopefully, I can do it justice.”

“You can.” You respond immediately, finding yourself understanding his doubt. It’s one thing that surprised you the most about Jin, how the man was the walking epitome of confidence only to doubt himself immensely. “And if things do get tough….I’ll just have to stick around by your side and help you.”

You chuckle underneath your breath, a warm smile looping around your lips. But you’re only greeted with silence, something that has you raising a brow when you’re so used to Jin’s short and playful quips.

You’re caught off guard by his gaze, focused completely on you. Letting out an awkward cough, you call out his name.

“Uh, Jin?” You wonder, “You okay?”

“Huh?” He blurts out, suddenly realizing that you’re observing him with a questioning stare in your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good to know.” You playfully remark, smiling in his direction. In that split second, everything falls into place, making it as clear as water to him.

He’s in trouble. Deep, deep trouble.

Namjoon was right.

He’s fallen in love with you.

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