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#i called this piece ‘Nowhere Man’
kissitbttr · 5 months
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a very tired miguel who gets home from work and gets babied by his woman
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It's close to 9pm as you're lying on your bed. keeping your focus on the book you're reading, one that you failed to keep as a part of your routine due to your busy schedule with work. being a fashion designer has it's perks but it also has its dark sides too. especially when it comes to dealing with snobby ass clients
as you are about to flip to another page, you hear the front door opened. keys rattling against the ceramic bowl with a loud sigh follows after. a soft smile appears on your face soon as you realize who it is
“miguel? Is that you?” you softly call out your husband’s name while putting the book down.
"si, mi amor" he appears shortly by the doorway. your tall and handsome fiancee adorned in an unbuttoned white shirt that showcase a bit of his chest and paired with black trousers. a simple work attire but never fail to make your knees wobble. the sight could put any Greek Gods known to a man to shame.
your heart breaks a little seeing how tired he looks. his eye-bags are coming off too strong. a constant reminder on how he has been working himself far too hard despite you telling him to take it easy. but that's just how he is, stubborn.
"how's work my love?" you ask, watching him undress himself, revealing his exposed toned chest before putting the clothes away with the rest of his dirty ones in the bathroom. "I take it, it wasn't a good day?"
"you could say that" he replies tiredly, grabbing a pair of sweatpants off the chair and slipping it on. "trying to get ahold with the new recruits is a fucking job, Peter's been getting on my nerves and I'm working on advancing the technology we have right now in order for it to be easier to identify every single anomaly's DNA we've come across to. But the amount of hypotheses and research I've done are nowhere near close to how I want them to be."
"i would ask Tony Stark for help but que cabron esta muerto" he breathes out a sigh, pinching the thick skin between his brows. "I'm drained, mi amor... i can't fucking do this shit everytime--"
"no hey.. stop" you shake your head, hate having to see your man fronting a distressed look in his face. “come here, Miggy” you pout at him patting your chest for him to lay his head,
he sighs heavily. plopping into the bed and carefully lays himself on top of you. pounding head finding comfort in the warmth of your chest, snaking his big arms around your waist.
you put your arms around him, locking him tightly as your soft lips kiss his forehead making him purr.
“my pretty baby. exhausted aren't you? hm?” you ask in a cooing tone. he hums -- which sounded like a growl to you-- with a nod before nuzzling himself closer. “oh my poor poor baby... my handsome man. always working himself to the bone” another kiss on the forehead
“come up a little closer, hm?” you ask as he barely shifts his body. too lazy and far too comfortable in your arms like this for him to move.
you run your fingers through his soft hair, moving a piece that’s covering his forehead. looking down to see him close his eyes, yet not sleeping.
it’s so funny to see how this freakishly large- broad man who always seems to bring a cold presence that scares everyone off at work—which is technically true— then turns into a huge softie and a love puddle for you in a split seconds.
it’s truly a privilege that you’re the only one who gets to see and feel this
“look how cute you are, baby… do you know how cute you are, hm?” you coo at him, lips kissing his nose and the sharpness of his cheekbone. trying your best to console him in hopes of washing his stress away.
he lightly shakes his head. “no” a curt reply rolls of his mouth, drawing your body closer to him if that's even possible.
you pretend to gasp dramatically at his answer. fingers still stroking his hair lightly. “you don’t?! oh no! we have to fix that! you’re the cutest *kiss* most handsome *kiss* hardworking *kiss* man I’ve ever known” showering him with compliments in between kisses. he breathes out a small chuckle that muffles against your chest.
it’s obvious that miguel rarely gets treatments like this, he’s no one to shy from things but you're his only exception. the only person who truly can get him blush like a little kid when he's shown the slightest bit of affection.
“who’s baby are you hm? are you my baby?” a smile graces your lips as your eyes casting down to his pretty features.
“me. I’m your baby” he mumbles, tightening his grip around you. "always be your baby"
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inspired by @webslingingslasher their frat!peter work yall is making me [REDACTED] please go take a look!!
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the-hidden-pages · 6 months
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Kinktober Day 1 - 'Love' Bites | Overstimulation - Astarion x Fem!Reader
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Love bites | Overstimulation | Impact play
Coming out the gates strong with 3500+ words for this man. It has not been edited, I have work in the morning, I'm going to bed.
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Summary: With the promise of taking you to a quiet little piece of nowhere to forget all the madness of the adventure, Astarion pulls out all the stops to ensure you forget everything, except the pleasure he gives you.
Warnings: NSFW, Blood, Vampire Kink, Overstimulation, Crying, Light Choking, Dirty Talk
You and Astarion had always had an arrangement.
To say you bonded quickly with your party would be an understatement - having the tadpole within your mind and surviving the same crash tends to form that immediate trauma bond. But you and the vampire had formed a deeper understanding of each other much sooner than the others.
That night, so early on in your adventure, when you awoke to the man perched over you, fangs bared and your throat exposed for the taking, things simply couldn’t go back to the status quo.
It fogged your mind the entirety of the next day, the proximity, the adrenaline, the pure, undiluted hunger.
You’ve allowed him to feed from you every night since.
You played it off as trust, at first. Trust in him, a want to have him fully strengthened for battle. Nothing but business.
But it didn’t take long for him to understand your underlying motivation, the reason you allowed yourself to feel drained, exhausted, and weak for each battle moving forward, perpetually distracted by the memory of his lips and teeth at your neck. The memory welcomed the fantasies with open arms, fantasies of his hands wandering as he drank, kissing your lips with your own blood on his own, his fangs sinking into your thighs, before wandering higher…
Still, you were never going to force it. 
So, you allowed him to continue to drink, both aware of the growing tension, both refusing to move further.
Until that changed.
When Astarion came to you, offering for you both to find a “little piece of nowhere”, somewhere to “forget all this madness”, you sure as hell weren’t about to decline.
A chance to get him out of your head was exactly what you needed to think clearly.
Night had long since fallen, as you sat pretending to read one of many absurd tomes Gale had collected throughout the journey. A life of adventuring doesn’t make for the most consistent sleep schedule, and as such awaiting for the entire party to call it a night was practically torment as you tried to ignore the growing heat between your legs.
But no amount of pretending to study the Oral Histories of Faerun could distract you from wondering what pleasures tonight would bring.
When finally, finally, Karlach decided to call it a night, you waited a few moments more before creeping off to where Astarion had told you to meet him.
Any other night it may have been eerie, creeping through the woods unarmed  as the moon rose high in the sky. But all you could feel was the anticipation growing, humming in every nerve of your body like someone had struck you with a Witch Bolt.
Your heart nearly stopped as movement caught your eye.
There, emerging from the trees, already shirtless, was the vampire.
You had seen him in various states of undress before - curing wounds of various weapons and spells will do that. But there was something different about it in this circumstance, seeing him perfectly unscathed, strong and confident from the weeks of draining your life from your veins, silver hair and pale skin hauntingly beautiful in the moonlight.
“There you are,” he spoke lowly, striding slowly towards you. “I’ve been waiting. Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you.”
While the words themselves made you blush, you couldn’t help comment.
“The moment you set eyes on me you had a knife to my throat.”
“Ah,” he sighed, walking slowly around you, bringing his fingers to lightly trail up your arm. “But if you remember, I did notice then and there what a darling neck you had, I just knew it would be heavenly.”
He closed the distance between you, and you could promptly feel his strong form cold against your back, a prominent bulge pressing into you, and his breath on your neck making you lightheaded.
His hand trailed down your neck to trace the marks he had been leaving nightly. “And I was right.”
Despite how little he had done, you had grown so wound up from the endless fantasies from his nights of feeding that you were already weak in the knees.
His left hand lightly began to caress your thigh, as his right takes to untying the strings of your loose shirt, his mouth never stopping.
“You’ve been so helpful these last few weeks darling, allowing me for the first time to indulge in the blood of a human, giving me strength at your expense. You’ve been so good for me too, holding back all those little sounds you’ve been wanting to make, pretending like you don’t get wet just at the thought of me drinking from you, like you don’t get soaked from the moment my lips touch your neck. Hmm?”
Your breathing was already heavy, your thighs already squeezing together in some attempt for stimulation - it was already too much. All you could do was nod, a breathy “yes” escaping you as your shirt is undone, falling to the forest floor.
His hands begin to explore, lightly tracing up your arms, down your stomach, across your collarbone. “And you’ve been working so hard, haven’t you my love? To keep us alive, to keep us all going. You’ve been so helpful to all of us, to me, I think it’s time I take some weight off of those pretty little shoulders.”
Suddenly, forcefully, he spins you around, steadying you by grabbing your hips. You look into the red eyes that gaze at you intently, with an emotion that is so close to something like love, devotion, but feeling just slightly too forced, slightly too uncanny.
That gaze is a problem for another day, you determine, as he sinks to his knees and gazes up at you, untying your trousers.
After all, the love may not be real, but the lust in his eyes sure as hell is.
He makes slow work of the fabric, speaking up at you the entire time.
“Dearest, I intend to do exactly as I promised. I want to repay you for the kindness you’ve given me, the trust you’ve placed in me. Allow me to please you, to make you forget about everything, if only for a night. Will you allow me this?”
You nodded, mutely, as you stepped out of your pants.
He gazed up at you again, eyes drinking you in, darkening as they travel up your body, stopping at between your legs, your chest, your neck.
When his eyes met yours again, he stood up quickly, cupping your cheek and pulling you into a deep kiss.
You had thought about this moment too often.
What he would taste like, how his fangs would feel against your tongue, how his lips would feel against yours. He pulled you into him desperately, and the sensation of your bare chest against his made your head spin, gasping into the kiss as he took full control, kissing you with such a passion that you might have thought there was more to it than a simple need for release, repayment.
He pulled away all too soon, thumb caressing your lower lip as he gazed at you in that absurdly sultry way of his.
“Before I take your breath away,” he breathed out, pausing to kiss your cheek. “I need to know what you want from me darling.” Another pause, a kiss to the jaw now. “Tell me how to please you.” A kiss behind the ear. “Tell me how to make you scream.”
You were barely keeping it together, eyes already fluttering closed.
A sharp bite to the neck, not enough to bleed, but enough to make you gasp, brought you out of it. His red eyes gazed at you intently, awaiting your response.
“I want you to take control,” you speak, feeling as though you’re giving a confession. “I don’t want to think. I want you to drain me of my blood, of my thoughts. Make me cum, make me scream, make me feel so good it hurts, until I’m begging you to stop, Astarion.”
“Oh, darling,” he nearly growled, his hand caressing your cheek. “I'll do just that.”
He spun you again, once again catching you off guard. Within moments, you feel him press up against you again, this time the hardness of his cock being released from his pants, discarded far into the forest you assumed. 
“You mustn’t keep a sound from me, by the way,” he spoke lightly. “I’ll know if you do.”
You aren’t allowed much time to consider that as you feel his lips on your neck, pecking and lightly biting and sucking. His hands trail upwards to cup your breasts, slowly, softly, deeply massaging, as though he’s trying to feel every inch of your skin. His fingers lightly pinch and tug against your peaks, and he leaves soft bites on your neck, never enough to break the skin.
It had only been moments, but you’re whining, and you can feel your wetness dripping down your thigh.
“Astarion, please,” you breathe, hand coming up to lace in his hair in an attempt to force him deeper into your neck.
He just laughed. “Darling I’ve barely touched you and you’re begging. Allow me to take my time with you.”
His left hand stays at your breast as his right once again wanders downward, slowly reaching your inner thigh.
“I can smell it, you know,” he muttered lowly in your ear, and you almost squeak, flushed with embarrassment. “Every time you’re so wet you can barely think, stuck in your little fantasies as I drink from you. You do so well, hiding your wants from me, but I’ve always known, and I’ve always wanted to push it further, to let my hand wander between your pretty little legs and feel just how wet for me you are…”
As he takes a pause, his fingers reach your folds, lightly caressing up and down, circling your clit, and you both sigh.
“Astarion…”
“Hells, you want me so badly don’t you?”
“Please.”
“Oh, I’m not here to deny you, angel. I’ll give you everything you want…”
Without warning, two of his slender, delightfully long digits enter you, and you release a moan louder than you expected.
“Very good,” he praised, fingers thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace, as he resumed his work on your neck. He continued to suck and bite, no doubt leaving a myriad of bruises and marks that you would have to explain away tomorrow.
He growls again, biting a little harder, though still not hard enough to draw any blood, you notice. His fingers within you speed up, spreading in a way that has you choking out another moan.
“I can hear you thinking, darling. That’s not what we want now, is it?”
“No - fuck, there,” you moan deeper, head tilting back as his fingers reach a place in you that is forever out of your reach.
“Oh, good girl,” he purrs, focusing on that one spot. “Good girl, telling me what you want. Focus on your body, darling, not your thoughts. Feel me against you, feel me in you, feel how badly you need that release.”
“Astarion please.”
“Please what, darling?”
“Bite me harder.”
“Oh, not yet my sweet. We have all night for that, and I would quite like to sample the nectar between your thighs before tasting your heavenly blood. But I’ve left such a wonderful piece of work on your neck, now everyone at the camp will know now more than ever that you’re mine.”
“Fuck,” you gasp out, feeling the waves of heat overcome you and your thighs begin to collapse, your release hitting hard and fast at his use of possessive language.
“Very good, darling,” he praised, holding you up as your vision spun. His fingers didn’t cease as you came, immediately riling you back up, moans spilling out of you louder than before. You hadn’t noticed when he had added a third finger, but you felt the stretch as he pushed in, the emptiness when he pulled out.
You needed more, and he was clearly eager to give it to you.
“Lie down, my darling,” he whispered in your ear. “Allow me to worship you further.”
You did so without hesitation, resting back on a relatively flat portion of the forest floor, spreading your legs as Astarion knelt down, bringing your legs up on to his shoulders and staring down hungrily at you.
Despite the ferocity in his eyes, he took his time, kissing from your ankle to your thigh on your left leg, and then your right. The moment you felt your frustration grow to a peak, he bit down, once again leaving marks but never breaking the skin, marking the soft flesh of your thigh.
He teased you for a few moments before the impatience struck him as well, and leaned forward further, licking a long stripe up your folds.
“Oh darling, and I thought your blood was heavenly,” he breathed, and before you could respond, he went to work.
Immediately your hands were in his hair, pulling and pushing in some attempt to regain any sort of sanity in this moment. His tongue worked wonders, knowing exactly how to work inside you before retreating, teasing at your clit, before the vicious cycle repeated. His hands clenched your thighs as though they were a life line, and the moans that left him traveled into the depths of your core.
It didn’t take long, you were already falling over the edge again, now shouting as the pleasure grew blinding.
“I could stay here forever,” you could barely hear him lament, mind fogged. You blinked blearily as you focused on his face that was now above yours, glistening with your release as he grinned ferally, hand briefly coming up to clench at your throat. “But I have more planned for you.”
Despite your exhaustion, you feel the warmth in your core grow, another release of slick as his cock presses up against your folds.
“May I, pet?”
All you can do is moan pathetically, something between “yes” and “please” falling out of you as you weakly nod.
“Darling, you’re a vision,” once again, he strokes your cheek, uncharacteristically loving for the cold vampire. “Completely fucked out, and we haven’t even arrived at the main course.”
With that, you feel him enter you, no resistance give how worked up you are.
You take a moment, joined, as he breathes heavily into your neck and you let out quiet moans, words completely failing you.
“Divine,” he breathes, returning to kiss your neck, the sensitivity of it making you clench around him immediately. “Oh, so divine, darling I could have you for eternity, such a better use of our time than fighting all of these tiresome battles.”
He began to pump in and out of you slowly, your mind spinning from the weight of him on top of you, the sensation of being fucked so deeply, overwhelmed by the afterglow of all that had happened.
And still his words didn’t cease.
“I could keep you forever, a precious little pet, tied to the bed to fuck whenever I wanted. Or perhaps the other way around, I would wait an eternity just for another chance to taste you, to please you. Whatever fantasy you wish darling, we can fulfill it tonight, I swear to you - fuck.”
He picks up the pace as you clench around him yet again, your release not even having a build up, but instead crashing against you like a tsunami. You feel the wetness seep down your thighs, coating where the pair of you connect.
“Ast-ar…” you can barely breathe, and he laughs almost maniacally.
“Very good, darling, just like that. Give in to me. You don’t need a single thought in that head now, focus only on me and let go. You can cum again, you can, for me.”
“Can’t - I can’t…”
“Oh, you can and you will, if you want me to drink from you tonight,” he muttered darkly, and you feel tears prick in the corner of your eyes.
“Astarion.”
“You have to cum again, to get what you want. Just one more time, my darling. One more and you’ll please me so well. You want to be good for me, don’t you?”
You muster up the last of the strength you have, words falling from you without control. 
“Yes, fuck, yes please, Astarion, please I want to come, I want you to bite me, I need to be yours, I need you ~”
It was almost as though your last orgasm hadn’t ended, with how quickly this one had began. An endless torrent that had the tears breaking, pouring down your face and into the dirt. You nearly choked out a scream, clenching around him so tightly that you feel Astarion tense, cursing wildly as you feel a warmth flood you.
You take a moment, trying with all your might to remember how to breathe, mouth gaping, expecting Astarion to move from you any moment.
Instead you shriek as he thrusts again, hand once again curled around your neck, stopping any chance you had at catching your breath.
“We aren’t done,” he growled, your own slick and his cum leaking out of you as he continued to fuck you, harder now, less restrained that before, nothing but pathetic whimpers leaving you. “We are so far from done, my love. You’re mine, you’re mine.”
Finally, what you had been begging for all night came to pass, and his fangs sunk deep into that claimed spot of your neck. You felt the familiar warmth and euphoria as your blood drained into his hungry mouth, his moans reaching a crescendo and hips moving at an inhumane pace.
And he was right.
You were his, blood and body and mind, it was all his. He had consumed every inch of you.
It was incredible, it was numbing, all you could think about was Astarion. Every molecule of you was on fire, and screamed to be connected to him, to never leave this moment, to stay in an eternity of this torment, but after four orgasms and on the verge of a fifth, with the ecstasy of his fangs in your neck, you simply couldn’t continue.
“Too much,” you manage to croak out, tears streaming down your cheeks and your entire body screaming. Your hands grip the vampire's arms tightly when he doesn’t immediately stop, nails biting into his skin. “Too much, stop!”
Immediately the fangs retract and he’s gently pulling out of you, red eyes wide with a hint of a rare expression on his face.
Fear.
“Darling I’m so sorry, did I take too much? I felt you going limp but, hells you’re so delicious I must have been lost in it-”
You shook your head quickly, placing a hand on his chest as you tried to collect your thoughts, tears still streaming.
“No, no, no,” you breathe out, still gasping. “Not the blood, you’re alright. It was too much, I really can’t cum again, it's too much. Too much good, I promise.”
The fear melted away to a more familiar expression, a smug smirk. 
“Oh darling,” he purred, hand trailing up and down your inner thigh in a soothing but teasing manner. “I don’t know about that, you can still manage full sentences. Clearly too much brain power left…and I could go all night.”
“Astarion.”
A rare, genuine chuckle left the man as he began softly stroking your arm and playing with your hair, easing you down from your intense high.
When your breathing leveled out, he began to stand up, and you nearly whined.
Sensing your distress, he waved lightly. “I’ll be but a moment.”
He sauntered away, and you laid back, taking the moment to look up at the stars, basking in the glow of the orgasms and the moon.
He really had done his job, you had to admit to yourself. You were struggling to form a coherent thought.
When he returned, he had clothed himself, and had a small cloth in his hand. Striding over to you he gently knelt down yet again, running it over the blood stains on your neck, the mess between your thighs.
You stared at him, and he caught your look of surprise.
“What?” he asked, an affronted tone. “I know how to treat my lovers, darling.”
“Hmm,” you chuckle, closing your eyes. “Just a softie, I knew it.”
“Hardly,” he huffed, chucking the cloth off to who knows where and pulling you up against his chest. 
He began to play with your fingers, lightly tracing the veins in your hands and up your arms. The pair of you sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, no words passing between you, but a silent understanding growing.
“We ought to go back to the camp,” Astarion eventually broke the peace, smirking at your disappointed expression. His arms encircled you once again, and you tried not to dwell on how good it felt. “Despite your rather loud vocals, I believe the others didn’t hear us, and unless you’d like to explain to them why you aren’t walking properly tomorrow…”
You snort, pushing him off of you. “Goodnight, Astarion.”
“Goodnight, my darling.”
One thing was certain, you noted as you returned to your bedroll, the sun beginning to peak over the horizon. 
You’ll need extra healing from Shadowheart in the morning.
Thank you to @flightlessangelwings for their Kinktober list this year!
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voidhope · 9 months
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The Other Woman
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Synopsis: Where Miguel leaves Y/N to go back to a different version of his old wife found in another universe.
Pair: Miguel O’Hara x Spider!Reader
Tags: ANGST!!, long term established relationship, heartbreak, marriage, cheating, mental health, cold/distant Miguel
A/N: Hi! I don’t really write at all!!
I have been a silent reader on tumblr for years but this idea has been playing in my mind so much I had the urge to write it. I have been down so bad for Miguel been on his tag like 24/7 indulging in all the content creators have been putting out. So I’m excited to join in giving content, however keep in mind I kinda suck! Apologies for any mistakes, anything confusing, or it not being well written enough. Honestly could have made this into multiple parts with better details but nah. Tried my best ^^ since it’s my first time, any feedback is greatly appreciated!
Honestly tbh we all don’t have a solid grasp how the whole canon thing and multi universe works yet so!! A lot of what is written is made up to suit my storyline so please don’t get mad about the inaccuracies.
I love a good angst and today’s story will be EXTRAAA angsty!!! As well kinda long!!
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The moment that changed your life was while working on an experiment during your college finals. You were a proud and gifted physics major that was so passionate about discovering and exploring what the world didn’t know.
You had snuck into Alchemax late at night. You wanted to show your professors just how much you could do with the right tools. Next thing you know, playing with their machines, you had spawned a spider right in-front of you. The glowing vibrant red spider had sunk its jaw into your hand.
Your life did a complete turn and you spent the rest of that week freaking out while changes to your body were happening. Causing you to fail your semester after missing exams. Things felt like it could only get worse when a massive blue suited masked man showed up out of nowhere in your dorm interrogating you.
“Where’s the spider?” He had a strong grip on your shoulders. You couldn’t focus while trying to process why this man had what seemed like claws sticking out of the ends of his fingers.
“I don’t know, it like died after it bit me!” You exclaimed nervously at the freakishly strong man. Trying to reach for anything behind you to use as a defense weapon.
“Dios mío no me digas eso…” He groaned loudly letting you go. Having the opportunity to grab something, you threw a sanrio plushie at him. Only causing him to wave his arms in annoyance. “That spider is from my earth and somehow you brought it here. Now you’re a spider-man.”
And the rest is history…
You learned that the man was Miguel O’Hara and when he found you he was just starting his missions with the multiverse. You being the few of the firsts to join his team.
Your situation was quite bizarre and he called you an anomaly for a long time, spending hours studying you and also training you. You ended up being the one case that can’t be explained no matter how much effort was put into monitoring you.
Almost like it was meant to be. Your universe remained perfect with its current spider-man doing fine. No big collapse of a black hole or anything. When you got bit by a spider from Earth-928 your DNA merged with that universe making you fit in perfectly. You were one of the only spider-people with an uncertain timeline with new canons being created depending on what universe you were in.
What changed from you being just a piece of research for Miguel is when he then realized that maybe you were a gift from the multiverse. After all the grief and pain he’d went through the universe had given him this person that worked out perfectly no matter how hard he tried to push them away. You fell head over heels for him and vice versa, all while canon events were being created with both of you together.
You were there as his team grew, slowly turning into a family. Then both of you getting married finalizing that this was your home. Everything felt perfect. Although a relationship with Miguel could have its up and down days, nothing could ever tear you both apart. Or so you assumed.
“I’m sorry Y/N.” Miguel couldn’t look at you.
“When did this start? Please be honest with me. Did I do something wrong?” You begged at him. You knew he was acting off recently but never did you think it would result to this.
You watched as he exhaled deeply staring at the ground. You felt like you couldn’t breathe as you studied his face trying to grasp onto any emotion he was showing. The atmosphere in his office felt so cold. You so badly wanted to catch his gaze and find the warmth and love his red irises used to give you. He was doing everything to push you away. He was abandoning you.
“You did nothing wrong. I met her during a mission 4 months ago.” Was all he replied.
“Who is she?” Your heart kept breaking. His face hardening as the question slipped through your lips. You knew Miguel wouldn’t leave you for just anyone. Deep in your heart you knew what this was about. He never responded but he didn’t need to when you saw his eyes flicker over to his monitor screens. You followed his trace and saw the photo of Gabriella in the corner.
“Does she have another version of your daughter?” You tried again. This is what made him look directly at you. Miguel kept opening and closing his month unsure how to tell you the truth. You weren’t stupid and he knew that. After everything he couldn’t just walk out on you with a lie.
“No.” He paused thinking of how to finally share the truth without it ruining you. There was no way out of this. “She is a younger version of herself. There is no Miguel in her universe and she’s not important to the timeline. She lives a regular life. I-it’s a chance for me to start at the very beginning.”
You felt your heart being ripped out of your chest. You processed the words carefully. She doesn’t have a child yet… Not only was he leaving you for her but he was going to fall in love with her all over again and start a family with her. A family you wanted so badly to have with him.
“What about with what happened last time you tried to live a life in a different universe?” You didn’t understand how this was happening.
He was always so carful he would never do anything to cause that again. Everything you had witness Miguel work so hard for to keep safe for years. Sleepless nights, returning bruised and beaten, frustrations and constant stress. Was it all for nothing? Is he throwing all his work away?
“This is different.” He turned away from you. “I pushed myself then into an already established life. This time I am creating that life. After all the research we did on you…” He knew that this was going to tear you apart. “I learned that if done right I could have a child from two different universes that won’t disrupt anything.”
It clicked to you then that all the research he was doing on you lately was for this. The research he did on you that time was different, personal, intimate even. As he was testing your DNAs together and seeing the outcomes. He mentioned a child and you were foolish enough to assume he was doing research to see what it would be like if you both had one together. You were giddy even as you watched him work. You had both spoken about having a family together in the past but had been too busy with spider activities. You thought it was a sign of him getting more serious about it, knowing how badly he wanted one. You would have never thought he was doing it to see how he could get back his previous child. The one you could never give him.
You had truly believe that Miguel had recovered from his obsession that his grief gave him. He accidentally destroyed a whole universe needing that life back so badly. You had spent late nights watching him re-watch clips over and over of what he had lost. It slowly stopped once your relationship blossomed with him and you thought he was ready to move on and start new. Why would you have never thought that with such a perfect opportunity presented to him that he wouldn’t drop everything for it.
“I think it’s best that you leave.” He spoke with a soft tone. As if not looking at you any longer will make the problem go away. You couldn’t wrap your mind around how he was just throwing you away like this. As if he wasn’t making you dinner, giving soft kisses, whispering I-love-you’s not so long ago.
You felt too choked up to ask anymore questions. Your throat tight and painful as you held back tears from escaping in-front of Miguel. You just nodded and headed straight out the door not being able to handle another second in that room. Your knees and hands were shaky as you speed walked into the nearest bathroom and let it all out.
It didn’t take long for everyone else to know something had happened. Everyone had gotten used to seeing you and him sitting together at lunch. You would make him cute lunch boxes and everyone would gag a bit while watching the two of you smile together. Some cringing seeing their scary boss being so soft around you. It was a big surprise when Miguel started to eat alone with a bag of take out food and you no where to be seen.
His teams he sent out for missions were all confused when you weren’t assigned to anything. Knowing you were one of the best, one of them slipped out a “Call for Y/N!” In the middle of fighting an anomaly too strong for them. Miguel only looked away.
It wasn’t until a new woman showed up in Miguel’s office with a grip around his waist. That’s when the spider-community realized that this was way worse than they thought.
You on the other hand had spilled everything to Hobie when he caught you that day leaving the bathroom with puffy eyes. You had been staying with him in his universe until you could gather yourself together to return to HQ. You knew you were going to leave for good, but you needed to go back to retrieve all your things. You couldn’t stay with Hobie forever. Worse that you weren’t from there.
You still had some hope that Miguel would come looking for you and tell you that he was all wrong. However almost two months had passed and not a word from him… That’s when you knew it was time you should return to what you once knew.
Stepping into the portal Hobie followed close behind you. He told the few others who were once close to both you and Miguel that you would be visiting. Stepping through the portal you were immediately greeted by Jessica and Peter B Parker.
“Oh, Y/N.” Jess sighed your name sadly while pulling you into a hug. You felt like you wanted to cry all over again. Missing your friends so much. Peter B came behind giving you a hug on the side.
“He’s on a mission right now.” Peter spoke up. “It might be a long one too but don’t waste anytime just incase.”
You nodded pulling away from them. Looking up around the headquarters building faintly smiling at the past memories you had here. You started heading to different areas gathering all the little things you had left around. Hobie had stitched for you a cute backpack with different scraps of patterned clothes and covered in patches of punk band logos but made with hammer space technology. Making it fun for you to fill endless of your things in the bag.
The last stop was in Miguel’s office. Doubt started to fill your mind; maybe he already threw out all of your stuff. Why would he even keep it after all of this? What no one could warn you of was the other person sitting on his platform.
“Hello!” She chirped at you. It felt like the air in your lungs had just been punched out. You knew her too well. From all the photos and videos you had seen peaking over Miguel’s shoulder. However seeing her in person was something you had never expected. You knew it wasn’t the original her but it was a copy paste image for sure.
“Hi.” Was all you managed to choke out. She was beautiful, stunning. You could see clearly now the similar features she shared in another universe with her daughter. The parts that Miguel didn’t have. She kept smiling kindly at you, almost in a graceful way. You started to feel all your insecurities start eating you up from the inside. How could you have ever compared to her.
“What’s your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” Getting off Miguel’s platform she walked closer to you. The room started to feel suffocating.
“Y/N.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you! It’s nice to meet other girls around here.”
Your eyebrows furrowed as you realized she had no reaction to your name. So Miguel never told her about you… Or that the fact was he was still even legally married to you.
“My boyfriend isn’t here right now but, if you want, I can tell him you stopped by.” She continued as you stayed silent.
“Oh, no it’s okay. I just came in here to get some stuff.” You rushed as you really wanted nothing to do with Miguel at all. You almost worried that he might even get angry knowing you got to speak with her. If he already dislikes you this much you couldn’t even imagine how he would feel if you got in the way of this for him.
You started heading over to the familiar drawers around the room. Grabbing your old hoodies and shirts finding your most comfortable of things here. You treated this place as one of your safe spaces as you used to spend so much time here.
“Oh I didn’t know these were all yours! I was wondering why this was all around. When I came here I wanted to do some spring cleaning but Miguel wouldn’t let me touch anything.” She followed besides you. “It’s so mind blowing seeing all this technology. We don’t have any of this where I live-“ She continue rambling but you started to zone her out. You felt like you were about to have a panic attack any minute. There was one question that kept burning in your mind.
“Are you and Miguel already planning to have a child?” You blurted out. Your eyes widened a bit as you surprised yourself. She let out a loud laugh.
“Oh dear no! We have only been together about 6 months. You must be new around here so you must not know much about us.” She chuckled.
In some cruel way you were hoping she would have said yes. You had that twisted hope of maybe Miguel just keeping her to have a kid and ditching her after he gets Gabriella and run back to you. In reality he was playing the long game, he really meant it when we said he was starting over. “He’s never mentioned kids anyways. I’m not even sure if he’d like them or do well with them.”
With that statement she made you looked at her appalled. Anyone could see in Miguel how good of a father he could be. Just in the way he takes care of the society he built here. You started to realize that she really has been left in the dark. She doesn’t know anything. She probably doesn’t even know that she’s a replacement of another self. You wondered why Miguel was doing this. It felt like he didn’t just toy with you but with her as well. A man you came to love for how selfless he was, to realize now everything was for his own personal gain. Suddenly you started to feel bad for her. You couldn’t dislike her, she wasn’t doing anything wrong and she doesn’t even know.
“I got all my stuff. Nice to meet you.” Was all you could say as you zipped up your bag and turned straight around out of there. Not giving any glance back at her, you left to one of the empty training rooms to recollect your overwhelming thoughts. All of the self healing you tried the past month thrown in the garbage.
It wouldn’t be too soon that news of you going around the building was returned to Lyla. You had cut out all coms while you were gone so she immediately popped up on your watch when she found out.
“AH-“ You jumped as the tiny AI was suddenly in front of your face.
“It’s so wonderful to see you Y/N. Oh my god!”She started. Then she went on rambling about how she knew everything and had seen everything. How she didn’t agree with what was happening and was doing everything she could to convince you to stay. After 5 minutes of her rambling you stopped her to let your emotions out.
“Lyla, Lyla It’s okay. Just stop. It’s all complicated I know, but this didn’t work out. I wished Miguel just cheated on me like all the other fucked up normal men out there. That I walked in on him deep in another random girl. Though painful I could have tried fixing and fighting for us. But instead what I got was him emotionally cheating on me and chase after something he knows I can never give him.” You felt yourself choke up. “I can never ask him to give up what he longs and dreams for just for me to be happy. I lost this battle the moment he laid eyes on her.”
Finding comfort in the AI your husband made. You’ve created a bond with Lyla that Miguel found cute but you knew now this might be the last time you’ll be speaking with her.
“You can give him a family y/n… you guys have been married two years now. I know you’ve both set the thought aside until the multiverse issues are better but you can fight for him. You have to snap him out of his fantasy. He still thinks about you.”
“Lyla you know deep down truly he never just wanted a family. He wanted exactly what he had. What he lost. Which should be impossible but being by his side seeing how insane the multiverse is… Good for him for believing in something so hard he’s found himself even a third chance to do it.”
“I hate that you’re being too kind about this situation.” Lyla paced around you.
“I love him so deeply Lyla. You know that very well. It’s so hard to suddenly hate him. I am angry, but I’m also emotionally drained I can’t do this.” You let out a deep sigh. “I’ve watched him long for this family when we just met. For some stupid reason when things worked out for us I thought I would be enough… When we got engaged and he would spend some days at home with me not even coming to HQ. I thought he was finally moving on not just from his grief and past but from the weight of his work. I saw a bright future for us.”
“You can still have a bright future with him! You moving here gave him a new canon event, another chance at life in his timeline. Here in his own universe! He’s just too obsessed and he’s lost himself in that.” She exclaimed with her hands up.
“Our canon event was our wedding.” Your frowned deepened. “But the universe didn’t say anything else after. It doesn’t say our canon event means we are suppose to live happily together forever I guess.”
“I’m just trying my best to be optimistic. I rooted so hard for you and Miguel when you joined the team. I know you can remember the amount of times I would force you both in rooms.” Lyla recalled.
“And I’m grateful for it… Even if this didn’t work out. I was given precious memories, not just working with you and being on this team but falling in love with Miguel. I know I’m being all depressed and hopeless but I feel like even if I move on I’ll never be able to replace him and find a relationship like this again. However he threw me away so easily and maybe he never valued me as much as I did to him.” You felt your emotions bubble. “I became who I am here. I’m going to miss everyone so much.”
“You can still stay here and work with us.” She edged on.
“I can’t just sit around here begging at his feet to return to me or moping around doing missions while watching him with someone else. I want to hate him so badly. I know he’s your boss and you’re basically hardwired to do everything for him and you’re trying your hardest to fix what you think is his right path. But think of me a little more and how miserable it’ll be. I’m the only one hurting here.”
Lyla paused and stared at you with an almost glossy-eyed look. While she worked she could see the inner term-oil Miguel was hiding and the emptiness he was turning to since trying to start new in the other universe. It just wasn’t her place to hold this conversation and he was the one who needed to get a grip of himself and really think and talk with you. She can’t be the one trying to mend the pieces for both of you together. What Miguel did was so wrong. She knew you were right and she didn’t want to see any more damage be caused to you.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” She looked up at you sincerely. “I hate this outcome for you. Not only are you loosing your husband but your home. When was the last time you’ve even been in your universe?”
“Like a year ago for a mission…”
“Exactly! Even if things are over with Miguel, you have all of us here! I wish you could stay. I understand you leaving, I really do. I know a lot of us will try visiting you but I’m tied to Miguel…” You started to see how it clicked for her too that it’s most likely you might not see each other for a long time. “Even if a spider-person is visiting you I can’t just show up on their watch… It’ll go back to him and I know you wouldn’t want that. I know I’m an AI and I can’t hold real emotions but I mean it when I say I’m going to miss you.”
Tears poured down your cheeks as her words hit you. Going back to your universe is going to be a struggle. You have nothing there now. However nothing can compare to the pain of the outcome you’ve had with Miguel, and you needed out of here ASAP. Your mental health getting worse the longer you stay. Even the other spiders you have come to love can’t bring that spark back right now. You needed genuine time for yourself, even if it’s self destructive, instead of putting on a fake smile everyday here.
“Bye, Lyla.” You whispered. She nodded and waved her hand goodbye at you before disappearing. You took your watch off your wrist placing it on a nearby desk. With it you pulled the divorce paperwork out of your pocket neatly sealed and already signed on your half. Opening a portal you took your last glances at the place you spent so many loving memories in.
Tears blurred your vision as you stepped through the portal. Once your legs landed on a rooftop of a building in your dimension, you racked out full sobs falling to your knees.
You were always just the other woman.
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Thank you so much for reading!! I know it was a longer one ~
would anyone like a part 2? If so anyone want a angsty or happy ending? I think it’ll be more in Miguel’s perspective as well!
EDIT: You can now read PART 2 here
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hoshigray · 10 months
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Pleasurable Practice
Here's what I got: when you're left in headquarters to study for an upcoming language skit, your boss and work crush, Miguel O'Hara, does what he can to help his subordinate. And he does, in more ways than one...
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A/n: It's been a week since I saw the film in theaters, and my brain hasn't been the same. I tried very hard not to write for this man, but here we are. Sighhhh, I swear I wasn't this bad when playing EoT (curse you Oscar Issac, and the ATSV art department!!!). And it doesn't help that my social feeds are full of him...Anyway, I hope you enjoy this piece! It's WAY longer than I wanted, but I guess that's meant to show how much fun I had writing, hehehe~. Also, ty so so much for 600+ followers!!
Cw: Miguel x fem!reader - some ATSV spoilers so tread carefully - sexual context so minors DNI - fingering (fem! receiving) - cunnilingus - clitoral play (Miguel's fangs lightly brush your clit, but doesn't bite it) - praise - kisses on the stomach - pet names (amorcito/little love, mi alma/my soul; amor/my love; vida/my life) - sexual acts in public - outside intrusions, but you two don't get caught.
Wc: 2.8k
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"Hey, Lyla. You sure you wanna leave me here?"
"Aww, you scared something would happen without me?" She chuckles when you shrug. "You'll be fine; everything's been taken care of for today. If something pops outta nowhere, you know where to find Miguel or give me a call. Alright, I'm outta here. Cya tomorrow~."
"Bye, Lyla~" With that, the pixelated woman signs off from your line of sight, and you slump into your chair with a sigh.
It's late at night in Nueva York. The Spider Society headquarters is still active, but fewer people occupy the halls and sectors in these late hours, you being one of them. You're sitting at a conference table by the teleportation room, taking in Margo's shift. But since things are quiet around here, you use this time to work on your homework.
Well, you would've if a pair of hands didn't suddenly come from behind and blocked your vision. "Guess who?"
You shake your head with a smile. "Aren't you supposed to be at Earth-50101 hanging with Gwen and Pav?"
The hands are removed, giving your shoulders a quick rub. "Can't say a quick bye before I'm off?" Hobie Brown walks from behind to sit on the table, avoiding the scattered papers on the surface. "What's all this? School?"
"Yeah," You pick up a paper with color-coordinated dialogues. " I got a reflection to finish and need to read this script for a skit in my modern language class on Wednesday."
"What language?"
"Spanish." You flip the script for him to look at. A giggle slips from you. "Suppose you can't help me, huh?"
Hobie grins. "Yo lo haría si pudiera." Your eyes go big. Of course, the guy who "doesn't believe in consistency" would know a thing or two about other languages.
".....Please stay and help me."
"Can't, perhaps next time." Another heavy sigh as the tall other gets up from the table and opens a portal to Pavitr's universe. "We'll save some snacks to bring back tomorrow. See ya then."
"Bye, Hobie." You groan with your head meeting the table surface as the portal vanishes with Hobie's dismissal. In despair, you lift your head up and proceed with your work.
It's about 11 p.m., and you were able to finish your paper in about two hours. It's now time to work on your Spanish script. Unfortunately, your class partner can't be here (obviously) to say his lines with you, but you two promised to highlight your lines and recite on your own downtime. So you follow through with the blue lines — your lines — avoiding the red lines and announcing all the words to the best you can.
After the third time around, you start to get to the rhythm of it. So in tune with what you're doing, you don't mind your surroundings as you circle around the table with your face glued to your script.
"What're you doing?"
However, it all comes to a halt when a voice startles you. So used to the silence and your own tone that you didn't notice a familiar man creep from behind you. Your eyes widen at the tall and well-built figure before you.
Miguel O'Hara, Spider-Man 2099 and the leader of the Spider Society — your boss who you have a major crush on and is still waiting for you to reply after nearly scaring you to death.
"O-Oh, Miguel, umm," you quickly straighten yourself up, but the heat in your face encroaches. "Sorry, didn't see ya there. I was just looking at this script."
"A script?" He slightly tilts his head, surveying your moves as you sit back at the table. He follows and peers behind your shoulder to see what you're working on. "For what?"
"It's for a skit in my Spanish class. I'm reciting my lines for Wednesday." He nods at your answer, glancing around to see you're alone. "Lyla signed off for a while, but she told me to tell you that if you 'need anyone to put a leash on you,' Jessica would answer the call."
The man narrowed his eyes and sucked his teeth, "of course she said that..." was all he murmured under his breath from his pixelated peer's words. With a heavy sigh, he turns back to the paper in your hand and extends out his. His silent request is answered when you pass him the sheet to skim. A brow is lifted. "Is the skit like some kind of married couple or—"
You confirm. "Yes. Our unit is on relationships, and my partner and I wanted to do a skit where the husband — my partner — comes home and surprises his wife with their favorite flower and then gives a nice speech on how much he loves her." Miguel still reads the script, but you continue on. "Luckily, our instructor said it's not our final where it's required to talk entirely in Spanish. So, we can say some English phrases or words if our brains go blank."
Miguel finally stops examining the script and eyes at you. "I can help."
Huh? "Excuse me?"
"You're the blue lines, right?" Correct. "Then I can be the red lines and help you practice."
Wait, no! "Oh no, there's no need for that, Miguel! I'm sure you're busy looking at the screens on your station and—"
"No pasa nada, Y/n," You gulp when he grabs a chair and sits close to you. "I'll say your partner's parts, and you reply with yours." There's no use in arguing with him out of this, so you just follow suit.
For the past thirty minutes, you and Miguel have been practicing. Sometimes he'll call you out on words you forget or mispronounce, which hurts your little heart being scolded like a child. But then there are times when he praises you for saying something correctly without second-guessing, or he'll ask for a pen to scratch off something and write a better phrase for you to say. And you can tell that your memorization's been improving thanks to his help. Maybe there was no need to be nervous.
The time is now 11:46, and you feel way more confident about this skit than before. Miguel can also tell by how much you've performed that you'll do fine on Wednesday. Guess that should do it. He puts the script down and gets up, heading back to his original post.
"Hey, wanna do the actual skit with me?"
Huh? "What?"
"Well, I was thinking," You squeak. "Maybe we can try acting out the skit without the paper now that I'm kinda getting the hang of it? But, I mean, that's only if you're okay with it, ya know..."
His brows trench down. Miguel knows he shouldn't do it; there are many universes in his post that he needs to keep an eye on in case anything pops off. He can't afford to just act out a scenario for some class. However, when he glances back at you, he faces mixed feelings. Your eyes look at his, nibbling on your bottom lip, and your fingers fidget with each other as you wait for his answer.
Miguel knows he shouldn't...but it won't hurt to comply this one time.
"Fine," your heart skips when he turns back to face you fully. "But don't mention it to Lyla or Jess. I'll never hear the end of it from those two."
"Of course!" You reassure him as you ready yourself, mentally calming the happiness brewing inside down. "You go."
He nods and plays the scene. He acts like he opens a door and holds an imaginary object. "Estoy en casa, cariño."
"Oh, bienvenido a casa, bebé!" You rush to Miguel and give him a hug. You feel him go rigid, and you freeze. Wait, he's still my boss and not my actual partner! Oh, God, I bet he regrets doing this now...Ughhh!! Commit now, cry later!
You quickly improvise and pull him by his spider suit to come close, placing pretend kisses on his cheeks. "Llegas pronto a casa, mi guapo muñeco. Is something wrong?"
Miguel stares at you for a few seconds before he blinks and coughs. "Ahem, Querida, vine temprano porque es tu cumpleaños. Y quería darte esto." The hand with the invisible object comes up, and you take it.
"Dios mío, ¿mi flor favorita en mi día especial?" You give the man a warm smile and place a hand on his cheek, stroking his skin lovingly. Miguel hitches his breath. "Eres demasiado buena conmigo, muñeco. Pero no tenías que regalarme nada."
It takes Miguel a moment, but he coughs once more and returns to the task. "Puede que la flor no fuera necesaria, pero tenía que conseguirla para ti, mi amor." He puts a hand on yours that's still on his cheek, now it's your turn to slow your breathing. "Cada vez que veo esta flor, sólo puedo pensar en ti. No sólo hoy, sino todos los días. Veo todo lo que haces por mí y nunca lo doy por sentado. You are my everything, Y/n. Tú eres mi mundo. Mi luz. Mi corazón. Mi… Mi…"
He stops, noticing your expression and shallow breaths. Your eyes never leave his, mouth agape, and your attention entirely on his words— no, on him. Even in this little act, you dare not move or say something out of turn. Listening to the man before you intently, your hand still in his.
He knows he shouldn't, but Miguel leans into you, and a small gasp leaves you before his lips press onto your soft ones. "....Mi alma."
Your brain short-circuits, the feel of his lips overtaking you. You awkwardly kiss him back, resulting in a moan from Miguel. He grabs your waist while pushing himself forward, making you walk backwards until you hit the table. The bump has you two break the kiss, forcing you back to reality.
Miguel says nothing, and so do you, your eyes honing in on his deep red orbs. Your thoughts go too fast that your head pounds. What? What was that? Did he mean to do that??
"Túmbate."
He captures your attention. "What?"
"Lie down, mi amor." He commands in a stern voice. Hesitance restrains you, yet you still follow orders and sit on the table with your back to the surface. A small smile creeps up on Miguel, and he leans down to plant more kisses on your sweet lips. "Good. Now, say your part."
Slow smooches from your chin to your neck leave you breathless. Although the heat in your face is unbearable, you play along and stick to the script. "My wonderful husband...Y...You are so thought—"
"Se supone que está en español, Y/n." He corrects you. Lifting your shirt to reveal your abdomen. Miguel kisses your exposed tummy while his hand snakes past your bottoms, pressing a finger down on the wet spot of your clothed vulva. Your toes curl as your first moan leaves puffy lips. "Try again."
You intake a deep breath. "Ere...Eres muy considerado con—Mmmm....conmigo." Your bottoms and undergarments are now off, your bare cunt out for Miguel to see. The older man props your legs upward with both hands as he brings his face close to your pussy. He lightly blows on it, and you bite your lip from the cold air. "Keep going, mi vida."
"Cuando....no haya luz en mi—Oooh!!" Miguel flicks your clitoris with his tongue before nestling it between your soaked folds, sucking and laving your essence. "Nnnmp! Mi-Miguel, I can't do thisss...Your tongue, it feels so, so—Oh Christ..."
His ruby eyes peek at your face. "But you were doing just fine, Y/n." The way he says your name feels so sinful, so forbidden. But so pleasing to the ears. "Repeat it."
His tongue goes back to torment your slit. The risque noises the wet muscle makes with your slick-covered chasm ring your eardrums. Ecstatic whimpers fill the space around you, and you grab tufts of Miguel's brown hair when his tongue flicks your clit again. He's impatient, so you concede.
"Cuando no haya luz en mi vida....Haaaahhh, sé que estarás ahí para protegerme." Miguel pushes your tender bud against his teeth. His canine brushing on your pearl, causing you to jerk. "Eres mi sombra...Mi—Ahhhh!....escudo....Mi rey."
He chortles, "Good job, mi alma."
Satisfied with your cooperation, the man sucks on your precious sex as his forefinger nestles between your folds, your slick providing lubricant to naturally push his digit through your entrance. You jolt with a sharp cry, tears falling from your beautiful face.
His tongue and fingers go faster, and your release climbs higher with every lick. The stimulation of your poor cunt and clitoris is hardcore that you come in a few seconds, the walls of your chasm fluttering around Miguel's fingers coated with your personal fluids.
Your heavy pants slow down to steady your body that subsides from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Miguel withdraws his mouth and fingers from you, standing upright to take in your figure.
He scoffs with a tiny grin, licking his lips. "Amorcito."
You open your mouth to say something, but a flash of colors and shapes captures the attention of both of you. Your eyes go wide. Oh no, someone's coming!
With haste, you immediately grab for your bottoms and underwear before taking cover under the conference table, using it to quickly put your clothes back on before someone enters through the portal. That someone was Jessica Drew, making her arrival known by revving her motorbike.
"Jess," Miguel puts on his usually serious face. But on the inside, he's almost as nervous as you. Because he swiftly pulls a chair out to cover his erection lower regions.
"Hey, Miguel! I thought I'd find you here." The woman addresses him when she's done a lap around the table. Her portal vanishes from the scene. "I've been trying to call you through your watch. You not wearing it?"
He looks down at his wrist where it was supposed to be. "...I was using the restroom, so I left it on my station."
"Mmm, I figured." Jessica then notices the paper and backpack on the table. "This is Y/n's stuff, right? Where are they?"
"R-Right here, Jess!" To her surprise, you come out from the table with your bottoms fully secured. "Sorry, I was looking for my pen before packing up." You smile to ease the awkward tension and your racing heart.
"Oh, okay then." Jessica nods to your words and turns to Miguel. "Anyway, I was calling you up because I need backup. The guy I was dealing with somehow switched places with another villain. Took care of the other one, but my guy's elsewhere."
He hums. "Lyla."
"That's me." The yellow-pixelated woman with pink heart-shaped glasses appears once more.
"Where are the coordinates of the anomaly Jess was handling?"
"I'm sorry, you want me to do what?"
"...."
"What's the magic word?" The tiny woman teases him while you and Jessica hold in your laughs.
Miguel's brows furrow with a slight pout. "....Canyoupleasesend—"
"Woah, woah, woah," Lyla gets closer to his face with each word, raising his irritation as she does so. "Little too fast there."
"Can you please give us the co—"
"Already gave it to Jess."
"Then what was the point—"
"You know how much I love to pester ya," her smile doesn't help squander his frustration, not when he also hears the exchanged giggles between you and Jessica. "And call that payback for not having your watch on you."
To avoid their eyes seeing Miguel's situation, he leaves and fetches his watch quickly after being repeatedly teased by the two women. He returns ready with his mask on and the device on his wrist. Lyla and Jess are waiting for him, same with you and all your stuff packed up. It's 12 in the morning now, you have to get home. "Ready?"
"Yup, see ya there." The woman on her bike starts it up. Lyla disappears when the dimension is opened. "Bye, Y/n!"
"Bye, Jess!" You wave goodbye to the woman, who does one final lap before entering the portal to her new destination. And now you're back to being alone with Miguel, who you find looking at you. You gulp and say your thoughts. "Don't worry, I didn't tell them! And, sorry that it happened. I was being a little too close to you in the first—"
"Hey." Miguel lifts a hand to stop you from rambling on further, and you listen. "Your skit. When is it again?"
It takes you aback that he asks, but you still reply. "Wednesday?"
"Hm. Alright then." And with that, he walks to the portal to his next mission. But before he exits, he peers from his shoulder and proclaims something.
"Tell me how you did on Wednesday, then we'll continue with this talk."
6K notes · View notes
cavillscurls · 3 months
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it rains, it pours | finnick odair x f!reader
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pairing: finnick odair x f!district 4 reader
summary: finnick consoles you after being trapped in the blood rain. based on this request.
warnings/tags: angst. fluff. general hunger games violence/lore. depictions of fear and anxiety. mentions of blood, murder, and death. annie doesn’t exist and mags was not reaped. some mutual pining. no description of body type, age, or race.
word count: 1.2k
a/n: hello! this is my first time writing finnick, & while i’m incredibly excited to add him to my repertoire, i’m also terrified lmao. it’s very short, so expect longer stories in the future. please be kind & patient with me while i learn my method of his characterization! any & all constructive feedback is always welcome.
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You thought some of it may have seeped into your lungs.
Water. Just get to the water.
It didn’t matter that you had done this all before: suffered, fought, killed. The Capitol kept finding ways to surprise you. To terrify you. A cruel, never-ending cycle.
You were vaguely aware of the shouting voices that picked up once your blood-soaked group reached the beach. Most of them were drowned out by Johanna’s shrill expletives, or Wiress and her incessant tick-tock’s. But through it, you hazily made out the sound of your name being called. Repeated and strained as it echoed over the water you were frantically moving towards.
It was all your body knew how to do.
Keep moving.
Keep fighting.
You made it waist deep into the water, numbly unaware of the way your limbs were trembling and your breaths were heaving, before the source of your name calling was splashing in after you.
Closer, it was getting closer. It reached for you, grabbed at your sticky biceps, and attempted to shake you back to reality. It was in front of you, eyes still hazed with crimson, unable to decipher what exactly it was. Who it was.
But there was a familiarity in how they called your name, desperate now.
“Look at me. Hey, look at me, sweetheart. You’re alright.”
It was the first time he had spoken to you since the reaping. Even with the knowledge of Plutarch’s plan seeded in you both, there was a lingering rule between you: you simply didn’t speak anymore. Not since the blonde haired boy you knew so well stepped into that arena for the first time ten years ago, and came out a different person.
In fact, before the reaping — where he commanded you through gritted teeth and whispers to stay alive, no other information to follow — you weren’t even sure you could pinpoint the last time you had spoken to Finnick Odair.
Childhood friend turned victor.
Hopeful victor turned a shell of himself, his body no longer his own, sharp mind in constant torment under Snow’s ministrations.
Tormented man who abandoned home, abandoned you, even when it came time for your first sacrifice to the games.
You may as well have been strangers. And yet, no one in that arena, in all of Panem, knew you as well as he did. Not even the passage of lost time could change that fact. A lifetime of memories reduced to a singular moment.
“It just—it came out of nowhere.” You didn’t recognize your voice, nor the bloody reflection of yourself in the water.
How much more were you expected to endure before there was nothing left of you? Scattered pieces of the Capitol’s puzzle broadcasted for the entire country to consume, but never for you to discover again. Lost to the games.
“I know. I know, but you’re out. You’re safe. I need you to stay with me,” Finnick consoled, a rushed whisper. He meant stay lucid, of course. Don’t lose yourself, not yet. Not when we’re so close.
You thought he must have known every idea coursing through your head: where did it come from? Whose is it? When would it come again?
His firm hold on your arms was the only thing keeping you grounded, keeping you sane. You allowed his words to soak into your skin, praying they would reach deeper than blood. To the bone. To your core, where you knew a cause greater than yourself was just beyond your fingertips. You blinked once. Twice. Forcing the haze out of your vision, and finally, seeing him clearly.
Sea-green eyes blown wide under furrowed brows. Golden curls matted with sweat and dirt. Precious lips, plush and full, downturned. Familiar. Safe. You felt your throat begin to burn with rising tears.
“Get it off,” you croaked, eager to push forward. “Please just – just help me get it off.”
He didn’t think twice, ushering you further into the water until it hit your chest. He stood at your rear, instructing you calmly to tilt your head back until it reached your hairline, and you complied. Never doubting for a moment he would catch you if you fell.
He placed one hand at your waist; stable, although tentative. The other began to work tenderly through your knotted hair, tainting the cerulean water around you with the evidence of rain. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, focusing on your breath, and the soothing touch of his fingers against your scalp.
“Don’t cry,” he whispered, a futile attempt to shield you from the cameras that were undoubtedly pointed your way. He must have heard the way you were struggling to keep your breath from sputtering through your nostrils. “Don’t give them the satisfaction.”
“I’m trying,” you whimpered, eyes still shut. His fingers worked around your ears now, over your forehead, careful not to pour any over your mouth and nose. You focused on that; the tactile cue of someone who wanted to help you, who cared about you.
“I know,” he asserted. “And you’re gonna keep trying. Hold your breath—”
You obeyed, taking in a deep gulp of air and letting the weight of your skull fall into his palm. He lowered you into the water at your set pace, and for a moment, the world was quiet. Still.
You could pretend you were back in four, on your own shoreline, familiar grains of sand, and the sound of children's laughter. That the man cradling you below the water was once just a boy and you a girl. And maybe, just maybe as time went on, and the boy became a man and you a woman, the affliction of admiration could be acted on. Perhaps it would even be reciprocated, wanted. A life, no matter how tedious and meaningless to those with more money and power, could continue in isolated bliss. Where there were no sacrifices. No torments.
No games.
You shot up from the water with a gasp, frantically wiping the droplets from your eyes, and turning to face the man behind you. Finnick stood as he had before, shrouded in concern, eyes searching you as if he was looking for the next bit on the verge of breaking. There was no discernment or contempt. He wasn’t running from you or avoiding you. He was there. Alive and breathing. And suddenly, years of resentment faded with the realization that, nowadays, people had so little.
But you still had him.
You heard the momentary breath of surprise evade him when you lurched forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face into his neck. A beat, and then, he flushed your chest against him, hugging you around the waist. A bit more snug than he ever had before. The water made it easy, keeping your bodies afloat while you clung to one another, a singular solace in a hellish cage. When you closed your eyes then, you could feel that fantasy come to life. And for just a moment longer, you indulged in it.
“Please don’t leave me,” you muttered into his skin, voice trembling and arms squeezing him closer. “I can’t do this alone.”
Finnick shook his head earnestly. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, and you believed him. He pulled back then, only enough to find your eyes, a similar urgency in his. He leaned forward, touching his forehead to yours. You let him. “We finish this together, alright?”
You felt the weight the size of the world fall off your chest, a forgotten feeling taking its place.
Hope.
“Together.”
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dreamescapeswriting · 15 days
Text
Contracted Love ~ MYG
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WORD COUNT: 7.1K
GENRE: CEO AU, marriage contracts, blackmailing, fake dating, fake marriage, falling love and realising you’re scared, (might actually be my fav piece)
PAIRING: Yoongi X Fem!Reader
⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - March 2024
⤜MASTERLIST
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As Yoongi began to walk through the bustling heart of the city he couldn't stop his mind from wandering back from the meeting he had just left and he didn't know whether to laugh or cry at what had happened.
It had been his grandfather's will reading, something that heartbreaking in and of itself but what was getting to Yoongi more was the stipulation that came along with his portion of the will. 
"It is not my wish for you to end up like me, old, alone and afraid of love."
Was that the piece of paper read, his grandfather was giving him strict orders to follow if he had any chance of getting his grandfather's portion of the company he owned and he needed it.
There was no way it could go to his father's side of the family, the vultures as his grandfather called them. They only hung around him long enough to know that they were going to be put into the will and didn't want to know his grandfather any other time. But it was all stupid. In order to collect his portion he had to be married and have a child all within a year.
A man who had hardly dated before was supposed to married and have a child within twelve months if he wanted any chance of keeping his company alive. Now Yoongi could have sworn he heard the ticking of a clock in the back of his mind as a constant reminder that he hadn't got much time.
"Please, I promise I can get it for you by the end of the week if you just give me some more time!" A voice pleaded, interrupting his thoughts and making him freeze on the sidewalk wondering what was unfolding in front of him.
"I've heard this a million times, Yn, I'm sick of hearing it." A male said, angrily staring down at you as you whimpered a little. He was your landlord Richard and he had just served you with an eviction notice for your business.
"Pages & Aromoa's will be a hit in no time and you'll have all the money I owe you." You sniffled but Richard handed you the piece of red paper and walked away, ignoring your begging and driving off.
"Fucking cunt," You hissed before heading inside of the door.
Yoongi stared up at the cafe sign it was basically falling apart but it was easily readable. The brick walls of the cafe had patches of Ivy clinging to the surface as if trying to breathe life into the ageing structure. The windows were slightly grim but offered a glimpse into the warmth inside that awaited anyone walking by. 
The cafe was nestled between two giant skyscrapers, one of which belonged to Yoongi but he'd never even noticed the cafe before. Sighing to himself he wondered if this was the cafe his grandfather had been boasting about before he had died and he found himself walking inside. The bell above the door sounded as he did so but you were nowhere to be seen.
"I'll be just a minute," Your voice called out. Despite the outside appearance of the building, Yoongi was pleasantly surprised when he walked inside. The interior was a sanctuary of tranquillity and refinement. Polished hardwood floors gleamed under the soft glow of vintage bulbs that were casting a warm ambience in the cafe. The perfect place to hide away and work or even read which was something that clearly happened here.
There were shelves lining the walls, stretched from floor to ceiling, the books all looked used and loved. Plush armchairs and cosy reading nooks were all over the place, offering a place for someone to lose themselves in the pages of a good book or work in silence. It was obvious why his grandfather had loved this place and had been talking about it for months.
"Stupid, machine." Yoongi heard you grumbling as you finally came up from behind a counter and smiled warmly in his direction. The smile that sent a warmth throughout his chest he suddenly felt guilty about having.
"What can I get you? And please, don't say coffee because the press is broken and the machine won't work," You pleaded with him, Yoongi's mouth opened to say something but he found himself unable to speak, struck by something he didn't understand. His chest was fluttering and his stomach was in knots, he didn't know what was happening. 
"Oh! Are you deaf? I know some sign language but I can write stuff down if it's easier." Before Yoongi had a chance to protest you were beginning to sign to him, something he didn't even understand himself but he was pretty sure you'd gotten it wrong.
"Can I get some tea?" He didn't know what was going on with his stomach but his grandfather always told him that tea solved most issues. Something warm to settle a raging stomach.
"Sure! I have a whole selction-" You were about to list off the extensive list you had when Yoongi shook his head,
"Early grey would be fine, with Milk."
"To go?" You arched a brow at him, most people that came in dressed the way he was got all of their orders to go. You knew the type he was, a businessman, too busy to learn the name of the place they were in but were loyal to it, it was nice.
"Erm," Yoongi glanced around and then down at his watch. He wasn't due back at work for another hour or so,
"I'll stay," He smiled at you and you nodded, pointing around the shop for him to sit anywhere he wanted. It wasn't like it was going to get busy anytime soon and your regular customer you'd had for a few months had suddenly stopped coming recently.
"Sure, make yourself comfortable." You gestured around the room and Yoongi stayed frozen in place,
"Don't you need my name for the order?" Yoongi countered you smirked a little at him.
"Because it'll get lost in the sea of customers?" You asked sarcastically, laughing nervously at the end,
"I guess that's true." He chuckles a little, and for the first time in a long time it feels like a genuine laugh from him, something he hadn't done for a long time
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"He died?" Your voice was so sympathetic as soon as Yoongi told you about his grandfather, Rath, who had been your most loyal and regular customer. The two of you had been discussing your business for a while and you'd mentioned to Yoongi about having to close down soon if you weren't picking up in business.
"I wondered why he stopped coming by," You slowly sank down in the armchair opposite Yoongi and he smiled sadly down at the cup of tea in his hands. 
"Were you close to my grandfather?" You weren't close with the man but he'd been coming in every day it felt like you were friends.
"I wouldn't say close but we did talk a lot whenever he was here, he loved you." You smiled, Rath had spoken so much about Yoongi that you felt as though you knew him but he hadn't been at all what you were expecting. 
You'd expected some small, nerdy-looking guy but Yoongi was the opposite, he was built well, dressed in the finest of suits and looked as though he could be in the pages of magazines.
"I have a proposition for you." He suddenly said. Yoongi wasn't blind, he could see the business was going under and he knew you needed him as much as he needed you.
"Which is?" You laughed a little, looking up at the time and then back to Yoongi. The two of you had been sat talking for almost two hours now and still not a single other person had come in, which hadn't gone unnoticed by Yoongi, who was already concocting a plan in his mind.
"I need to get married." He said bluntly.
"And I need your help to do it." You held back the urge to laugh as you stared at him, you weren't sure what his grandfather had told him but you didn't know anyone in the market at the minute.
"Unfortunately I'm not sure I'm your girl, I can't help."
"But you can. You see, I have a lot of money and you need a lot of money." You knew that already, the Min family were richer than rich, one of the richest families in the world.
"What makes you think I NEED money?" You were trying to play it close to your chest, but it was true. You were desperate for money, your coffee machines were broken and you were behind on four months worth of rent.
"Yn, let's be real, your business is going under and I can help. I can keep you afloat or make you a huge success, whatever you want I can do that." As amazing as that sounded you still didn't know anyone that would be willing to just randomly get married to him,
"But I don't know anyone that wants to be married." You shook your head but Yoongi smirked at you,
"You can marry me," The words registered in your brain and you bit back the urge to laugh in his face.
"Are you insane?" You added a nervous laugh at the end and stood up, moving away from where he was sitting but he was quick to follow you.
"I have a lot of influence, I can easily make this place well known." He told you with a giant smile, your hands nervously tugged at the cleaning rag in your hand and you stared at him. 
"Just for marrying you?" 
"Just marrying me. All fake, no one would have to know we're not really together," Shit like this didn't happen in real life, only in books and really bad film adaptations, there had to be a catch. 
"What do you get out of this? Why do you need a wife so badly?" Was this something he did on a regular? Ask random women to marry him and then never follow through with all of his promises.
"If I get married, I can collect my grandfather's part of the company but I need a wife." He was going to ignore the child part until absolutely necessary, he was sure there was a way out of that.
"Why wouldn't he leave it to you?" You frowned, Rath had seemed so sure of Yoongi, you were positive he would have left his Grandson something. 
"He doesn't want me to end up alone," Yoongi admitted, your heart breaking a little as you remembered Rath mentioning he wished he'd never divorced Yoongi's grandmother,
"Oh."
"You'd get your business up and running, booming, I'd get half of the company away from my vultures of a family and everyone will be happy." You'd heard stories of the other side of Yoongi's family, stories from Rath and things you'd read about in the media.
"Okay...But there have to be some rules in place...A contract?"
"Agreed," Yoongi glanced down at his watch and bit his lip, he was already late for a meeting but that didn't matter.
"Come up to my office tonight, give your name to security and they'll bring you up. We'll work out a contract and hash out all of the details." He smiled warmly at you and you somehow believed him that all of this was going to work.
"My business will be fixed if I do this, right?"
"I promise." He breathed out before rushing out of the door, your heart racing at the thought of all of this becoming true. You glanced down at your outfit before cursing yourself, you were dressed in clothes with holes and your apron was torn to pieces.
"New outfit," You mumbled, heading to the door and locking it up. If you were going to go into business with Yoongi then you wanted to look the part. 
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"Come in," Yoongi called as he heard a small tapping at his office door, the day had gone on for longer than he'd liked and he was looking forward to writing out the contract and heading home for the night. 
"Mr Min, Yn is here." His assistant announced before shutting the door, Yoongi slowly glanced up from his desk and his eyes almost popped out of his head.
He had been expecting you in the same scraps of clothes you had worn this morning but instead, you were dressed in a black pencil skirt and a red silk top that was unbuttoned to show just enough cleavage.
"Is this okay? It's the only thing I had left from my office days," You laughed nervously when you noticed him staring at you a little longer than he had done that morning.
"It's-It's erm, perfect." His voice stuttered and cracked as he stared at you. He had no idea that you could look this way and now he suddenly felt as though he was out of his depth. 
"Please sit," He gestured to the seat in front of his desk before grabbing two bottles of water and sitting back down. By now you'd gotten out a worn leather-bond book from your bag and smiled.
"Let's get straight to it," You said, your tone businesslike yet hidden with a little humour. Yoongi smiled to himself, preparing his own notepad.
"We need some rules in place, so nothing is blurred along the way." He stated simply.
"Your business will be my number one priority during all of this. We'll sit down with a bookkeeper and organise your bills as well as figure out anything that's owed." You suddenly felt your chest tighten, you were in a massive amount of debt. Yoongi had already gone into research mode when he got home and knew everything you needed to pay off.
"T-That might be a lot. Are you sure you're up for it?" You hated that you were in so much debt, when you'd ventured out alone to own your own place you'd been so sure it would be great you could pay it back in no time.
"No issue, I assure you, I didn't become the CEO Of Min Media but shying away from challenges." Your debt wouldn't even cause a dent in his savings but he wasn't going to tell you that and make you feel bad about it.
"That means a lot...Thank you," You smiled warmly, the smile sent his stomach into knots once again, he really wanted to see someone about that.
"We need to keep everything strictly professional." You finally stated, looking up from your notepad and back at Yoongi who was, once again, staring at you.
"Agreed." He jotted it down on the notepad.
"Secondly, we can't tell anyone it's not real. It's imperative to me we keep everything hidden. We keep up a genuine illusion to appease my family and the shareholders." He told you, if anyone found out this was all fake he'd most likely lose his shareholdings as well as be the laughingstock of the media world.
"Agreed." You wrote it down, and Yoongi eyed you up. You'd been quiet about your family finding out and it worried him a little. He didn't want you to go around telling anyone it was fake, it would only take one slip-up for the world to know.
"What about your family?"
"What about them?" You asked, staring up at him with a blank expression on your face, Yoongi frowned.
"You can't tell them the truth." He reminded you and you nodded, your lips in a line as you shrugged your shoulders a little.
"Not a problem, I haven't spoken to them in almost four years since I went out on my own to own a cafe."
"Understood. We must present as a united front," He stared at you. His heart felt heavy at the thought of your family ignoring you for following your dreams. 
"We will have to attend social events together, support each other publicly and appear as a happy married couple at all times." You nodded at him.
"I can handle that." It was no big deal, you'd get to dress fancy for a while and it would be fun,
"Living arrangements?" Yoongi wrote down and then stared at you,
"Well, I currently have a place in the lower part of Seoul, you're more than welcome to come and live with me," You teased only to be met with widened eyes.
"That was a joke Yoongi," You clarified with a small laugh,
"You can move in with me." He stated plainly, you frowned at him. As much as you hated your place you weren't sure moving in with him was the best idea.
"Is it necessary though?"
"Yn, once we're seen together you'll never get peace...People will want to know why a soon-to-be-married couple are living separately." You knew he was right, there would be too many questions and you didn't want to have to deal with them,
"Okay."
"I'll arrange a moving van for you tomorrow." He smiled, writing down on a sticky note to remind himself once the two of you were done.
"Can I suggest one more?"
"Sure." He looked up at you, expecting something about asking to be paid, or for more than you were getting out of it. All of which he was willing to do if it meant getting what he needed out of you.
"No falling in love. It's a business arrangement and any romantic feelings that may develop should be ignored." Yoongi was taken back but nodded his head at you. 
"Of course. We have a deal." He smiled shaking your hand across the table.
With a sense of determination, you added a final clause to your contract: Yoongi would take over the financial management of Pages & Aromas, ensuring its stability and prosperity while also shouldering the burden of its debts.
"We will be announcing our marriage this weekend, it'll be held here. In the meantime, I'll pay your rent for the cafe," He stated as you both signed along the pieces of paper, Yoongi took them both into his grasp and filed them in his drawer his eyes lingering over the clause about not falling in love.
"I'd like it if you didn't work for a few months if that's okay?" He suggested, staring at you as you frowned.
"We can fix up the shop a little, have it redone to your specifications and then announce it as a grand opening." 
"What am I supposed to do in the meantime?"
"You can do whatever you want, money is no issue."
"It is for me."
"We'll be married, what's mine...is yours," He stated before laying down a black card in front of you.
"Yoongi, it's already enough you're helping my business I can't take your money too." The statement was shocking, everyone Yoongi knew was always after his money, it was why he'd never dated in the past.
"Fine. But please keep it, you can use it as an emergency card, or if you need an outfit for an event...it's yours," He told you as you flipped the card over, already finding your name inscribed on it, had he been so sure about all of it since this morning?
"Okay. Fine."
"I'll have Alan drive you home and I'll see you tomorrow at my place." He smiled warmly at you as you got up from the chair, feeling a little overwhelmed with everything but nodding your head.
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With a sense of nervousness mingled with excitement, you stepped into Yoongi's luxurious penthouse apartment. Your final box had been taken up by a group of men and you were unsure of what you were supposed to do now. You walked through the door, slipping off your shoes before your eyes widened at the opulence that surrounded you. The spacious living area was adorned with sleek modern furniture and tasteful artwork while floor-to-ceiling windows offered sweeping views of the city skyline below. You could practically see all of Seoul from up here, how did he get anything done? You knew you'd find yourself people-watching more than you should.
Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you set about unpacking your belongings, your mind racing with thoughts of the new chapter that lay ahead. As you sorted through boxes and arranged your stuff in their designated places, you couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place in such a lavish environment.
"Mr Min will be late this evening, he said to make yourself at home," Alan, who had driven you home the night previous, said with a warm smile on his face. But how were you supposed to do that? You didn't know what you were and weren't allowed to do or even where to go. Did he have rooms off-limits to you? More questions flooded your mind but as the afternoon waned into evening, you found solace in the familiar routine of preparing dinner, the rhythmic chopping of vegetables and the sizzle of food cooking on the stove grounding you in the present moment.
You'd always loved cooking, you were hungry and determined to make a good impression on Yoongi. Even going as far as to make your famous cake no one could say no to it.
By the time Yoongi arrived home, the apartment was filled with the tantalizing scent of home-cooked food and freshly baked treats. Stepping through the door, he was greeted by the sight of you bustling about the kitchen, a warm smile gracing your lips.
"Welcome home," You said, your voice infused with genuine warmth, something Yoongi hadn't had the pleasure of hearing in years. His eyes lit up with surprise and appreciation as he took in the scene before him. 
"You've been busy," he remarked, a note of amusement in his voice as he watched you carefully. You shrugged modestly, a warm feeling spreading onto your cheeks. 
"I wanted to do something nice for you. Dinner will be ready soon, and I made cake." Yoongi's smile widened as he crossed the room to envelop you in a grateful hug.
"Thank you, Yn. You didn't have to do all this." You were in shock at the hug at first, your heart thumping as you tried not to overthink it. He was just grateful for the food. You smiled a little, returning the embrace, a sense of contentment settling over you. 
"I know. But I wanted to." You admit before going to set everything down on the table ready to eat. 
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It had been almost a week since the news had broke that you and Yoongi were going to be married and he'd been right. People followed you EVERYWHERE. You'd gone grocery shopping two nights after the news was released and you'd been followed by men with cameras, all of them screaming questions at you. Luckily you and Yoongi had already come up with a story for you both, something easy to remember. You'd met because of his grandfather and it had almost been love at first sight. 
Tonight though you were at a restaurant together, your hands linked on the table as you stared lovingly at one another. All of it feels a little too real for you. 
"Tell me something about you that I wouldn't find in a magazine or news article." You begged Yoongi. Since moving in with him you'd done extensive research on him, wanting to be prepared in case any of his crazy family members tried to doubt the two of you. 
Yoongi stared at you, hesitating for a moment as he thought about it. He was torn between the desire to open up to you and betraying your agreement but the look in your eyes made it hard to resist. 
"Well, I've always loved astronomy," He confessed, his eye staring down at the glass feeling suddenly vulnerable.
"There's something about the vastness of the universe that puts everything into perspective." Your eyes lit up with interest, finally, something about him that wasn't run-of-the-mill CEO shit.
"That's beautiful," You whispered, 
"I've always been drawn to the stars as well." You admit, the two of you getting lost in conversation and completely forgetting about the many people snapping photos of you together. Yoongi let himself open up to you more, finding himself falling in a freefall for you. His head reminded him of the agreement you'd made together, no falling in love and he couldn't risk jeopardizing everything. 
"Why haven't you spoken to your family?" He suddenly found himself asking over dessert, your fork freezing midway to your mouth as your throat suddenly ran dry.
"They decided they didn't want me to ruin their family name,"
"But you were following your dreams, shouldn't that be something they were proud of you for doing?" He didn't understand how someone couldn't support the person they loved in everything that they did. 
"The Score family don't follow dreams, they crush them," Your voice was flat and dry as you placed your fork down.
"Score? As in-"
"Lawyers, the best in the business." You hissed out, you hated that all of this was being bought up but you owed it to Yoongi to tell him the truth.
"I don't speak to them, biologically I'm their daughter but legally I'm not."
"You were emancipated?" He watched you closely and you nodded your head,
"As soon as I left the company I did it myself," You admit with a smile on your face, you were proud of what you'd done. Being a lawyer had never been your dream and if the people that had raised you had it their way you'd still be another cog in the inner workings of their awful company.
"Believe me Yoongi, they have nothing to do with me-" His hand was on top of yours, rubbing over your skin in a soothing motion.
"It wouldn't bother me if they were still in your life." He promises, a weight being lifted from your chest as you let out a happy sigh.
The two of you continued to talk all night long, discovering things each other you hadn't known before and it was starting to feel like a true friendship was forming.
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Months began to fly by as you and Yoongi worked on your fake relationship and countless parties you attended together, business and personal, but tonight was the one you were most nervous about. You were pacing around in the living room of the apartment waiting for Yoongi to come down and meet you. Your hands nervously played with the purse you were holding, the prospect of meeting his family tonight looming over your head like a dark cloud. 
The door to the living room opened and Yoongi stepped inside, freezing when he saw you pacing around but he couldn't take his eyes off you. You were in a stunning floor-length gown, crimson colour to match his tie but it clung to your body perfectly, seeing you turned his blood to fire. You paced away from him giving him the perfect view of the back of the gown, which had a crisscrossing strap at the back, the fabric shimmering and glowing with every step you took.
"I don't know if I can do this." You admit to Yoongi once you notice him there. You'd been faking it with everyone and everyone believed you so far but were his family going to be so easy to convince?
"Your family...they're going to see right through me." Your voice trembled with uncertainty and Yoongi smiled weakly walking over to you. He was nervous himself but he wasn't going to admit it to you.
"Yn, you're stronger than you think." He told you, his hand gently reaching out and rubbing your arm.
"We'll get through tonight, together." He had no doubt the two of you could convince his family you were together, to be honest, he had a hard time convincing himself it wasn't real. 
"What if they ask about our relationship and I cock the story up? What if they see through me?" He smiled down at you, running his hand over your cheek.
"We'll handle it, Yn. I won't let anything happen to you," And he meant it, if anything were to ever happen to you he knew he'd never survive it. 
After months of spending every second by your side, he felt himself falling harder and harder in love with you until the point where everything was blurred except for you. All he cared about was a future with you. His words were like a lifeline pulling you back from the edge of panic, you took in a deep breath and forced yourself to focus on everything again. 
"And if they don't believe us? What happens to me?" You asked, your voice tinged with apprehension.
"I'll make sure your business is taken care of, I'll not let anything happen to you but for now, let's focus on getting through tonight together." He whispers, kissing your hand softly as you feel a spark running through your veins. No matter what challenges lay ahead, you knew that as long as you faced them together, you could conquer anything that stood in your way. And with that realization, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders, replaced by a glimmer of hope.
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As the two of you made your way through the entrance, all eyes turned to greet you, your presence as a couple commanding attention amidst the sea of glamorous attendees. 
"They're staring." You uttered to Yoongi as he smirked, his arm wrapped around your waist as the two of you walked together, your steps synchronized in harmony. Heads turned, smiles were exchanged and greetings were offered as you passed by people. 
"How could they not? You look like you stepped out of a magazine, you look beautiful." It wasn't the first compliment that Yoongi had ever paid you, in fact, you'd grown used to the compliments he'd give to you all the time. Including the small hugs and kisses the two of you would share even if you were in public, it was clear lines were starting to blur but you weren't entirely sure you minded anymore.
"Look, it's Min Yoongi and his fiancée," Someone whispered, their voice tinged with awe. 
"They're a stunning couple." Her date said back to her, their eyes trailing over you both as you moved through the crowd. 
"Let's give them something to talk about," Yoongi whispered but before you had a chance to ask what he was talking about he was taking you over to the dance floor. 
His hand rested gently on your waist, guiding you with a tender pull as you began to move around the dance floor together, the rest of the world fading into the background. 
Your movements were slow and deliberate, each steps a silent conversation between you as you swayed to the rhythm of the music. Your heart raced with every beat, your breath catching in your throat as you allowed yourself to be swept up by the magic of the moment.
"You look beautiful," Yoongi whispered, your eyes locking as you stared at one another.
"You said that already," You mumbled nervously as he smirked to himself, moving in time with you as you fell back into a comfortable silence. Not a single word needed to be uttered as you knew what was happening to you, you were falling in love with him too fast and everything was falling apart around you. You continued to dance together, neither of you daring to speak the words that lingered in the back of your head. Knowing that acknowledging your love would shatter the delicate illusion you'd worked so hard to maintain.
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"So this is the lovely Yn." You turned your head to face Juliain, Yoongi's father and Yoongi wrapped his arm tighter around your waist.
"Lovely dance the two of you did, your mother made me dance shortly after." He chuckles softly but Yoongi remains deadpan and unreadable, his grip on you tightening. You'd heard about Julilan from both Rath and Yoongi and you knew the man was bad news, a slimeball only after money.
"Julilan. Lovely to see you, shame you didn't make it to grandfather's funeral, it was a lovely service." Yoongi said coldly, your eyes staring up at him. Julian had refused to go to the funeral but had gone to the reading of the will, only to see what he was entitled to. 
"I have no doubt, you always knew how to throw a party." Julian laughed but your heart shattered, Rath had been an amazing man and to insinuate that a party was held for his dying instead of a grand funeral boiled your blood.
"Party? A man died-"
"Hush. You don't speak unless spoken to." Julian said in a dismissive tone, your mouth dropping open as you couldn't believe the man in front of you. 
"With all due respect, sir, I am not a decoration on Yoongi's arm I am his Fiancée," You spoke clearly but Julian turned to look at his son who was now red in the face,
"I see she has no manners or concept of brains. Where did you pick her up? A brothel?" Your stomach dropped as you looked down at yourself, was he implying you looked like a whore? The woman who had dressed you tonight told you that you'd looked elegant.
"Don't." Yoongi seethed through gritted teeth,
"Women should be seen and not heard. Act like the trophy wife you are meant to be." Julian was in your face but within seconds he was shoved away by Yoongi, a smirk playing on his father's lips as he realised he was getting under his skin.
"Don't speak to my wife like that." He ordered but you pulled at his arm, you could already see people starting to stare and Yoongi didn't need the bad press.
"You're not married yet. Are you really going to cause a scene over a woman? Behave." He hissed at him, you stared at him as you waited for him to insult him one last time.
"Still just a child." He muttered, about to walk away when you finally found your voice once more.
"A child who has done more than you'll ever accomplish in your life." You hissed out at him, earning a smirk from Yoongi, he had to admit he was proud of you for not backing down from him.
"Why you little-" A hand was raised in the air but Yoongi caught it, shoving his father away from you.
"I see why you hate the man." You mumbled as Yoongi checked on you, his eyes softening once he saw you were okay.
"If he'd hurt you just then." It didn't bear to think about, he was angry, blood-curdling as he thought about the way his father had gone to strike you. 
"He didn't." You whispered to him, your hand rubbing his back softly but it did nothing to calm him down right now.
"I'd kill him."
"Yoongi." You pleaded with him, but he was lost in his own anger.
"He's a disgusting piece of shit and I would have killed him." You stepped in front of him, your eyes finding his as he stared down at you in shock,
"But then I'd have no one to watch the stars with," You whispered only for his whole body to relax and he nodded slowly at you.
"Let's get some food and go out on the balcony, we can go and look at the stars and pretend Julian isn't even here," You offered to him.
Yoongi ventured off to fetch some food and you found yourself alone in the gala, looking around at everyone who was dancing together or mingling. This world was something you'd never thought you'd fit into before but after spending so much time in it, it almost felt like home.
"Ah, Yn dear, there you are." You slowly turned around to see Mia, Rath's ex-wife making her way to you with a giant smile on her face.
"I've been meaning to have a word with you," She said as she reached you, her voice gentle and a welcoming contrast compared to her son.
"Of course, Mrs Min. Is everything alright?" You eyed her up as she smiled, her eyes twinkling with mischief. 
"No one's called me that in years, call me Mia." She begged, you nodded at her and slowly made your way out onto the balcony to talk better together.
"I wanted to first tell you how happy I am that Evan has found someone like you." Your eyes widened in surprise, your heart fluttering at the unexpected praise.
"T-Thank you, Mia. That means a lot to me." Mia reached out to pat your hand affectionately.
"You know, I've seen the way he looks at you. It reminds me of the way Rath used to look at me." Your breath caught in your throat at the implication of her words.
"I...I'm not sure what you mean." She chuckled softly at you,
"Oh, my dear, don't be so modest. It's written all over his face- He loves you, and I couldn't be happier for the both of you, even if you were faking it at first." You smiled weakly, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to process everything you'd just heard. Yoongi loved you - truly, deeply and unequivocally and that sent a surge of panic through you.
"Rath would have adored seeing you both together," Mia added before giving you an envelope.
"In my side of the will I was to give this to the beautiful girl from the cafe, now I assume that's you." You stared down at the envelope and nodded, quickly placing it into your bag to look at another time, when you weren't so stressed. 
"I-I have to go," You rushed out, panic taking over you as you began to hurry through the crowded hall. Your mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear, you loved him too but there was no way you could do this. You raced around a corner when you collided with Yoongi, sending you both sprawling to the floor.
"Yn, what's wrong?" Concern was etched in his features as he reached out to steady you. Your breathing turned tagged as you struggled to compose yourself, slowly standing up.
"I...I need to talk to you," Your voice barely came out above a whisper but Yoongi nodded, leading you to a nearby alcove away from prying eyes.
"What is it, Yn? You're shaking." He reached out to touch you and you took in a deep breath, words tumbling out in a rush as you fought to make sense of everything.
"I just spoke to your grandmother, and she...she said that you love me, Yoongi. And...I...I don't know what to do." Yoongi's expression softened as he reached out to cup your trembling hands in his, his touch sending a shiver of warmth coursing through you.
"Yn, listen to me. I know this is overwhelming but you need to understand something...you belong here with me," You stared up at him as he didn't deny falling for you, tears welling up in your eyes as you shook your head.
"I ran away from this world."
"And now you're back but I promise it'll be nothing like your family's world." He breathed out as you stared at him, his eyes boring into you,
"You belong here, with me."
` "What if you suddenly decide I'm not good enough for you? What if I can't give you everything you deserve?" Yoongi brushed a gentle thumb across your cheek, wiping away a tear.
"You're everything I need, Yn. Your love, your strength, your unwavering support - it's more than I could ever hope for. And as long as we have each other, we can face whatever comes our way." Tears began to melt away as you stared at him.
"I love you, Yoongi." You whispered, the words feeling like a weight was taken right off our chest.
"I love you, Yn, Always." He whispered. 
With a soft sigh, he closed the distance between you and you leaned in slowly to him. It felt like an eternity until your lips met in a tender kiss, time seemed to stand still as you savoured the sweetness of the moment, your hearts beating in harmony as you finally surrendered to the pull of love. It was a kiss so full of tenderness and longing, of hope and promise. 
When you pulled away your foreheads touched and you giggled a little.
"Let's go home, I wanna show you how much I really love you," He winks, as you squeal a little taking his hand and practically dragging him out of the party.
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Months Later 
"CEO'S Expecting: Min Yoongi and Min Yn Announce Pregnancy, Anticipate The New Heir To The Legacy?" You read out the title of the "Webber Files" newspaper and stared over at Yoongi with a blank expression.
"I see why their paper sucks," You grumbled, folding it up and staring at your husband who hadn't been able to take his eyes off you.
"Don't look at me like that, the last time you looked at me like that, this happened!" You stated, pointing down at your baby bump and whining at him.
"But we had fun," He wiggled his eyebrows at you and sat down beside you on the sofa, the two of you curling up together on a lazy Saturday morning.
"We did," You giggled as he ran his hand over your bump, smiling happily to himself. Not long after you found out you were expecting Yoongi told you the other stipulation about getting his grandfather's portion of the company and that was a child but you couldn't have been happier it was happening.
"Julian will flip a lid." You laughed at the thought of his father finding out about his son having a child but more importantly, you couldn't wait for him to figure out he was getting nothing in the will besides a small shop in the middle of nowhere.
"Oh, I meant to say. Gran asked if you'd looked into the envelope yet. Whatever that means," He frowns and you reach out for your bag, opening it up to find the envelope still sitting there.
As you took it out and opened it you couldn't believe what you were reading.
"By now I assume Yoongi and yourself are together and knowing My Mia she would have given this to you at the appropriate time, but enclosed are the deeds to your cafe. All yours, all paid for, as well as the number to my lawyer who will arrange for you to inherit some money as an investment to you and your dream.
Best Wishes,
Rath,"
You and Yoongi stared at one another, laughing a little as you realised Rath had been planning your get-together for a very long time.
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billysgun · 4 months
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jealously
billy the kid x cowgirl!reader |during a party for the house, you catch girls flirting with billy and can't stand it, little do you know, billy feels the same way when he finds you talking to one of the members|
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you suck your gums once more as you rest the rim of the cup on your chin, swaying as you stare daggers at the girl who won't leave billy fucking alone
first, out of nowhere in the street, then at poker, and now at this stupid fucking party.
Mrs. Riley dared to doe her eyes and flutter her lashes as billy shifted uncomfortably
"you're very good-looking, billy..can we go somewhere?"
billys eyes drift to yours and you can't take it anymore as you turn down the hallway
you arent together, you aren't exclusive, and you've never talked about being something more..things just happened and clothes were forgotten about as mindless kissing turned into nightly fucking.
you downed another whiskey as the house chattered, dying to distract yourself as your gang drunkenly laughed by the make-shift bar and you decide to join them
as your head tilts back to slam more shots than you can count, you feel a hand rub your hip.
"now I think that's enough for you, cowgirl!" Jesse cheers, and you roll your eyes, hand swiping for the whiskey he stole from you while you stumble back, subconsciously hoping that was a different hand on your hip...
you drink and cheer with your gang as you sway deeper into the night deciding to forget about your troubles
"Y/n can I talk to you?" you barely hear his voice from the yelling around you, but you turn to see billy with a solemn expression
"you can talk right here" you tell him, reaching for another drink but billy softly grabs your hand
"nah, not right here..." he mumbles, you turn and he's about to lead you down the hallway when Jesse snatches your arm
"hey man, what's your issue?" Jesse questions, feeding you more liquor but billy slaps the glass away from you
"why don't you let go of her fuckin' arm?" he asks, protectively standing in front of you once Jesse lets his hand fall
"didn't know shit was like that, man" he says with his palms out, you suddenly sober up as the entire situation hit you and you're dragging billy to the nearest bathroom to fucking scream
you slam the door but it's barely audible from the music yelling outside, you turn to him as he stumbles toward you
"what the fuck was that?"
billy looks confused as you practically shake with anger
"those men out there just lost the little respect they had for me" you feel your insides boil as he starts to understand
"no one saw" he shakes his head and you push his chest
"what? no one has fuckin' mouths anymore? now I'm your little fuckin' thing to screw" your entire body is hot as you scream at him, he doesn't meet your eyes as he seems pissed himself
"then why you lettin' his hand roam all over you?" he spits you feel your chest cave in
"are you seriously gonna call me a whore for a hand on the hip? really billy?" you say through gritted teeth, he reaches for you but you move away
"no, no that's not what I meant" he quickly corrects himself but you're done with him, thinking maybe he saw you as something more than just a slut
you open the door but he shuts it before you can leave, you turn and see he's only a few inches away
"I'd never think that about you...ever" he whispers, sincerity all over his tongue as his eyes almost water with honesty and you take a lip in before you admit something yourself
"I thought it was you" you mumbled, you watched his brows furrow and you quickly added,
"I thought you were grabbin' on me...when I saw it was Jesse I backed up."
"shit...I'm sorry...that's all I saw until she pulled me away-"
you interrupt him with a scoff, knowing immediately that she was Irene
"I can't stand that woman, callin' you an outlaw like it's some sexy shit. fuckin' piece of work." you look up to see billy laughing at you
"what?" you feel your face glow as he cups one of your cheeks,
"are you jealous of her?" he asks, a cocky smile on his lips as you scoff once more
"you were jealous of a hand"
"hey, that hand didn't have a ring on it!" he quickly defends
"yeah, well after that outburst the whole town probably knows we're screwin'" you mumble
"maybe that's a good thing" billy adds, you stare up at him as he brushes your lower lip
"I want people to know you're mine and I'm yours" he whispers, you feel your heart quicken as the air around you stills
"...I want that too, billy" you barely mumble out as he dips down to kiss you softly
you can't stop smiling as his lips sweetly lap over yours, knowing that sneaking him into your room nightly wasn't just fucking, it was lovemaking.
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an: ily guys so much! thank you thank you thank you for 400 followers!!! mwah!! <333
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jaegersdevil · 4 months
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falling foolishly [satoru x reader]
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"they're such children," shoko rolled her eyes, kicking a piece of ice away from her foot. you pursed your lips as you watched satoru throw another snowball at suguru, the latter cackling at the feeling of it hitting his bare neck.
satoru stumbled over as he gathered another handful of snow, eyes on suguru as he did the same on the other side of the path. the footpath was slippery under your feet, and the path lights above you glowed a warm yellow over the snow-covered shrubbery.
the wind blew through you and you squeezed your eyes shut at the night air. fisting your hands in your jacket pockets, you sniffled, your cheeks icy and toes numb. shoko sighed and shook her head at the boys.
"bitch!" satoru exclaimed, losing his footing before lobbing a handful of snow that landed nowhere near suguru.
"ok! i'm done. finished. stop."
"booooo!" satoru yelled, but he didn't lean down and continued walking straight. "i won, though. you didn't even hit me."
suguru grumbled something unintelligible but dug his hands in his pockets and shouldered his best friend.
"thank god," shoko mumbled. "if i had to take one of them to the hospital again i was going to kill them."
you snickered, yet you couldn't help but slow your steps and lean down discreetly. your gloveless fingers burned with pain at the sudden coldness, but that didn't deter you from making a perfect ball.
shoko noticed you weren't beside her anymore and glanced over her shoulder. "you're annoying too, you know."
you grinned, silently making your way back to her side. "how much do you think he'll whine if i hit him?"
shoko barked a laugh and nodded. "do it. he needs his ego bruised a bit."
so, you raised your arm and aimed the snowball at the white-haired boy. a giggle slipped past your lips and you threw it.
"bullseye!" shoko yelled, her laughter echoing through the park's darkness.
satoru stopped walking and placed his hand in his hair. your jaw was still open, falling when it had hit him square in the back of his head.
he spun around, finger pointed at you. "i knew it was you. you're gonna get it," and then he started running toward you.
suguru held his chest as he chuckled and moved next to shoko as they watched satoru bend down to wrap his arms around your thighs and throw you over his shoulder.
"toru!" you squealed, your arms flailing to try and grasp onto his torso. you struggled to breathe as you laughed before you felt yourself being pulled backwards.
next thing you knew, snow surrounded you as he put you into a pile of it. satoru threw himself on top of you, his cheeks were red from the cold.
"naughty. looks like you're not getting that really pretty necklace santa has in his sack for you."
"he'll give it to me," you tried to smother your smile by biting your lip, hands on satoru's neck.
"how can you be so sure?" he teased, fingers dancing under your jacket. "after this incredibly disrespectful action against me?"
your eyes flickered to his lips. "because he loves me too much."
satoru’s eyes widened and he moved his lips into a pout. "wowww, so santa’s your new man, huh? isn’t he a little old?"
you smacked his shoulder and laughed, hands running over his wet hair.
"boo hoo! you're just upset you got hit with a snowball!" shoko called from further up the path, suguru beside her.
rolling his eyes, satoru climbed off you and pulled you up with him. "are you happy now? i'm getting bullied."
you shook your head, ignoring him while you leaned up to slant your lips over his.
he smiled against your mouth and circled one arm around your waist, the other snaking around your neck. you felt yourself going sideways, shoes slipping slightly as satoru dipped you.
"let me take a photo," you barely heard suguru over the rushing in your ears when satoru pulled his lips away from yours with a bright grin.
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rinneverse · 11 months
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࿐ ♡ ˚ . 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 — honkai star rail hcs ˒ ⊹
— synopsis: random hc’s about the ways the hsr men love you.
— characters: dan heng, blade, jing yuan, && gepard.
— warnings: lots of emotions and love and sappy words!!, f!reader, praise, pet names (baby, good girl), p in v penetration, mating press (blade). very soft and fluffy, i think. :-)
— notes: i did not mean to disappear for like 3 months LMFAOOOO ,, but hi! i’m back and the honkai star rail brainrot is STRONG. i hope i did them justice !!
MINORS DNI - 18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT.
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✧˚ · . 𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆. ༉‧₊˚.**
→ dan heng is cautious, at first, when it comes to the relationship budding between the two of you. he’s deeply afraid of hurting you, losing you, driving you away.
→ he’s afraid of the intensity in which he loves you—a fire that consumes his very being. his every thought is plagued with you, and it’s something that scares him. but he wants to brave it. for you.
→ your smile, the tilt of your head, the way you carry yourself; he finds himself falling for you harder every day. like he’s been thrown off of a cliff, left to freefall, but the ground is nowhere to be seen.
→ and when he finally gets his hands on you, it’s like a supernova in his chest, an explosion spreading stardust across the whole galaxy. it’s ridiculous, really, how it’s like a giant weight has been lifted off of his shoulders as he holds you in his arms, his lips melding against yours. it’s perfect; two pieces of a puzzle slotting perfectly together.
→ and when he takes you for the first time, in the comfort of your silken sheets, hands intertwined with yours, he finds himself complete—like he doesn’t have to run anymore.
♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡
“baby,” dan heng groans into the crook of your neck. his hips stutter a little as he bottoms out, and the feeling of your heat surrounding him sends a violent shiver down his spine. you lay there below him, staring up at him with nothing but adoration in your eyes, and dan heng thinks to himself that he’s never seen anything more ethereal.
“heng,” you sigh, legs wrapping around his lean waist. “you feel so good.”
he can feel his heart hammering in his ribcage, pressing impossibly closer to you as you whisper sweet praises in his ear. he needs you. he needs all of you, and in return, he’ll give you all of him.
when he pulls out, the drag of his heavy cock against your walls has you keening, breath hitching in your throat as just the blunt head is left—and then he’s slamming back in, and you feel like you’re falling, head light and spinning with pleasure as dan heng sets a steady pace.
“please, please, please,” you plead with a sob of his name. dan heng can feel his cock throb with desire at the sound of his name falling from your lips.
“again,” he grunts, rolling his hips so deliciously that it has your lips parting in a silent moan. “say my name again.”
“dan—dan heng!”
he slips a hand between your sweaty bodies, quickly seeking out your aching clit. the moment he’s touching you there, your back is arching and you think that you’re seeing stars behind your eyelids. you cum with another cry of his name and that sends him right along with you, hastily jerking his hips away as his cum spurts all over your navel.
and as he lays there with you, coming down from his high, he thinks that he’s finally found a place he can call home.
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✧˚ · . 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄. ༉‧₊˚.
→ it’s not often you draw verbal affirmations of love from blade. in fact, it’s scarce, and something you’ve come to terms with. rarely do you ever hear the man utter the words, ‘i love you.’
→ instead, you’ve learned to read between the lines with him—the gentle way in which he treats you, the softening of his gaze as it lands on you, the way he protects you with every ounce of his being.
→ blade is not a man who speaks reverent poems, love songs, or otherwise to you. he shows his love through his actions, through his subtle body language, and especially through the way he worships your body. not one inch is left untouched by him, and you are left trembling and dizzy and full of the love that drifts unsaid between the two of you.
→ even as he ravages your body on those rougher nights, you still feel the adoration that overflows from him, in the way he leaves a blazing trail of kisses down the length of your spine, grunts and groans spilling from his lips as he pulls you ever closer.
♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡
“blade, wait— please, s’too much,” you sob as blade pistons into you mercilessly. he’s got you folded in half, his mouth hot on the sensitive flesh of your neck as he bites—ripping a sob from deep in your chest.
he doesn’t respond, even as your hands tug at the silky length of his hair—pulling a guttural groan from him. and as he lifts his head to look down at you, tears streaking down your cheeks and drool forming at the corner of your lips; something animalistic, something feral glints in his eyes.
“oh, fuck. you like this, yeah? you like when i use you like this? you’re clenching so good around me. takin’ me so good.” he’s breathless as he speaks, lips swooping down to capture yours in a heated kiss. he’s right—you’re clenching so tightly around him, toes curling as he hits just the right spot inside of you.
you’re floating, weightless and utterly exhausted by the time he’s done with you. blade lays beside you, an arm wrapped around your waist as the two of you take a minute to catch your breath.
“… stay here. i’ll be right back.”
you suppress a laugh as blade rolls out of your bed—as if you were going to move anywhere anytime soon. after a few moments of silence, you hear the bathtub faucet start running. a warm feeling blossoms in your chest as blade returns.
he doesn’t say anything as he scoops you up in his arms. you sluggishly throw your arms around him and plant a wet kiss on his cheek.
“love you, bladie. ♡”
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✧˚ · . 𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍. ༉‧₊˚.
→ jing yuan is confident. sly. a renowned general of the cloud knights.
→ so why is it that he’s reduced to a fumbling mess around you? he doesn’t understand. it’s something he struggles to wrap his head around—how one second, he’s thinking of all the ways he’d like to woo you, and the next, he’s flushing, stuttering dumbly as you stare up at him with those damned eyes of yours.
→ maybe that was it. the way your eyes seem to pierce through the essence of his very being; if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you one of fu xuan’s assistants in the divination commission. but he does know better, and it’s something that he’s grateful for—he’s not sure how you would view him had you been under fu xuan’s influence. maybe as a scoundrel, since she’s so insistent on viewing him as one.
→ but enough of that. he’s sick of the way he seems to lose all his swagger around you, so one day he sucks it up, puts his big boy general pants on, and asks you out on a dinner date. the way you tilt your head at him has his heart seizing in his chest—until you laugh so gently, a smile gracing your lips as you nod your head.
→ a melodic sound: that’s what your laugh was to him. he’d like to hear that over and over and over again. perhaps he’d like to draw other melodies out of you, play you like an instrument—but for now, he’s content with this.
♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡
there’s electricity in the air, a tension on the verge of snapping as jing yuan guides you to your bed. hickeys litter the vast expanse of your neck and collar, something that makes his chest swell with pride. with desire.
he’s the one doing this to you—the one causing that foggy daze in your eyes as you look at him with such adoration, pupils blown wide. he can feel the lust in your gaze; he’s returning it tenfold with his own golden ones. he grins down at you.
“baby,” he says. “spread your legs for me. there you go—good girl.”
he hums, pleased, as you listen obediently. he flips up the fabric of your skirt, pausing at the sight of the lacy white panties you wore. his tongue flicks out to wet his lips.
oh, he was going to devour you. whole.
you thread a hand through his soft hair as he lowers himself to the apex of your thighs, breath ghosting over the most sensitive part of you—you’re so worked up that even the fabric in between barely does anything to separate you from him.
“sweetheart,” jing yuan speaks lowly. his voice is a deep rumble, and your thighs would’ve clenched together if it weren’t for his strong hands holding you open.
“i want to absolutely ruin you.”
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✧˚ · . 𝐆𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐃. ༉‧₊˚.
→ gepard’s large stature is juxtaposed by the gentle way he treats you. as if you were fragile glass, or perhaps a beautiful statue made of ice, his every touch is.. not quite hesitant, but calculated, made to only treat you with reverence. he worships you, your very soul, everything that you are. he adores you.
→ he is a protector at his core. he would do anything for you. he is always sure to take care of you before himself - your pleasure comes first. in fact, he thinks that he gets off when he makes you feel good. it makes his chest swell with pride and his cock twitch with desire.
→ often, he’s occupied on the frontlines, protecting belobog with all of his might. that just makes the time spent together with you even more precious. it’s not something he takes for granted—whatever time you get together, you best believe all of his attention is on you.
→ he’s treating you to a candlelit dinner, buying you flowers, taking you shopping, the whole package. he’s got a captain’s salary, after all—and he’s using it all to spoil you. he buys you promise rings and a necklace with his initial on it, pretty earrings and bracelets and other trinkets to remind you of him when he’s away. he leaves you his clothes, sprayed with his cologne, when he knows he’ll be gone for longer than he wants to be.
♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡
“gepard,” you say gently, running a hand through his hair as he holds your hips tight. you straddle him, plush thighs pressed against his stronger ones as he ruts up against you. “slow down, baby, we have time..”
time. time was something that was becoming increasingly more scarce—more precious. he’d like to spend all his time with you, but duty calls; and so he treats this time he can spend with you as sacred, and he’d like to not waste a single second.
“i know, i know,” he says, voice strained with want. “it’s been so long. i need you.”
you’re not used to gepard being so forward like this—but it wasn’t something you were particularly against, either; the way he guides your hips down against his cock has a soft moan bubbling up in your throat.
“let me show you how much i love you.” he says, running strong hands along your sides. it sends a shiver up your spine, your heart hammering in your chest as he pulls you close.
you nod your head, heart full with adoration and want and everything that is gepard. “please.”
and he does, undressing you carefully and unravelling you at the core. and when he deems you ready, he’s sliding his heavy cock along your folds, drawing a whine from your throat. he only smiles as you desperately rut your hips to no avail, held down by his large hands.
he doesn’t tease for long, though—he never does, not when he values your pleasure above everything else. you let out a sob of relief as you feel him slowly slide in, cunt spasming around his thick girth as he inches in slowly. he’s always so careful with you—knows that he’s bigger than average, so he has to take his time. he doesn’t mind; never once has.
he holds you close as he makes love to you, bodies melding together perfectly. if the warmth and love between you two was something physical, he thinks that it could melt the eternal freeze that plagues belobog.
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please don't repost on other platforms. rbs and comments are super appreciated ♡ !!
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addledmongoose · 3 months
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Best of 2023 Good Omens Fanfiction
This is my list of the 20 best Good Omens fanfiction works I've read in 2023.
A few notes:
These are all complete works; there are no WIPs in the list.
Please feel free to let me know if a link stops working
It's not an ordered list. That would be far too difficult.
You'll probably recognize some of the most popular ones. They're popular for a reason, after all, but I hope you find something you haven't yet read.
The majority are full-length works, but there are definitely some shorter pieces.
These are certainly not the only good works I've read, but they are the ones I'm most likely to read more than once
Click the Keep Reading to see the list
If you're the author of one of these, first off, thank you! But second, if you want me to add your tumblr name to your story, let me know, and I'll edit.
This first section, they're still angel and demon, or at least one of them is. In other words, it's at least somewhat set in the Good Omens universe.
a lighthouse (burning) (108K; Rated M)
This one is canon divergent and set in the 19th century. Aziraphale goes to a lighthouse to figure out where all the lighthouse keepers disappeared to, and Crowley follows along. This one is a bit of a spooky mystery along with the romance, and the writing style is simply beautiful. You really get a sense of being trapped in this lighthouse in the middle of nowhere.
***
The Grindr Logo Doesn't Even Have a 'G' In It (79K; Rated E)
It's honestly hard to remember that this one isn't human AU, but they're still just as angelic/demonic as ever. Aziraphale joins Grindr and starts texting (and then sexting) with a charming young man. It's no secret to the reader who this new hookup is. This story is genuinely funny at times. I like the funny ones.
***
The Whole Damned World Seemed Upside Down (103K; Rated M)
This is one of the best reverse omens stories I've read that isn't technically a reverse omens. Crowley wishes things were different after leaving the bookshop, and the universe gives him his wish. He finds himself in a world where Aziraphale hates him, Death has trouble taking lives, and basically everything you knew about the world of Good Omens is upside down. It's very funny. It uses inline footnotes (which is good, because it has a LOT of footnotes), and Death is hilarious.
***
it's a new craze (5K; Rated T)
Another one that seems like it should be human AU but isn't. Crowley and Aziraphale start up a podcast after the Notpocalypse and gain a loyal fanbase who can't figure out if they're a couple or not. They often forget who their audience is and often reference events in their shared history that make no sense to the humans listening.
***
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a demon in possession of a mobile phone, must be in want of attention (6K; Rated G)
And yes, that is the entire title. Another funny short story where a couple of podcast hosts receive a call from a certain angel whose demon trapped himself in his phone and won't leave.
***
In Mixed Company, or the Corporate Retreat of Heaven and Hell (52K; Rated M)
I've read this one at least three times, and it's probably my favorite of all. Every 300 years, Heaven and Hell share a company retreat on Earth during which angels and demons surrender their celestial powers and hold retreats. It has a great new angel friend of Aziraphale's; Hellish Powerpoint presentations; Gabriel being annoyingly chipper; and Aziraphale and Crowley sneaking around like teenagers trying to find some alone time.
***
How To Woo A Demon (24K; Rated T)
Aziraphale researches demonic courtship rituals and starts implementing them in order to convince Crowley he wants to take their relationship to the next level. Crowley is very confused by Aziraphale's actions. Another cute, funny one.
***
Factory Settings (107K; Rated T)
This one is famous for coming out practically as S2 dropped, making people think whoever wrote it (the author is anonymous) had something to do with the production of the show.
This is the only one I'm going to say anything negative about. There are a lot of spelling errors and typos in it. It needs a hard editing pass. Despite that complaint, I devoured this story as fast as I could scroll. It's that good, and even knowing all the errors are there, I'll probably still re-read it. I'm usually pretty picky about errors like that, so for me to overlook it and even recommend it, means I really liked it.
Crowley gets reinstated as the angel, Raphael, with no memory of his time as Crowley, and Aziraphale struggles to return him to his demonic self. It's heart-breaking and wonderful and I absolutely loved it.
***
One Night In Bangor (And the World's Your Oyster) (17K: Rated E)
Much like In Mixed Company, Heaven and Hell come together for a corporate retreat on Earth. In this one, some totally random demon who's name definitely doesn't rhyme with Bowley created a wager in Hell to see which demon could bed an angel first.
Another funny one. This time, a lot of the humor comes from the demons doing their best to pick up the angels with really bad pickup lines.
***
We Only Said Goodbye with Words, I Died A Hundred Times (9K; Rated E)
If I could learn to write even half as good as this, I'd be ecstatic. The emotions the author packs into this story are mind-blowing.
Crowley receives a cursed amulet that creates an ever-increasing need for the person he wants the most and goes to Aziraphale.
***
To reveal my heart in ink (29K; Rated E)
Aziraphale starts writing letters to Crowley by mail. The letters they exchange slowly get more and more explicit.
***
Pray For Us, Icarus (66K; Rated G/T)
The author wrote this one as a series, so each one varies in chapter count and rating, but they tell a single, contiguous story.
This was the first long-form GO fanfiction I read, and it was way too close to the ending of S2. I really should've waited a while, because holy cow, is this one heartbreaking.
For three hundred years, Crowley has been reincarnated over and over as a human with no memory of his past. Aziraphale has spent those three hundred years trying to restore him to his true self.
The author, Atalan, is probably one of the best writers on the site. This story is stunning in the quality of its writing, in the pacing of the story, and in the emotions evoked. I normally don't like being sad (like I said, I like the funny ones), but I've saved this story off to make sure I always have it.
***
Pretend For Me (53K; Rated E)
In a panic, Aziraphale tells the archangels that he survived hellfire due to his soul mixing with Crowley's because they're in a romantic and sexual relationship, but now they want them to prove it.
I'm a sucker for fake relationship stories, and there aren't a whole lot of them where the characters are still angel/demon, but this one is. It's another fun one, though a bit more angsty than some of those I listed above.
***
The following are all human AU. Good chance you'll recognize all or most of these.
Married At First Sight (147K; Rated T)
One of the most recently completed stories in the list, this is a fake relationship story where Aziraphale and Crowley join a reality show that marries complete strangers off to each other. Their new marriage starts off on a less than idyllic foot and they decide to fake it for the show. The author is a master of making you want to scream "for fuck's sake, just talk to each other, you walnuts!"
Probably one of my favorite fake relationship stories.
***
Postcards From Paris (12K; Rated G)
The author, ghostrat (@mrghostrat), is a fantastic writer of human AU, and it's worth going through his entire backlist (and read his current WIPs, too).
Crowley moves into his Mayfair flat and starts receiving postcards addressed to the previous tenant from one A.Z.F., who is in Europe hunting for bizarre bibles and rating wine. Sweet and fluffy and the perfect antidote if you've just been on an angst binge.
***
Or Be Nice (151K; Rated E)
I stayed up until 6:30 in the morning reading this one, crashed for three hours, then read until I finished it. Then that night, I started it again.
This is, without hesitation, my all-time favorite human AU. It's funny. I love the author's version of the characters, and I will probably end up reading it again in just a few months. I probably already would have if it wasn't for the length of my Mark For Later and Subscription lists.
Crowley and Aziraphale are neighbors who get into a noise war. They both have their reasons for their actions, though to be honest, Crowley is a bit of an ass at first. Once they really start talking, though, they are absolutely wonderful together.
Even if you've never read a human AU, I recommend at least giving this one a try.
***
What We Make Of It (Shotgun Wedding) (213K; Rated E)
This is the third charlottemadison work on this list. 15% of this list is just this one author. That's how good they are.
Aziraphale works as an English teacher. Crowley is the guardian for his nephew, Adam, and works for a school testing company. Crowley can't risk his job dating his nephew's gorgeous and charming teacher. Unless...
Crowley comes up with a crazy plan. Now he just has to convince Aziraphale to go along with it.
Again, another very popular human AU. One thing I love about this story is how there's a lot less angst between the two characters, and how they both really care for Adam.
***
Slow Show (95K; Rated E)
The very first human AU I read. Didn't even think I'd like that specific genre until I read it. Now, as you can see, it's about half of my reading list.
This is an actor AU. Aziraphale (named Avery here) and Crowley are actors working together on a new show. Avery is an award-winning, straight-laced, well-respected actor; Crowley is a mess who immediately falls head-over-heels for him and somehow has to get through the show without letting his (apparently straight) costar realize that.
***
South Downs (76K; Rated E)
Another actor AU. This time, Aziraphale is an openly-gay actor, well-respected for his period drama work. Crowley is a once-blackballed actor who jumps at the chance to star in a gay Regency romance with Aziraphale in the hopes it can restart his career. The trouble is, Crowley is struggling to play the romantic lead opposite a man.
I love the growing friendship between these two as much as the romance. I love how comfortable and confident Aziraphale is here; and how caring he is toward Crowley's growing awareness of his sexuality.
***
This one doesn't really fit either category, so I'm putting it here.
The Rose and the Serpent (56K; Rated M)
By the same author as Pray For Us, Icarus comes a GO retelling of Beauty and the Beast. Aziraphale is sent off by his older brother, Gabriel, into the forest to be held hostage by a giant snake in a cursed castle. Turns out, neither the snake nor the castle are what he was expecting.
Light-hearted and with very memorable characters, the relationship between Crowley and Aziraphale is simply stunning. I love how Newt and Anathema are used here. The quality of this one is as good as Icarus, and I loved this one so much I could easily have read 300K more words.
***
And bonus: mine!
The Beginning of the End (Again) (79K; Rated M)
The first fanfiction I've ever written and the first book I've written in a decade. I had the first two chapters in mind after finishing S2, and the story grew from there. I actually have a sequel in mind after I finish another, separate fake relationship story.
Crowley spends months drowning his sorrows after Aziraphale accepts the Supreme Archangel position, until a group of demons shows up one day and tells him the Second Coming is nearly upon them, and they want him to stop it. Turns out being a demon isn't much fun if there are no humans left to tempt.
Aziraphale has spent these last months in Heaven looking for ways to stop the Second Coming while mourning the way he and Crowley left things. After discovering that Hell's minions have been tasked by the Metatron to escort the son of God on a tour of Earth in preparation for his Second Coming, he hurries down to see what's going on, fearing the worst.
Instead he discovers Crowley escorting the Messiah around Earth. Is his demon taking the son of God on dates?
932 notes · View notes
thatfreshi · 7 months
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Can I request an Astarion x reader fic where the reader keeps getting hit on/cat called by random people, and she brushes it off at first but it slowly becomes evident that it really bothers her, and needs someone to intervene or comfort her?
TW - Sexual harassment, threat of kidnapping
Recommended Song: Used - SZA FT. Don Toliver
Ah taverns, such wondrous places of inebriation and sloppy people of all creeds. You and Astarion are party people, despite his introverted nature. It's more about being two people thriving in chaos, playing the other patrons like pawns to make the night exciting, flirting with a stranger to snatch their drink from the bar, and all of those morally grey things. Sure, maybe it's not ethical to steal, but it sure is fun.
It's not a secret that you are two of the most good-looking regulars, but it's also well-known that you're severely monogamous. In fact, it's gotten very close to voyeurism multiple times, which has gotten you kicked out of a couple places. You don't mind public displays of affection, even if they're a little far gone at times. All of that to say, it's hard not to notice when you arrive.
Ever since the death of Cazador, you've been living in luxury. Despite rejecting ascension, Astarion didn't mind getting his hands all over the stockpile of gold and jewels the Szarrs had at their estate. After all, you'd say he deserves it. It's almost like being nobility, adorned in gorgeous clothing amongst the common people, and yet you fit in quite well. This rich adornment came with tight-fitting gowns, gorgeous lace pieces, corsets of the highest quality. Those also didn't go unnoticed, but this night in particular some people crossed the line.
You and Astarion brought your own bottle of wine to start the evening, something to get you loose enough to put up with whatever was on tap. Occasionally you'd befriend some strangers, just for the evening. Astarion had a bad habit of making jokes about his vampirism, so you often avoided speaking to the same people again in case they'd look past his sarcasm.
This night in particular you'd come across quite the fun group, and you'd kindly shared some of your wine with them, which was a most rare occurrence. Soon enough you ran out, and Astarion offered to grab something else for the table.
"I'll be right back darling."
He has a habit of disappearing in most circles, but he's always nearby when it comes to you, especially in a place like this. Of course he's protective of you, all you truly have is each other. He'll walk to the bar and purchase a new bottle, keeping eyes, or at least ears on you the entire time he's away. Perks of loving an elf, as his heightened senses have come in handy multiple times.
"Well, that man of yours certainly is something."
A human man comments from across the table, taking a sip of your fancy wine.
"I know."
You smirk, taking a sip of your drink.
"I can't imagine he's all that in the bedroom though."
You almost spit out your wine, surprised by the audacity of this complete stranger.
"I'm sorry, but who are you?"
"Just someone who thinks you could do better."
"And what makes you say that?"
"Well, I could bed you for a change."
You almost want to throw up at how bold this man is being. Instead of dragging the conversation on any further, you grab your drink and go to stand up, trying to eye Astarion from across the room. The tavern was awfully busy, far more than usual. After realizing he was nowhere in sight, you move to make your way to the bar. Suddenly, there's a hand in your hair, yanking you back.
"Well that's no way to treat a nice young man, now is it?"
This human snarls in your ear. No one seems to notice the situation, as the crowd is bustling. It's not often you get scared of random tavern goers, but this man is far more handsy than others.
"Unhand me."
You go to grab for the knife hidden under the slit of your dress, realizing you forgot to grab it on the way out. Of course, tonight of all nights. Realizing you were trying to grab for a weapon, the human twists your wrist behind your back, making you yelp in pain.
Astarion had a hard time hearing that night because of all the overlapping conversation, but that sound was all he needed for his ears to perk up and for him to abandon his drink mission. He has a keen sense for knowing when you're in danger.
"Adorable, you think you're that strong huh?"
He goes to feel where you reached for your knife, lingering on your leg a little too long. Then, he freezes.
"Excuse me sir, could you show me where your pulse is in your neck? Make sure your blood's still pumping?"
Astarion has his dagger in hand behind your attacker. The human starts shaking, and slowly creeps his hand off of your leg and onto his neck.
"Very good. Now, if you'd like to keep that precious sustenance pumping through your veins and don't want me to pop your jaw out of it's socket, you'll unhand my wife."
He points the tip of his dagger right where the neck meets the jawline, almost drawing blood. Soon after the human unhands your hair, and scrambles away, not before Astarion leaves the tiniest knick in his neck: a reminder. You turn around and embrace the vampire, finally catching your breath. He lets you stay wrapped around his side as he guides you out of the tavern.
"Are you alright my love? Did he hurt you?"
"Just my scalp a little. I forgot my knife before we left, stupid mistake."
He lifts your chin up to make eye contact with him.
"You shouldn't have to be armed so some man won't harass you. Would I prefer you to have a weapon on you? Of course, but if you ever can't protect yourself, I will."
You start to tear up a little. It's been a while since you've been that scared, and no one seemed to notice. What would've happened if Astarion was too late?
"Look at me."
He wakes you from your thoughts.
"Let's go home. Perhaps this isn't the right place for us."
You wrap your arm around his, holding onto his sleeve. Darkvision is nice at times like this, since he can see much further than you. The walk home is quiet, and he doesn't mind. However, he is constantly eyeing nearby alleyways in case that man decides to get smart with him. When you get home you ball up on the sofa, and he makes sure the door is double-locked, something he doesn't often do considering he made the locks himself. He makes his way to the sofa, the plush velvet making a nice contrast to rickety wooden chairs of the tavern.
"Come here darling."
He pulls you back to lay on him, and he unclasps your necklace, placing it gently on the nearby table.
"Astarion?"
You look up at him.
"Yes my love?"
Tears prick at your eyes again. You have a hard time getting the words out, as if it's an embarrassing question.
"Will... will you always keep me safe?"
Your voice wavers. He starts massaging your shoulders.
"Of course my sweet Tav, I'll keep you safe as long as you live."
His voice lowered, a certain serious tone taking hold. Part of him felt guilty things even went as far as they did tonight, but he promised himself he'd never let it happen again.
"I love you."
He smiles. It's not often you just say 'I love you' to one another, it's usually said in many different ways, in actions, in pet names. You save it for serious moments, when it feels important to remind each other of your love, how it binds you.
"I love you too darling."
Nothing else is said. Soon enough you fall asleep as he rubs your back, peaceful and safe.
2K notes · View notes
vivalabunbun · 9 months
Text
As You Are, I Am Too
Summary: If we compare people to magnets, opposites attract and sames repel, so why are two stoic faces paired as soulmates?
Word Count: 15.4k (why are you surprised at this point, get some snacks)
Tags: Alhaitham x Fem! Reader, Smut(r18+), NFSW, MDNI, Modern AU, Soulmate AU, Mutual Pinning, Fluff, Slow Burn, Slow fic, Perfectionist! Reader, angst, arranged pairing, TW: Toxic family, unhappy childhood trauma, child of strained marriage trauma, TW: Themes of self-loathing, themes of infidelity(misunderstanding), toxic work environment, slight workplace harassment, pushy boss, slightly yandere! Alhaitham?, Soft! Alhaitham, second chance romance?, slightly bratty! reader, Dom! Alhaitham, Degradation, Heavy adult themes, attempts at comedy
Author Note: This is experimental, I want to explore if two same sides of a magnet can still attract. I want to explore the fumbles and mistakes of love.
Side Note: Here is a continuation
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Do you believe in soulmates?
It’s nothing to be ashamed of if you do. Because who doesn’t want to believe in it? The concept of an ‘other half’, a missing piece that completes you. Someone who loves you and only you unconditionally.
Who doesn’t want to experience that? 
To be loved, to be accepted, and to feel whole are all natural human desires. So it’s no surprise society, regardless of the century, culture, or demographic all obsessed over finding that other half.
To find a hand that fits perfectly within the gaps of one’s own. 
The greatest minds in all of Tevyat came together, analyzing each pattern, quantifying each data point, and testing each hypothesis until their magnum opus was created: The Akasha System.
Taking the work out of fate’s hands and into a large database. 
What criteria did this wonderful system use to piece together two halves of a whole? Who knows, it’s a black box. However, the machine was quite smart, quite quick, and quite accurate.
So much so, there was no reason not to use it. 
Humans, no matter how much some might deny it, despise being lonely. They fear it so much they’d rather hold a hand which strangles theirs with an equally crushing grip.
That’s why people rush toward their soulmates the moment the Akasha finds them, they fear being alone. 
But do you believe in soulmates?
“No.” Alhaitham puts down his drink.
“But you still used the Akasha??” Kaveh juts a finger in the direction of an ashen-haired man.
“And?” Disinterested eyes glance at the time displayed on a clock in the rowdy bar.
“And?! What do you mean and? You just said you don’t believe in soulmates!” The slam of Kaveh’s palms on the table made a bit of beer lap over the edge of his cup.
“I don’t believe in soulmates, but I’m not ignorant to the benefits of marriage.” 
“Huh?” 
“It’s convenient.” The blunt statement rolling off Alhaitham’s tongue as he motions for the tab.
“Ugh, you know what, forget it.” Kaveh chases his heavy sigh with a hearty swig of his cup.
“Well then, I’ll call it a night.” He’s stayed out long enough.
Placing a handful of mora on the table to cover his tab, Alhaitham bids goodnight to his two workplace acquaintances and former college roommate.
He swiftly strides towards the creaky tavern door, swinging it open as he steps into the warm Summer evening. Tomorrow is another workday, better to get an adequate amount of rest.
“Still the same even after a full year with her, huh,” Kaveh sighs dryly.
“Did you really think he’d change after marriage, Kaveh?” Cyno finally chipped in from the sidelines. 
“I should’ve known, someone as egotistical as Alhaitham practically married himself.” 
“Now, now, his wife is nowhere as egotistical as him,” Tighnari says over the rim of his glass. 
Cyno and Kaveh paused for a moment, sharing a glance as they considered Tighnari’s observation. With a shrug, they concluded: you weren’t nearly as egotistical as Alhaitham.
Still, the great mystery remains. 
��How is he the first to marry?” The blond bachelor slumps further on the tavern stool. 
“Life is full of wonders.” The ebony-haired bachelor gave a few comforting pats.
———————————————————————————
Unlocking the solid oak front door, Alhaitham steps into the serenity of a quiet house. Good, his ears were slightly buzzing from the boisterous conversation in a crowded bar.
Taking a few more steps into the entranceway, the man shuts the door behind his body.
The dull gossip over a few rounds of drinks made their influence known to him, he just wants to go to bed. Thus he takes a few more steps toward his bedroom.
“Place your shoes into the closet, I just mopped the floors.” A level voice called out from the living room. 
Alhaitham’s movement halts, quickly glancing down at the Oxford shoes still on his feet, taking note of the spotless floorboards.
Wordlessly, Alhaitham unties the laces allowing him to kick them off with ease, placing them onto the shoe rack just behind a closet door. 
It’s a habit that slips his mind every now and then despite a year of marriage; Surprisingly unsurprising when you take into consideration his busy mind.
However, times were different now, he’s no longer a kid, free to be lost in thought. He’s now a homeowner of a spacious house, a space he shares with you, and you liked things clean. 
Not a speck of dust lingered on surfaces, no plates left in the sink, and books pristinely placed on organized shelves. Qualifications that he deemed exceptional for a life partner.
Now with slipper-clad steps, Alhaitham makes his way through the house, peering into the living room to spot your curled figure reading on a sofa. The warm glow of a floor lamp illuminated the soft curves of your cheek. 
“Is something the matter?” You didn’t look up from the page as you addressed him. 
“No, just heading to bed.” 
“Okay, goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
The start and finish of tonight’s conversation, after all, you valued a quiet house as much as he did. His colleague’s words weren’t without merit, even Alhaitham isn’t stubborn enough to deny the obvious.
Hobbies identical to each other, books upon books lined up along numerous shelves, preferring to stay within the walls of this house unless dragged out by friends. 
Your indecipherable gaze and stiff lips rival his own stone face. Perhaps that’s why the Akasha paired the two of you together. Two beings with stoic faces only another stoic would bear for a life partner, like two sides of the same coin. 
Alhaitham stops unbuttoning his shirt behind his shut bedroom door, reanalyzing the previous statement. Actually, that isn’t a very good analogy.
It'd be more accurate to compare you and him to a double-sided mirror that reflected only one view. 
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“I don’t believe in soulmates.”
The man sitting across from the cafe table, introduced as Alhaitham, bluntly states, interrupting your sip of coffee, warm beverage just barely touching your lips. 
Placing your cup back down on the coffee shop table, your gaze observed the stranger who just met you moments ago - a  meeting in a small cafe arranged by Sumeru’s Ministry of Human Relations, the government body tasked with delivering the Akasha’s verdict. 
After a few breaths, you decided to humor his abrupt statement with a response. Staring straight into his teal-orange eyes, you say,  “What a coincidence, neither do I.”
————————
So then why did two nonbelievers follow the verdict handed to them? It’s simple really.
Two salaries combined can buy a sizable house. Two pairs of hands get chores done faster. Two signatures on a certificate save tax money. Life is simpler with a partner to bear some of the burden. 
Young professionals and fresh graduates aren’t known for their financial independence; a boy eager to move out of a cheap flat and away from an infuriating roommate, a girl trying to escape a noisy environment.
The circumstances had aligned. 
And that’s how it’s been for two years now, a nice quiet house. Although, you’d be lying if you weren’t thankful that the Akasha paired you with someone as handsome as Alhaitham. Silver hair, broad frame, and beryl eyes with a hint of ochre -  maybe he’s an apology gift from some fickle god.
He’s a well-rounded and capable man; perceptive enough to know not to cross boundaries drawn in the air, apt enough to not disrupt the serenity, and able to take care of himself.
Although, he could learn to launder better. 
Your lips tug down as your eyes scan over the deep wrinkles crimping the fabric of a freshly washed button-down. It looks too rumpled to look professional, even on him. A sigh falls from your lips.
The presence of slow steps make your head turn in their direction, connecting with Alhaitham’s neutral eyes, quirked gray eyebrow questioning your purpose. 
Two bodies, two rooms, and two beds.
The only time you or he crossed into the private haven of one another was when the floors needed to be mopped or shelves dusted. Owning a house means owning up to tedious chores and dividing up responsibilities spares one’s sanity from the tediousness. 
It’s best to point out the critiques now to spare your own clothes from the same fate. Picking it off the back of his chair, you show him the shameful state of the garment. 
“Leaving your clothes in the dryer for too long will create stubborn wrinkles.” You advise. 
Teal eyes glance at the shirt in your hands before they flick towards the closet rack, your own gaze follows, noting the numerous other shirts in a similar state. Another heavy sigh escapes you, it's obvious Alhaitham attempted to do laundry yesterday.
Wordlessly, you begin gathering each wrinkled garment. 
“I’ll rewash them and hang them outside, it’s the best way to smooth them out. Heat isn’t recommended for your fabrics.” You swiftly walk past him with your arms full. 
“Thank you, I’ll clean the floors then.” He takes hold of the mop against the wall.
This seamless switching of responsibilities is done with less than two sentences, the efficiency of which is only possible between two people such as yourselves. 
Button-downs are much more fickle than a casual t-shirt, using the wrong detergent or leaving it unattended for too long will cause unsightly wrinkles.
Alhaitham’s laundering skills have improved in the last two years… perhaps the singing of the dryer still slips past his preoccupied mind. 
The two of you are working professionals. Crucial insight you’ve learned from your parents: A nicely ironed shirt, neatly brushed hair, and elegantly tied ties are all it takes to make others believe in the white lie of a put-together life. 
Alhaitham was raised by his grandmother, a detail you recall from a passing conversation some time ago. It shows.
The amateur attempts at chores, the books strewn about a desk absent-mindedly, and the afternoon naps spent on a couch underneath a sunlit window are secrets only seen behind closed doors - all telltale signs of being well-loved.
‘How nice it must be.’ You thought, clipping his freshly washed button-downs to the clothesline, allowing the Sunday morning rays to shine down upon them.
A stone-faced man was once a beloved grandson. Maybe his juvenile attempts at chores were too endearing for an elderly lady to correct. 
Hidden from everyone but the audience of swaying fabric and a curious star, a bittersweet smile tugs at stiff lips. 
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The clinking of forks against porcelain plates accompanies the evening news. Your eyes starring indifferently towards the TV just around the corner from the dinner table; looks like tonight's topic was the annual metrics of the Akasha.
With each passing year, these metrics only climb higher and higher, a machine learning to calculate better and better. 
“What’s your theory behind the Akasha?” you blurt out the question without looking away from the screen. 
A pair of utensils halted their movements as Alhaitham glances at the evening news. He takes a moment to wipe the corners of his mouth before humoring you.
Technically, the two of you have yet to fill your daily conversation quota. Might as well do it over dinner. 
“It’s all mathematics, the Akasha system. Pairing individuals based on collected data. Demographic, interests, and dispositions, are all factors in a pairing,” he explains in his baritone voice. 
“Mmm, then again it's all just a black box, we can’t be certain unless they choose to reveal it.” You ponder aloud. 
“Correct. Those factors are all key when it comes to compatibility. The Akasha simply uses probability. However, there’s the element of human variability.”
“Meaning it can’t always be right.” You know this, live it even.  “Is that why you don’t believe in the concept of soulmates?” Pivoting to an adjacent question, you return your attention back to the man across the table. 
“Yes, it’s an unrealistic belief.” Alhaitham sips on his wine.
“Such a brilliant conclusion, what an astute mind you have.” Honeyed-voice mimicking awe over a glass of water.
Narrowed teal eyes honed in as his glass returned to its place on the lacquered surface, unamused by your quip. 
“How about you? What theory brought you to hold the same brilliant conclusion?” 
“Do you know phenylethylamine? PEA?” Glancing up from your glass.
From his idle gaze and unmoving lips, you take his silence as a “no”. 
“It’s a stimulant that causes your heart to beat abnormally, released when you’re around a special someone. It causes what people describe as the ‘rush’ or ‘fever’ of love.” 
He says nothing, waiting for you to continue.
“But then your brain gets used to it, and the abnormality in your chest corrects itself.” You take a sip before continuing, “Nothing last forever, so why do people think love is an exception? That only one person ever will cause their hearts to flutter till the end of time?” 
A dry giggle follows the clink of your water cup against the wood. 
“How insightful.” Alhaitham takes another sip of wine to chase his sarcasm.
Maybe it was the amusing quip or how tonight’s butter chicken turned out to be exceptionally delicious, but a subtle smile curls at the edges of your lips. With today’s conversational quota fulfilled you focus your full attention back to the awaiting dinner. 
You remain ignorant to the gaze of teal eyes, oblivious to how it fixates on the faint smile complimenting the soft curves of your cheeks and plush lips. 
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“...” 
The front door shuts and locks behind you, your shoes are halfway into the closet before a familiar scent beckons you towards the living room.
Quickly getting into your slippers, you trek through the entranceway and round the corner. The vivid hues of pale blues and gentle violets with pops of bright yellow catch your eyes, confirming your speculations: it’s a bouquet. 
The bundle of flowers were placed into a long-forgotten vase. Turning away from the blooms, you face the man currently thumbing through a book on the couch -the only other person with access to this quiet haven.
Turning back to observe the blooms, you note each species of flower. The Sumerian Rose, Kalpalata Lotus, and…Padisarah.
You observe how the pollen of the Padisarahs dusts the radius of the surface around the vase. It’s a fickle flower after all.
A fickle and potent-smelling flower. 
A scowl twists your face despite your best efforts, the sickly-sweet fragrance of the capricious blooms assaults your senses. 
“Please open a window.” your hand comes up to shield your nose. 
“Is something the matter?” 
“The smell is giving me a headache.” 
A headache forms from within the deepest depths of your mind, the same visceral reaction to the heavy perfumes that plagued your childhood walls. Your mother believed the saccharine scent could cover up her infidelity if she sprayed enough.
Compared to that artificial perfume, fresh Padisarahs were much tamer, but still enough to make a bitter taste appear at the back of your tongue. 
“I see.” Alhaitham sets his book down, getting up to allow the Autumn breeze in. 
Swiftly, you trudge away from the vase and its potent blooms and down the hall, eager to find an untainted corner of the house. It’d be best to sleep the headache off. 
In the morning when you round the corner back into the living room, you notice the vacant vase and table wiped clean of any speck of yellow pollen. Passing through into the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafts in the air.
As you pour yourself a cup, you take note of how the trash has already been taken out, a fresh trash bag lining the bin. 
Good, flowers were a hassle to keep around the house.
———————————————————————————
“Chocolates?” You study the box of sweets left out on the kitchen table. 
“I picked them up while getting ingredients for dinner,” Alhaitham answers, busy chopping carrots. 
“You can have some.” 
You return your gaze  back to the intricately designed package in seasonal Winter colors. It’s not often that you indulge in such elegant treats, you couldn’t refuse such an offer. 
Delicately picking up a piece, the glossy dark chocolate shine looks inviting, you can see the quality in these sweets. Placing the small chunk onto your tongue, savoring the rich flavor. Not too sweet and not too bitter. 
Using your tongue to maneuver it towards your teeth you bite into its center, only for your tastebuds to be assaulted by a foul flavor. The distinct and sharp tang of alcohol and the revolting aftertaste of bourbon spoils the sweetness. 
Refusing to allow the detestable flavor to remain on your tongue, you briskly swipe up a few napkins, spitting the foul sweet out. You frown at the stubborn tang of bourbon which threatens to ruin your appetite for dinner. 
“You can have the rest.” You throw out the crumpled napkin. 
“Are they of poor quality?” The tapping of the knife paused. 
“They’re just not to my taste.” 
“In that case, I hope tonight's dinner is.” Alhaitham resumes his task. 
Taking a glass out from the cupboard, you fill the cup with fresh water before gulping it down, washing the foul tang of alcohol from your tongue, and even fouler memories of the stench of sour wine and crushed cans.
Wiping the escaped droplets off with the back of your hand, you go for a second glass. Hopefully, you can cleanse your palate. 
———————————————————————————
“Do you have plans tonight?” Alhaitham’s words make you stop in the middle of the hallway. 
You have a book ready in hand for a night of reading on the sofa under the soft glow of the floor lamp. You know his eyes can see that,  gaze questioning his intentions. 
“I was given two tickets to a movie, would you like to accompany me?” He holds out the slips of paper. 
As your eyes pass over the printed font, you recognized the title, a name picked up within the chatter of coworkers at the office. It’s An adaptation of a famous light novel from Inazuma, and the reviews seem positive. 
“Sure.”
You could get out of the house a little more. 
It seems like everyone wants to see a movie tonight, the theater lobby is filled with bustling crowds, families with excited kids, and couples holding hands.
And then there’s you and Alhaitham. Standing side by side, his hands carrying two carbonated drinks, your hands holding an overpriced bag of popcorn, walking toward the room printed on the tickets. 
“C5…C6, looks like we got good spots.” You settled into the plush seats, careful not to spill the bag. 
Alhaitham hums in response, placing your drink in the cupholder. More and more people filed into the screening room, waves of ‘excuse me’s and ‘sorry’s rolling through the space until all the seats were finally filled. The lights begin to dim as the opening logo booms through the sound system. 
The cinematography was beautiful, the musical scores accompanying the plot pleasing to the ears, and the popcorn perfectly seasoned.
It’s been a while since you’ve last gone to a movie theater, maybe you should go more often. As you brought a few more pieces of popcorn to your lips, your eyes travel toward Alhaitham.
His arms crossed as the light of the silver screen reflects onto his skin, noticing your stare, his teal gaze connects with yours. 
Moving the striped bag closer to his frame, you offer him some popcorn, he paid for the refreshments. It'd be a shame if he didn’t get to enjoy them too.
His large hand reachs over and takes a handful, your curiosity wanting to see his reaction to the snack. However, a piercing shrill snaps your attention away. 
Just a few rows away, a woman stood up from her seat, throwing a bag of popcorn at the man sitting beside her. Screaming words you couldn’t quite make out as they merges with the onscreen dialogue and equally furious shouts of the now popcorn-covered man.
Their thunderous voices were only amplified by the acoustics of the theater. 
They’re both standing now, still hurling insults and grievances one after another. There’s a ringing in your ears, their faceless silhouettes in the dim theater replaying a scene you’ve seen many times before. It’s as if they’ve finally developed a conscious, now aware of the stares and glares thrown their way.
Oh, look they’re leaving now, still fighting the whole way out of the screening room. 
With the disturbance now cleared, a low wave of murmuring swept through the audience before dying out. The dialogue and soundtrack were audible again, the atmosphere reverting to how it was.
You didn’t feel like snacking on the popcorn anymore. Gaze focus on the fluffy puffs for the rest of the movie. 
“Did you enjoy the film?” An indifferent voice resounds from your right side. 
Walking out as the credit rolled in the background, following the flow of traffic toward the exit. You were walking by Alhaitham’s side, but your mind was elsewhere, a subtle frown etched on your lips. 
“It was fine, just crowded and loud.” Your voice was just as flat. 
“Oh.”
Tossing the unfinished bag of popcorn way into the nearest trash can, the two of you continue on the silent journey home.
Perhaps, it’s best if you just stayed curled up with a book. 
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“Eh? It’s been three years and you’ve never gotten your wife flowers? I knew you were cold-hearted, but not to this extent. Here, a quick bouquet of some fresh flowers I picked.” 
“You should gift her some sweets, maybe then you two can talk a choco-lot… Did you get the joke?”
“Are you serious?! Almost four years and you never took her on a date?? You’re hopeless! Take these tickets and take her to the movies. By the way, you’ll have to pay for them.”
Alhaitham wasn’t sure what made his colleagues so invested in his marriage, maybe a projection of their own lack of one. To his colleagues, you were just as much of an enigma as the ashen-haired man.
Any passing comment, no matter how vague or curt, would bring forth an onslaught of unsolicited advice. And it was for that very reason within the walls of your home these details shall stay. 
Alhaitham isn’t sure which was more irksome, the uninformed guidance of bachelors, or the fact he was the one who actually tested each suggestion. Regardless, at least these trials were fruitful in the sense he can gauge your dislikes now. 
You despise flowers for their fickle messes and scent. You’re revolted by overpriced chocolates. You detested rowdy theaters and subpar films. 
Four now going on to five years, and these were his results. Frankly, he didn’t have to subject you to such experiments for these results, because they aligned with his own preferences.
A waste of time, disturbing your peace for the sake of his own curiosity. 
A heavy sigh falls from his lips as he sets the bucket of water down, one hand holding a mop as the other turns the knob of your bedroom.
It’s a Sunday, meaning the floors needed to be mopped. Your door's hinges sing as they swing open only to be abruptly silenced as Alhaitham stood motionless under the door frame. 
Oh. He should’ve knocked.
You were in the midst of getting dressed in front of your floor-length mirror, glimpses of smooth skin peeking out from under baggy fabric. Before he could stop, teal eyes followed the dark fabric reaching just down to the middle of your thighs and draping low on one shoulder. Your fingers were in the middle of buttoning the clearly oversized shirt as you turned back to focus on him. 
Blank gaze traveling up your soft lips set in a neutral position and meeting your deadpan stare, Alhaitham’s conscience restarts.
Today was Sunday, which meant it was laundry day yesterday, and it was the ashen-haired man’s turn to wash and dry the clothes. Somehow, his button-down got mixed in with your blouses, leading to your unamused reaction. 
“I’ll be more mindful next time, did my shirt dull any of your whites?” Forcing his eyes to avert, a late attempt at respecting your privacy. 
“It’s fine, fortunately, the dye didn’t bleed out during the wash.” You turned away as your hand pulls the draping fabric up your shoulder. 
“Just place the shirt over the chair in my room, I’ll take care of it later.”
“Okay.” 
Once more your door sings as he shuts it on the way back into the hall, deciding to clean the floors of his room first and allowing you to change into your rightful clothes. It was early noon and a weekend, meaning there was no reason for Alhaitham to brush out his sleep-tousled hair. Hopefully, messy gray locks were enough to conceal burning ears. 
———————————————————————————
“The Evolution of Everything.” His eyes scan over the title held out in front of him. 
A newly published scientific journal filled with freshly collected data, the book's spine still in mint condition. Alhaitham takes note of the identical copy held in your hand. 
“You seemed interested in this genre, so I picked up a copy for you.” You motion for him to take it. 
There wasn’t a rule etched in stone that forbade the sharing of books within these quiet walls. The books on your shelves have been more interesting than his as of late. A pattern of folded corners inflecting more and more pages of the books lining your bookshelves, evidence of a certain man’s meddling.
 The warning glare every time you smoothed out a creased page directed his way didn’t seem to be enough to stop the unconscious habit of his hands.
It looks like you’re trying out a new solution, getting him his own copy to prevent the infection from engulfing each and every corner of your bookshelves. 
“Thank you, I’ll read it soon.” He accepts the peace offering. 
With that, you made your way back to the sofa. Flipping open your own copy, fingers gently making sure to not crumple the delicate pages or crease the pristine spine. Alhaitham compares it to the book currently held in his own hands.
An older book, while not falling apart or tattered, it’s obvious the man has thumbed through its pages. A well-loved book as his grandmother would’ve described it. 
Alhaitham needs to stop this practice he never corrected in childhood. 
———————————————————————————
“Alhaitham.” You greet him at the entranceway. 
Said man is currently placing his outside shoes away into the closet, returning from an uneventful day at his office. You usually got home before him, but this was the first time you’ve waited for him at the front door. He notes that you seem to be holding something behind your back. 
“Here.” Bring your arms out from your back, the distinct crinkling of plastic was heard.
Teal eyes study the gift basket filled with bath products, body wash, shampoo, conditioner, and lotion all nicely packaged with a satin ribbon. 
“It’s to thank you for helping me with errands lately,” you explain. 
Recently, you’ve been asking him to accompany you to the cluttered streets lined with stalls and haggling merchants. With his towering frame and larger hands, he could carry heavier bags and part a path through the pushy crowds easier. You were using your resources to maximize efficiency. 
“There’s no need to trouble yourself with this, I’m just doing my part. But thank you.” He takes the basket from your hands, eyes remaining collected. 
Just as the basket leaves your hands, the distinct chime of your phone goes off as ‘Bahram’ flashes across the screen. The name of your boss. 
“Excuse me, I have to take this call. Dinner will be ready in half an hour.” Turning away, you walk toward the kitchen. 
The he hums in response, slipping into his inside shoes. With brisk steps, he covers the distance from the front door to his room, closing then leaning against the solid oak.
Sharply inhaling as one hand balancing the basket of toiletries and the other holding his head. 
You’ve always prefer to maintain the serenity of the house. Resolving strife with proactive actions or brief comments. Not once in these past five years did you ever nag him, you’re too pragmatic for that. At times it’s a curse more than a blessing, evidenced by the gift basket staring back at him mockingly. 
Although Alhaitham was messy at times, he knows the importance of hygiene. Teeth brushed twice a day, a shower taken every day before dinner, and deodorant applied daily.
However, the temperatures this Summer were at record highs, even for Sumeru. The packed market streets pushing the two of you closer than usual, perhaps he’s no match for the heat this time. 
Washing his hair twice and his body thrice, Alhaitham finishes his prolonged shower by gurgling some mouthwash for good measure. Walking into the kitchen in a fresh set of clothes and his hair still damp. The table set with potato boat and some steak. Impassive eyes met inscrutable eyes as you motion for him to take a seat.
Your nose remained relaxed, meaning you were probably satisfied with his efforts. 
Alhaitham makes a silent reminder to research some cologne after he finishes washing the dishes. One that isn’t overbearing nor too weak to linger. 
How embarrassing it is, five years in and the stoic prodigy known as Alhaitham is still testing the bounds of his wife’s patience. Selfish experiments and habits he can’t seem to correct conflicting with your wishes for a clean, serene, and quiet home. 
The entire reason why you bothered signing your name next to a stone-faced man who said ‘I don’t believe in soulmates’ before asking ‘How are you?’.
  
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Flowers, chocolates, and movie tickets.
You weren’t oblivious to the sentiment behind these arbitrary actions. In a way, it was expected. A husband wants to get closer to his wife, it’s simple chemistry.
The human mind craves connection, oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin released at the sight of gifted blooms, crafted sweets, and from simply sitting within each other's presence.
A chemical cocktail the mind gets drunk on. 
Alhaitham isn’t immune to it and neither are you. Even if you were able to stiffen your lips, steady your gaze, and hide those flushed cheeks. Nothing you did could quell the abnormality in your chest, was Alhaitham having the same issue?
There comes the first hurdle, the unknown which hung in the air formed over years of peaceful silence. The thought of two stoic faces peering into each other’s eyes as two monotonous voices stated the obvious would make any romantic keel over and die.
It’d be too embarrassing, especially when it’s already been awkward. 
Headache caused by sickly sweet blossoms, spitting out pricey sweets, and dulled reaction to a critically acclaimed film. None of this was Alhaitham’s fault, how can you blame someone for something they don’t know?
He never asked, you never told.
No one knew what happened within that noisy house with empty bottle-covered floors of two ‘soulmates’ who refused to release their crushing grips. All except the three unfortunate souls trapped within its Padisarah-scented walls. 
Still, his keen eyes didn’t miss those details, reassessing his actions before ultimately channeling more of his energy into chores around the house instead of frivolous gifts. What a proactive husband. 
A sting of guilt felt as you recall his sincere attempts at trying to cross an icy bridge. What should you say? ‘Thank you, you tried.’ Sounded far too condescending, it could even lead to a huffy fight. Something you’ve been good at avoiding these past five years. 
Marriage is filled with compromises, meeting each other halfway along the road of life, side by side. So you tried this time.
Curiosity guiding you as it did a naive hero towards the brilliance of a red star. 
———————————————————————————
Your first attempt was inspired by an article that popped up on your phone’s feed, something about wearing your partner’s shirt to make them flush, nonsense known as the ‘boyfriend shirt’.
You still gave it a try. Swiping up one of your husband’s black button-downs one Saturday night, only building up the confidence to put it on the next morning. 
Your original plan was to just casually wear it around the house as you got the Sunday morning chores done, but that got thrown out when Alhaitham suddenly opened your door when one-third of the buttons were still undone.
A moment of tense silence followed, impressively you managed to maintain a cool facade. Grasping the opportunity to leave this stale silence with an expertly crafted response. 
———————————————————————————
In the end, he just wanted his shirt back. So for your next attempt, you toned it down, no longer taking advice from nonsensical articles. 
Recently, Alhaitham has taken more of an interest in your bookshelf. More of the once pristine edges of your books folder here and there. If it was anyone else, you’d make them buy you a new copy immediately, but for now, you simply smoothed out the paper.
If he wants to read the theories and studies that muse you, why don’t you read them together?
However, two bodies pressed together on a sofa trying to read the small print along pages at the same time is simply uncomfortable. Plus, Alhaitham reads much faster than you. 
To ensure a pleasant reading experience for both of you, two copies were the best solution. 
He read it after you. 
———————————————————————————
Your next attempts used thinly veiled excuses to get Alhaitham to accompany you to the bustling markets of Sumeru City. In a way, trying to make up for that lackluster movie experience.
Only for it to soon turn into using Alhaitham to carry arm fulls of bags as he shielded you from the push and pull of the busy crowd. 
Perhaps you should stick to gift-giving, to spare your husband from working like a Sumpter Beast in this weather.
But besides books, what should you give him? He’s just like you, if he sees something he wants, he’d just buy it with his own money. 
On the way home from work, you caught sight of a shop, one which displayed handmade soaps and fancy lotions. Huh, Alhaitham often takes your lotions, maybe you should get him his own. A bell ringing overhead announces your entrance into the cozy store. 
“Welcome!” A bright voice chirped as a shop assistant with vibrant red hair and an equally vibrant smile bounded toward you. 
“I’m Nilou, how may I help you today?”
“I’m just looking for some lotion.” You politely responded, trying to ignore the faint fragrance of Pardisarahs. 
“We’ve got plenty of hand-made ones, for you or for someone else?”
“For my husband.”
“Oh? What does he like?”
You paused for a moment, lips pressed together in contemplation before deciding. 
“Something fresh and not overbearing, nothing made from Pardisarahs.” If he liked using your lotions, then he must have the same scent preferences. 
“We just got this new lotion that fits the criteria! Oh! But it pairs very well with this body wash… actually this shampoo and conditioner set is also a good fit. Oh! What if we bundle them?”
What was supposed to be a simple lotion turned into you leaving the small shop with an entire gift basket. A sigh leaves your lips, looks like you’re not as immune to sales tactics as you originally thought. 
That night you handed the ribbon-wrapped basket to Alhaitham. Even if he isn’t interested in expensive handcrafted soaps, he’ll still use them out of necessity, they were a gift after all.
However, it doesn’t seem you had to worry about that. He used up the fancy soaps and lotions. 
The opulent scent lingering on his skin and towel-dried hair, looks like your gift made you discover a new side of your husband.
He enjoys really long showers, evidenced by your rising water bills. 
Still, the vast expanse of uncertainty didn’t shrink, not even one bit. Just like the distance between an outstretched hand toward the sun. 
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Books, lotions, and walks through a market, looks like it was all for naught. 
The mutual agreement to not lock eyes, these cold halls, these awkward dinners filled with nothing but the clattering of silverware and plates. Where have you seen these patterns before?
Oh, you’ve seen these in your childhood home. 
Ah, was this a curse passed on to you? What an awful wedding gift from uninvited parents to a courthouse office. 
Clutching the straps of your bag tighter, your legs quicken their pace, wanting to get out of the crowded streets filled with the mumbles and pushes of people freshly off the clock.
With each stranger knocking into your shoulder another drop is added to a bottle. White knuckles gripping on your straps as a pressure rises within the bottle’s glass body, threatening to shatter it.
You can’t let this continue, the mounting pressure will sooner or later detonate into a hideous mess. Best to avoid that scenarios. Eyes catching sight of a small reprieve from the crowd, you direct yourself there.
 The small store front provides you with some shelter for your lungs to breathe. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. The pressure subsides just a bit. There’s still room in there, you can suppress a little more, you can endure a little longer. 
Eyelids fluttering open, you recognized the name of the shop. It’s the fancy soap shop, one with the vivacious sales assistant.
Peering through the glass you searched for that brilliant shade of crimson. And you found it, right next to glimmering silver hair. It’s like your body forgot how to breathe. 
From the rumbling of the late evening rush, all you could do was read their lips from behind a thick glass door.
Petite pink lips giggling behind clasped hands as Nilou looks up at Alhaitham, tilting her head to the side as if she asked him a question. His lips remained stiff, but teal gaze reflected crimson as they softened. Something you never witnessed within the quiet walls of your home. 
Looks like you found the cause of the rising water bills, perhaps Alhaitham likes the smell of Padisarahs. 
Your bottle couldn’t contain the ocean anymore. 
It wasn’t an Earth-shattering catastrophic event, no tidal waves crashing down, no flood flood devastating everything in its path. Only a defeated ‘pop’ and its pathetic echo as your bottle finally overflowed.
Bitter sea-foam fizzled out as it made an unseen mess. 
Listlessly, you rejoined the rolling crowd, letting the eb and flow of its movement carry you all the way to the front door of a false haven. Systematically inserting the key, placing your shoes into the closet, and shutting your room door behind your back. Staring at the clean floor with its intricate wood grain. 
However, your mind weren’t processing any of it, busy with its calculations.
When did his fever start? That one Autumn night with a chaste bouquet. What day is it now? The cusp of Summer. How long has it been? In a few months, it’ll be three years.
A lecture from an inescapable past resurfaces.
————————
“Hey, kiddo.” 
Slurred words made you stop in your tracks, small hands tightening their grip on your backpack straps.
You weren’t quiet enough, the careful steps of your feet were rendered useless when it came to the creaky wooden floors of this house. Your lungs burned for air, but you didn’t want to breathe in the stench which permeated this air. 
The aroma of cheap perfume, sour wine, and cheap beer. The source of this foul smell? The freshly awakened man laying on the couch just a few inches away: a man known as your father.
Still trying to reserve your stored supply of oxygen, all you offered the drunkard was a firm hum. Not that he’d care, judging from the crushed cans and empty bottles littering the path, he’s probably too far gone. 
“Did you know love is a chemical? Something called ‘phenylethylamine’?” A hiccup interrupts his sentence, but he continues, much to your dismay. 
“Haha, it makes your heart beat faster and your cheeks flush because it’s considered an amphetamine, one of the most powerful drugs.” His stumbling hand blindly reached for another can, knocking over empty shells until it found one with just a bit of liquor. 
“Too bad the high can only last three years.”
Your disinterested gaze trailed off down the empty hall, legs itching to break away from the lecture you’ve heard numerous times before. Lungs begging to inhale the untainted air of your room, the only sanctuary this hollow home held.
Just a few minutes was all you needed, then you’ll start mopping these foul floors. 
A clink of aluminum hitting the wooden boards draws your attention back to your father who had finished moisturizing his throat with another swig of beer. 
“Stay away from that drug, kiddo” A sloppy grin stretched across his face as he stared up at a blank ceiling. 
The sight made your arms bristle, seeing a smile on your father’s face was uncanny. Something you’ve never seen at the dinner table, just silent scowls and disgruntled glares constantly exchanged over a subpar meal. 
Wanting him to finish this one-sided conversation, you gave another firm hum, every now and then glazing back toward the hall. 
“Or you’ll end up like this old man.” He wraps the conversation up with a bitter laugh, one which resonated off the blank walls. 
————————
Maybe you should’ve heeded your father’s words. A brilliant scholar to the public but a pathetic drunk when within the confines of a cluttered, noisy house is still a brilliant scholar. 
This was your punishment for straying away from your beliefs. You reached your hand out towards the fire despite knowing it’d  hurt, and you fell in love. Now look at where you are. 
How utterly laughable, you, the ever-bright Ms. Perfect, who’s broken love down to its base form of chemical compounds, fell victim to the addiction that was love.
So blindsided by it.
The fog of love is slowly running its course through him. Once the trees abandon their vibrant greens for shriveled browns in the Autumn, his fever will be over. There’s no such thing as an endless Summer.
How did you not see this coming? Covering your eyes with ignorant hands, blatantly ignoring the signs right in front of your nose.
No more flowers, no more chocolates, and no more movies. 
Turning back around, you took note of a figure in a floor length mirror. Indifferent gaze identical to how your husband looks at you.
Two sides of the same mirror, what’s what you and him are. What’s the use of that? Shiny surfaces point off in opposite directions, yet only ever reflecting one view. What’s the point of having two sides then?
You don’t intrigue him, you can’t show him his blind spots, and you can’t reflect to him a view he’s never seen. Same perceptions, same hobbies, same expressionless faces, how stale it must be. 
It’s much more interesting to have a wife who’ll smile at receiving flowers, a wife whose eyes light up at chocolate, and a wife who’d blabber on about a movie as Alhaitham listens intently. The beating of his heart is starting with someone new.
Emerging out of your thoughts, you stare directly at the person in your mirror.
Dull eyes stared right back, light dimmed from years of staring at a bright star grasping at its warm rays in substitution of a cold house, only for your fingers to slip pass right through.
Idiotic girl, you can’t touch the sun, not even Icarus did. 
An unlovable child grew into an unlovable adult. Add that to your footnote, so you’ll never forget this lesson again. The fool in the mirror finally looks away. 
It didn’t matter if Icarus smiled or laughed as he tumbled from the sky. Silly girl, did you forget what happens in the end of that tale? He drowned alone. 
Drowning isn’t like what the movies show. The thrashing of limbs against cold waves, the garbled screams under the water, all accompanied by the ominous soundtrack crafted by a sound master. It’s all dramatized for the silver screen. 
Muscles pushing through the cold exhaustion, mouth agape but prioritizing large and fast gulps of oxygen over cries for help, followed by the melodic lull of water lapping over eardrums until the head disappears under its surface. Never to breach it again. 
It’s possible for a person to drown in a pool full of people. Just like how it was possible for you to feel alone despite having your husband just across the lacquered expanse of the dinner table. Forks and knives clacking porcelain plates.
It’s a silent death. 
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For once you’re grateful to attend a nugatory dinner hosted by your company. Venue filled with superficial smiles and handshakes all over food served on sliver platters. Even if the heels are killing you, you’d rather not wallow in a quiet house.
A heavy sigh leaves your lips, catching someone’s attention. 
“What a heavy sigh, here have some wine to ease the burden.” A glass filled with fragrant wine was held out in front of you. 
Your eyes travel up the hand which offers the vile beverage to you, sights landing on the face of your boss, Bahram. Pushy as always, always testing the limits of your loyalty to a nice pension and dental insurance.
As always you politely push the glass away, uttering a firm “no thank you.”
“Oh c’mom Ms. Perfect, you look like you could use a drink.” He pushes the glass closer. 
 Stares from all around the formal dinner table hone in, the weight heavy on your shoulders. Stakeholders and coworkers turn away from their shallow conversations to watch the brewing spectacle just across the table.
That’s right, you have to be professional, where was your crafted mask? Make use of all those years observing the masters of deception you knew as your parents. 
So you accept the vile glass.
Before the aroma could register on your palate, you emptied the whole glass. Not a single drip escaped past your lips. It took all your strength to no scowl at the sweetly bitter and alcoholic flavor. 
“Oh? Ms. Perfect is drinking tonight?” Some nameless coworker mused. 
Ah, the name lightly tossed around at the office with oblivious chuckles and ignorant smiles. You despise being called that, but not as much as you despise being told ‘you’re just like your father’ and ‘you’re acting like your mother’.
Better to be Ms. Perfect, so disgruntled ‘soulmates’ can’t compare you to their flawed counterpart.
“Do you like this wine? Have some more.” Eagerly, your boss fills the glass once more. 
Staring at the beckoning liquid swirling in the glimmering cup, as the weight of those stares force your hands to accept it once more. 
Maybe you should’ve just stayed home. 
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“I should really be trying to sell you our products but… I think you’ll find a better gift at another store. Here, I’ll write the address down for you! They have the best jewels, I’m sure you’ll find something for your wife there!” Hastily the shop assistant scribbles on a notepad before pushing the slip into his palm. 
“Just don’t tell my manager.” Clasping her hands in front of her mouth, signaling to him to keep a secret. 
Alhaitham simply nods, examining the address in his hands. He hasn’t tried jewelry yet, but a ring would look nice on your hand. Maybe you’d think so too.
“You really love her, don’t you mister?” Nilou notes how attentively his hands smooth over the address. 
Pausing for a moment, Alhaitham envisions the softness of your cheeks shifting as that tender smile spreads across your lips. Yours eyes reflecting the light off the polished and cut gem as he slips it onto your bare finger. 
“I do.” Unable to stop the softening of his gaze. 
———————————————————————————
A ring still left in its miserable black box, stowed away in the depths of a drawer. A sigh slips out of him just like how he let another opportunity to place the jewel on your finger pass. You’re attending a company dinner tonight, a rare occasion requiring you to dress up.
The dress draped over your figure and curves just right and highlighted the contours of your body. He wanted to tell you this earlier as you were leaving, too bad he was occupied with swallowing ‘stay home’. 
There’s an annoying itch in the deepest depths of his mind. Covetous hands crawled up his spine, they tried to convince his own fingers to grasp around your wrist and pull you back into the house.
Alhaitham shakes that itch away, refocusing his attention onto your bookshelf in front of him.
You have a life and responsibilities outside these walls, he can’t overstep the boundary to block you from your individuality. Running a finger along the tops of the neatly lined books, searching for something to redirect his impulses.
Momentum halting when his finger sunk into pages when he expected the firm edge of a spine. The force crumpling the paper, immediately he pulls it into his hands, smoothing out the folded edges. Title catching his attention. 
The Lifespan of Love, the only book where the spine wasn’t facing out. Flipping it to the back, Alhaitham scans the blurb, noting the portrait of the scholar who authored it.
A familiar face, a professor who’s lectures he barely attended. A distinguished researcher and mentor in the eyes of his old university.
The sight of his face made Alhaitham recall a scene he once witnessed. 
————————
The halls of the Psychology department were desolate, as they always were. A much-appreciated reprieve from crowded foyers as a quiet student walks to his next exam in the department next door. 
Just as his hand reached up to activate his headphones, two voices caught his attention, the high shrills of a woman and the raspy shouts of a man leaking out from an office door left ajar.
It has nothing to do with him, Alhaitham know this, but he still had 30 minutes to kill before the exam.
Teal eyes peer through the gap between the oak doorframe.
A man the student recongizes, but the scowl and flush of rage twisted his face into an unrecongizable mess. The professor juts his finger towards the woman as foul names left his mouth, the same mouth which lectured the brightest minds of Sumeru. 
The woman screams back equally loathsome words, tears leaving mascara trails down her red cheeks. Suddenly, she grabs a lamp off his desk and hurls it to the floor. 
For a brief moment, the scholar pauses as his eyes scanned over the broken debris scattered along the floor. Then his fist slammed into the solid oak of his desk, thud so forceful the office ratted with the poor furniture.
His shouts resume, volume escalating by the minute. 
Alhaitham backs away from the door, turning on his noise-canceling headphones. He’s satisfied his curiosity enough, walking off to his exam. 
————————
A peculiar sight behind the superficial mask of a respected professor with his jolly grin and light hearted jokes with students. Inspecting the name printed just underneath the portrait, a furrow forms between his brow as he scrutinizes the spelling closer.
The professor’s last name was spelled the same way as yours. 
Oh. So this is the source you were citing back then. Numbers and figures published by a notable name backing your rebuttal to the societal notion of a soulmate. Inquisiveness rearing its impatient nose, inciting his hands to choose this book as his subject tonight.
You never told him, so he never asked. This was a chance to peer into a view sealed behind your closed lips.  
To study, dissect, and analyze the resources which congergated together to form the you of today. Alhaitham isn’t going to deny such an opportunity.
Teal eyes glance at the ticking hands of a clock, he’s got a good few hours of reading before you return.
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The distinct rumble of an engine leaking in through the living room window interrupts his peace, the slam of car doors causing Alhaitham to promptly fold over the corner of the page he has yet to finish.
The dinner must have ended.
Getting up from a cushy couch, Alhaitham makes his way toward the entranceway.
His keen ears picking up the unmistakable hearty chuckle of a man, Alhaitham stills for a brief second before continuing to the door. 
Before the chime of the doorbell had the chance to sound throughout the home, Alhaitham already pried open the front door.
Teal gaze darkening as they examine the display on the front steps. 
Your arm around the shoulder of another man while his arm was snaked around your waist, pressing your body against his as he supports you up the steps.
The sound of the hinges directs the man’s attention to the homeowner currently staring at him, oblivious to the way Alhaitham’s grip threatens to crush a metal handle behind solid oak. 
“Oh! You must be Ms. Perfect’s husband. I’m Bahram.” The man greeted.
Alhaitham already knows him. He’s seen that name flash up enough times across your phone. He’s seen you pick up no matter the hour and step out into an empty room.
A new habit of yours which started some months earlier.
“Haha! She drank a bit too much tonight.” The jovial man continues, his hand still resting on your hip.
Drank? You drank? You don’t so much as glance at Alhaitham’s wine cabinet at home, yet you drank with this man? The begins of scowl start to set into Alhaitham’s face. 
“I’ll bring her inside for ya.” Bahram takes a step forward only to be blocked by a towering frame topped with ashen hair. 
“I’ll take it from here.” Alhaitham barely bit back a pointed tone, forcibly smoothing it over to make his voice pass as neutral. 
Prying that hand off your hip and your arm from Bahram’s neck, Alhaitham’s strong hold supports your slumping figure against his own body.
Pulling you across the threshold of the front door, finally putting some distance between you and that damn boss of yours. 
“Have a goodnight.” Venomous lie rolling off Alhaitham’s tongue as he firmly shuts the oak door, not bothering with any more pleasantries. 
It didn’t take much effort to carry you into the living room. Setting you down on the sofa then kneeling down with dexterous fingers, Alhaitham freed your feet from the chokehold of those heels.
You make a mental note to throw them out tomorrow morning. 
“Thank you,” you breathed out, relieved to finally be home. 
Your husband doesn’t respond as he walk away to place your shoes into the closet. The lingering taste of wine churns your stomach, you needed some water to wash it out.
Carefully, you amble into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with fresh water. Praying it can finally rid you of that foul flavor. 
After three glasses of wine, your stakeholders and coworkers finally turned their attention elsewhere. You’ve entertained them enough.
Granting you the freedom to push away anymore glasses your boss offered, only getting him to stop after you agreed to his offer of driving you home.
What a troublesome night, your mood sourer than it has been for the past few months. 
As you fill up your glass again your ears catch the pattering of Alhaitham’s steps as he trails into the kitchen, stopping only a few paces away watching you glup down your second glass. 
“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?” His husky voice resounds from behind you as his finger taps against the marble countertop. 
“No.” You fill rinse out the cup, the stubborn grip of wine not releasing your tastebuds just yet. 
“Oh? It sure looks like you did.” 
Your body stiffens as your turn the faucet off, glancing over your shoulder with eyes narrowing. 
“What do you mean by that?” Your tone a bit more sharp than you’d like it to be. 
“I’m certain you know exactly what I mean.” Alhaitham stops his tapping as he lays his palm flat on the table, teal eyes boring straight into you. 
“Well, well looks like your assumption is wrong.” 
“I doubt it, stop mincing your words and just say you enjoyed a few drinks with your boss.” 
Your body turns around fully, glaring stare connecting with his teal one. Ticking of a clock sounding throughout the quiet kitchen.
So that’s why he’s behaving like this, partners with wandering eyes tend to project their hypocritical insecurities onto the other after all. 
“Then why don’t you say you’ve been enjoying your visits to Nilou?” Something more venomous than sour wine drips off your words. 
“How is she related to this conversation?” His eyes narrowing at you, unlike the same teal irises that reflected the scarlet of her hair. 
“You know exactly what I mean.” You spat his own words back at him, maneuvering around him as you make your way back to your room. 
At this point you weren’t sure what was the cause of the headache threatening to form.
The wine? This deafening silence? Or the thought of Padisarahs?
You don’t care, you want to go to bed. The thuds of his steps weren’t far behind yours as you trek through the halls.
“Our conversation hasn’t concluded.” His deep voice ringing in your ears. 
“Yes it has.” Your room was just in sight.
“No it hasn’t.” His hand encloses around your wrist.
There you were, halfway through the doorframe of your room with the pull of his hand preventing you from getting the rest you want.
There’s no longer any space left in a shattered bottle, just a rippling ocean getting rougher and rougher with each deep breath. 
“Can’t you be honest?” His ironic, paradoxical words causes the tide to crush against each other. 
“Can’t you be honest? Do you think I wouldn’t notice your showers right as you come back from ‘work’? You’ve been driving the water bill up with your cover-up efforts.” Glaring right into those damn beryl eyes, frown breaking your stiff lips. 
“Cover-up? What a bold accusation coming from the same person who awaits a call everynight.” He mirrors your scowl. 
“Maybe its because work offers better company than this stifling house.” 
Alhaitham grip tightens on your wrist as his lips press into a firm line, indecipherable stare weighing down upon your frame. His broad shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath. 
“Strip,” he commands.
“Have you gone mad?” You snap back, unable to budge in his hold. 
“Yes, furious even.” 
It didn’t take much effort for him to make his way into your room, pulling you in as well. You could barely keep up with it all, glaring at him but it didn’t affect him one bit.
The movement causes your dress to shift. Glancing down you realize a strap of your dress slipped off, leaving one side of your breast dangerously exposed. 
With swift strides, he arrives at the edge of your bed. It’s rare for you to dawn such attire, applying a lovely shade of crimson to those plush lips, and tying your hair up so nicely. Did you get all dressed up for Bahram? Why couldn’t it be for his viewing only? 
Tsk, noisy nonsense is cluttering his mind, those the claws of a green-eyes monster digging into his last shred of restraint. Seizing his rationality in its ugly, greedy hands tighter and tighter the longer your soft thighs pressed against his tense body.
Crashing into those crimson lips of yours, one hand positioning your face to allow his tongue to catch yours by surprise. Letting the two muscles dance together as his other hand explored the expanse of your body, pulling up the silky fabric to grant his palm the pleasure of gracing your soft thighs. 
‘Oh, so this is what he wants,’ you thought as your lips moved against his.
‘Fine, might as well experience what he’s been doing behind your back.’ The fingers of your free hand tangling themselves into his hair, tugging at ashen locks with disregard. 
Unfortunately, the pesky need for oxygen made Alhaitham release your lips. Chest panting as his darkened gaze observed the state of your lips. Crimson smeared over the corner of your glossy lips. You put so much effort into painting them, making sure they were nicely defined. 
However, it felt so cathartic to know that he’s the one who messed them up, no one at the party saw them like this. Only him. 
“I’ll ask you one last time, strip now.” Not letting go of your face. 
“Go to hell,” you spat out. 
And the last chain broke, dignity and self-control reduced to nothing more than ash as his hunger commanded him. Go to hell you say?
“Then I’ll take you with me,” he sneers through clenched teeth, pushing you into the mattress face down. One hand restraining those disobedient hands of yours behind your back.
Before protest could leave your lips a rip resounds through the hot air.  Alhaitham knows he should be delicate with it. That he should carefully pull the zipper down your back, letting the fabric naturally drape off your frame.
 However, a man who starved for six years now knows nothing about patience. 
You feel the silky fabric slip off, leaving you in nothing but your panties. Teal eyes honing in on the darkened patch on the thin fabric, a dry chuckle leaving his lips.
“Wet just from this? Or were you wet during dinner too?” He pulls the fickle fabric off. 
You wiggle in his hold, face flushed with frustrated embarrassment at your current predicament. However, in terms of strength you’ll always lose to Alhaitham. A violent flinch jolts your body as he runs a finger runs along your glistening slit. 
“What a lewd thing, has he seen this slutty hole of yours?” Alhaitham watches the way your cunt quivers with each stroke of his digit. 
“Do really you think I’d sleep with my boss?” Your voice slightly muffled by the sheets as you turn your face to the side. 
“I need to confirm it.”
With two fingers, he spreads your soft pussy lips apart, keen eyes observing the trail of slick starting to drip down from between them. He sees the muscles of your entrance clenching around nothing, he glides a digit in, feeling your slick walls clamp around it. Clear essence drooling out. He hums in satisfaction before sliding his finger out, you bite into the sheet to silence any sounds. 
“Enjoying this?” He muses, fingers spreading your cunt again. 
You don’t respond, but the glare you’re sending his way makes his lip curl into a smirk. For once he could read the emotions behind your stoic eyes, he wants to see more.
Trailing his fingers up your slit until they bump into a hard nub making your body twitch. Softly pinching your clit between two fingers, he slowly rolls the senesitve bundle of nerves as you bite harder to stop your moans. 
Cunt slick but unstretched, clit throbbing but not swollen, only your essence coating his fingers. Looks Bahram hasn’t gotten the chance to taste you yet.
Calming the thrashing of a green-eyed beast just slightly. However, this wasn’t enough. Alhaitham feels the parchedness of his throat as his eyes scan over your glistening slit.  
Alhaitham once believed that the touches exchanged when his fingers brush against yours while passing plates, when you pull a blanket up his napping frame, or when your bodies briefly pressed against each other as he helps you hang the laundry out was enough to satisfy him. That he could sustain off just borrowing your lotions. 
Such a false assumption, a foolish one even. As the heat radiating off your body melts away another restraint he imposed on himself. Alhaitham realizes just how much he’s been starving himself. 
Thumb rubbing firm circles into your clit, the pleasure making your legs close together, trying to shut him out but the grip of his hand stops your attempt. 
“Tsk, stay still.” His strength pinning your legs apart, showing you just how ‘feeble’ he was. 
In retaliation, he pushes your legs further apart. Exposing more of yourself to him, it was embarrassing enough to almost make your lust-hazed mind care.
Thick fingers gathered up drops of slick leaking out from your dripping cunt as your lewd hole unable to contain its greed. Allowing him more access, feeding into his greed further.
Two fingers tracing the rim of your entrance before it slowly pushes through. Instantly, your gummy walls clamped down on his fingers, making him hiss through clenched teeth.
“If you’re grasping my fingers this much, how will you take something larger?” His breath ghosting over your cunt. 
Your toes curled in the air as a kiss was pressed against your throbbing clit, almost enough to let a gasp escape you. Biting back a drawn out moan as his tongue traced your leaking slit, starting with your sensitive numb then traveling up to lap at the essence escaping your stretched hole with the smooth muscle then back to flick at your clit.
You never realized just how pent up your body was until whines and moans just fell from your lips like water. Turning your head away, pressing your face into the mattress in hopes it’d catch those sinful sounds. 
“Tsk.” Alhaitham escalated the pace of his fingers. 
A sharp slap against your puffy clit, shooting white-hot pleasure up your core. With a gasp you pulled away from the sheets, unable to stop the moan which tumbled out. Hastily, you tried to muffle your voice again, only for a warning squeeze on your still pinned wrist stopping you.
You’ve enjoyed your silence, he’s been deprived of those sultry moans, so for tonight let him enjoy them to the fullest extent. 
Your back arched, hips bucking in the air. Your little pussy finally rewarded his hard work with a rush of slick soaked the sheets and his face further. Swiftly removing his fingers again with a disgraceful squelch, only for his tongue to dip into the cavern they left. He slurped and lapped up every drop of your nectar, quenching a thirst he never knew he had. 
Overstimulated clit trying to flinch away from each nerve-frying lick while your weeping walls beckoned his tongue to go deeper. The tightness in his pants was painful now, engorged tip rubbing against the fabric and soaking it in precum.
With his unyielding hold, his half-lidded eyes, and his unrelenting tongue lapping up all of your essence while bullying your poor nub, you were powerless. Unable to hide from his hungry gaze, nails digging into his unflinching hand, and chest heaving with the mounting pleasure in your core.
Scowl long replaced by a loose expression, the pleasure ripping through every fiber of your being. Shooting up from your curled toes to the eyes seeing only the back of your head, the edge growing closer and closer-
Alhaitham pulls away, your slick dripping down his chin glistening in the moonlight illuminating the room. Cruelly pulling back from the edge before you could taste true euphoria. No, he doesn’t think you deserve it yet. Flipping your body effortless on your back, wrists now pinned above your head.
His teal eyes drank the sight of your breast bouncing with each pant, puffy cunt clenching desperately, and the glimmering tearful eyes rivaling the stars themselves. A sight so sinful the devil is writhing in envy. 
“What the fuck?!” You thrashed in his hold again, mourning the lost of the orgasm your body was denied. 
“With this attitude, you should be grateful for what you got. I’m tired of waiting.” Alhaitham sneers next to your ear, chest pressed against yours before his warmth pulls away. 
Tugging his pants and boxers down his thighs with a hand still coated in your nectar, trailing kisses and red splotches in the valley of your breast as his precum and your slick mixed with each stroke of his shaft. The wet sounds even reached your ears.
Making the mistake of looking down, your eyes widened as they comprehended his length and girth. Your restless pussy twitching but your legs closing as to preserve the last of your ego. Something thick pressed against your dripping pussy making your hole quiver and legs freeze as his tip threatens breach your entrance.
“Trying to be coy now? When you were moaning like a whore mere minutes ago.” Smug teal eyes peering down at you. 
Another frown breaks onto your face at his pointed words. Your tongue is just as sharp, best to remind him of that fact.
“What a practiced line, you say the same things to her as well?” A mocking smile curling your lip as a scowl tugs down at his.
Too self-satisfied with your small victory to notice his large hand gripping onto your hips, aligning himself with you. With a sinful squelch, Alhaitham snaps his cock fully in. Your lips thrown open with a gasp as your back arches off the mattress.
“I. Never. Had. An. Affair. So, instead of spewing out anymore nonsense, why don’t you just moan instead?” Puncuating each word with thrust of his hips, feeling the vibration of each syllable in his chest pinned against yours. 
Jagged words ready at the tip of your tongue, yet you couldn’t form a single sentence. With a broken moan your back slowly descended back onto the sheets.
Tearing a hiss from his clenched teeth and a breathless moan from you, gummy walls contracting down tighter and tighter with each girthy inch pushed as his balls slap against the slick down your ass. Nothing could’ve prepared him for this. Alhaitham stays there, tip pressed against the deepest part of you, a furrow between his brows.
Alhaitham knows he should be gentle. He knows he should allow your walls to grow accustomed to his girth by slowly rolling his hips against yours. 
However, you just won’t stay still. Mewling and whining against his frame, nails clawing at his hand as your legs fluttered in the air. Each movement makes your pussy slurp around his stiff cock, lapping at the girth as if trying to pull him deeper than he already was. 
Tempting his hunger like a lunatic testing a starved beast, it’ll only be so long before the hunger bends the iron bars containing it and devours you. 
“AH!” A sharp slap of his hips rips a moan from your lips. 
Alhaitham pulls you off his cock until the tip threatens to slip out, then thrusts it all back in one fluid motion. Instinctively your teeth clamps down on your disobedient lips, desperately trying to bite back those lewd noises. The slurping of your greed welcoming him over and over was embarrassing enough. 
What a selfish move, trying to deprive him once more of your pretty moans. Provoking that ugly appetite within the pits of his stomach again. If you won’t behave, Alhaitham decides to fuck the stubborness out of you. 
Each thrust of his hips into yours rocking the sturdy bed, bullying your poor sensitive pussy still recovering from a ruined orgasm. Hands and hips held within bruising grips. The pitched gasps every time he railed into a certain spot didn’t escape his keen ears, his hips now angled to bully that spot with each thrust.
How helpless you were to the devastating rush of dopamine, endorphins, and oxytocin. Unable to ground yourself on anything, your last wisps of sanity swept away by the waves of pleasure. 
A groan reverberates deep in Alhaitham’s chest, the sudden convulsions of your slick walls trying to milk him. It was almost impossible to move with the way your pussy just kept clamping down.
Unfortunately, his hips couldn’t seem to care, operating solely on selfish desire.
Fortunately, a fresh wave of arousal aided in his rhythm, relentless slams bouncing your body and bed. 
Strength long leaving your arms Alhaitham releases his hold on them in favor of supporting your limp hips, a breathy chuckle leaving his lips as lust-hazed eyes honed in on the frothy white ring forming on his shaft.
All your lips could do was babble out nothings as the headboard continued to beat the poor wall. Cunt thanking his cock with a contraction every time his tip knocks against your weakness. 
The sweet moans caressing his ears, the filthy slaps echoing through the room, and your walls pulling him deeper and deeper, Alhaitham was at his limit.
There was nothing separating you two, he had enough sense left to know that. Reeling in the reins of his greed, he pulls back, fingers digging deeper into your plush skin. Well, he tried to pull back, but your locked ankles behind his back foiled this plan. 
He felt so hefty in you, heavy balls slapping against your ass as his girth and length tore apart your sensibility. Something deep inside your cunt pleaded to be fed, to be filled, pushing your limp legs to lock ankles.
He feels a bit too far for your liking, blindly your hands groped at his body. Finally, reaching his face, cupping it roughly, you crash his lips down onto yours. Tasting yourself on his tongue still, but you couldn’t care less.
As your tongues tangled together, Alhaitham reached his limit. Pressing his thick tip as deep as it’d go, thick ropes of cum start to coat your walls with each twitch of his cock. His shaky moans swallowed up by your kiss.
The slurping of your pussy milking his still throbbing cock only prolonged his hunger. 
Dropping his head into the space between your neck and shoulder, he relishes in what he’s been depriving himself of. Feeling the faint shiver of your neck against his face.
Something was fogging up his mind, Autumn breeze doing nothing to quell the heat burning him.
“Ah! Mmmh! A-ah Ah!” 
The first rays of dawn breaking through the navy sky, the light so flushed by the scene it witnessed, it’s pink hue illuminated skin into the room heavy with lust and the slap of wet skin. 
“N-no more… too m-Ah!-much-ch.” Intoxicated brain sputtering out broken sentences. 
 It really was too much, you’ve cum too much to bother remembering, from the creamy drops dripping onto the soaked sheets, he’s also cummed too much.
Pussy overflowing and spasming with each thrust pushing more milky seed out.
Cock rubbing its red tip rawer with each quiver of your gooey walls. 
Six years of starvation will make any man forget gluttony is a sin.
“Too much? No More?” A husky pant between each word as Alhaitham continues with his punishing rhythm. 
“If that’s the case… then why is your pussy refusing to let me go?” His chest pressed against your back, caging you further as his breath tickles your ear. 
Unable to form a sentence anymore, your head pathetically shook side to side, stubbornly denying the obvious. Looks like he hasn’t fucked out of you yet, better change that. Large fingers digging further down on bruised hips, as the pistoning of his thrusts escalated.
Bed frame pushed to its limits.
Each smack of his hips against your limp body further drowning your pride out in a flood of dopamine. It’s mounting again, that familiar pressure building up in your core, making your toes curl in painful arches.
There’s a sudden flick at your swollen clit, walls flinching as his fingers encircles around the abused nub. 
“Who’s making you feel this way?” His husky voice too close to your ear.
Groundless pride preventing you from unsealing you lips, refusing to feed into his ego anymore than your wanton moans already did. 
“Who are you showing this shameful face to?” There’s an edge to his voice again, why must you be so stubborn?
Once more you refused to answer. Making Alhaitham’s jaw clench and his fingers roll your clit harsher, making your bruised hips thrash.  
“Who’s shape is engrained into this lewd body?” Voice dangerously low as he pushes his thick tip deeper against your beaten and painted walls, fingers never stopping their torment on your little nub. 
The edge was getting closer, you knew you’ll fall off it soon, you’ll dive head first into the euphoric sea of dopamine, endorphins, and oxytocin and drown.
“Ah-ah Al-mmh!” You try to collect your breath.
Alhaitham quickens his fingers on your clit, feeling your greedy cunt clamp down on him again, walls suckling his twitching tip as his balls tighten. He’s close, but he needs you to say what he’s been waiting to hear all night. 
“Alh-ah a-a…” Your hips shaking violently in his hold now. 
Lust-glazed eyes staring straight into equally hazed teal eyes. Shaky hands slowly weaving themselves into his damp ash locks, gently pulling his ear closer to your lips, your hoarse voice just barely audible.
“A bastard.” 
Self-satisfied smirk plastered over your loose face as your tear blurred vision catches the stunned expression on his handsome face. 
The heat of his touch, the chemical stirring in your brain, and the pleasure frying your nerves made a delirious smile grace smudged lips. Your sight so hazed by lust you couldn’t see where your smile was even directed to.
Alhaitham wanted to etch the sight of your debauch face, smeared makeup and glazed eyes rolled back, into his memories forever.
Too caught off guard by your response to remind his hand to stop its movement before it was already too late. Eyes seeing the back of your head, back arching under his frame, you fell back into the all consuming waves of pleasure. 
A hard earned victory in this veiled battle of two egos. Exhaustion seeping into every fiber of your being. The pale pink of twilight dimming in your vision as the dark hands of sleep covers your eyes.
Somewhere in the middle of drifting off into a blank nothingness, you feel a hand tenderly guiding your head to rest on a soft pillow. 
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Your eyelids twitch and brows furrow as the brightness of the room crept its way behind your shut eyes. Unable to retreat back into the dark embrace of sleep, you begrudgingly open your heavy lids.
Greeted by blurred shapes and fuzzy colors, you slowly blink your unfocused eyes. Gradually, the shapes and colors merge into distinguishable objects: a mug left on your bedside table with vapors rising from its rim. 
“It’s morning-after tea.” A husky voice followed by the distinct flip of paper tenses every muscle in your body. 
Alhaitham’s still here. You wish he wasn’t, you wish he’d realize last night was a mistake created from the clashing of egos, you wish the other side of your bed was empty.
So why did the tightness in your chest melt away with the mere sound of his voice?
You drag your sore body up from the sheets, shaky hands supporting the weight of numb legs and throbbing hips. Your sealed lips refusing to give him the satisfaction of any audible ques of your current state.
Sitting at the edge of your bed, back bare of anything but your hair draping over the marked skin facing him, you took the warm cup into your hands. 
A harmony of methodical sips and soft turns of pages fill the room, an open window washing away the haze of lust with an Autumn breeze. Just as the last bit of tea slides down your throat a gentle slap of a book snapping close brings an end to the heavy silence. 
“It’s unreliable,” Alhaitham announces. 
Peering over your shoulder with a quirked brow, freezing as you recognize the book clutched in his hands. Not waiting for a response, he continues. 
“Anyone with eyes can see how his biases exude through each sentence. He only studied 15 couples, not an appropriate sample size for a world filled with millions of pairs. His experiments have yet to be replicated, it seems his status is what got this nonsense published.” He sets the book down. 
“What are you trying to say?” Your eyes narrow in suspicion. 
“Your theory of phenylethylamine having a shelf life is based on nonsense.” His eyes connect with yours with that familiar indifference. 
A frown twists your face, so he still wants to argue huh. Of course, what else did you expect? You and him have long gone down the bitter circular path you’ve seen travled before.
Irritation rising in your chest, like Alhaitham had jabbed his finger into a wound you’ve yet to heal. 
“Oh, then your theory must be the intrinsic truth, huh?” Words leaving an acidic aftertaste on your tongue. 
“I never-”
“Look at you, so correct with no data to support your vague mathematical thesis.” You cut him off, anger replacing the soreness of your legs. 
Cup knocking against a bedside table as your hand casts it to the side, getting off the bed you march into your closet, pulling a random shirt on without regard of your movements wrinkling the fabric.
You just needed to leave this room, just being by his side is making your blood pressure rise. Your bed creaks as Alhaitham gets up as well, but your back was already through the door. 
Two sets of steps trekking through the halls, paces mismatched as one tries to take quicker steps to counter the broader strides of the other. Alhaitham keeps pace with your escalating march. 
“It’s a critique of his research, not you,” he voices. 
You didn’t want to hear it, sharply pivoting into your home office, but you weren’t fast enough to stop Alhaitham from following you in.
Now a husband wants to spend time with his wife, where was this before? 
“It’s an experiment conducted at the Akademiya, how is that not reliable enough? You think you can do better?” Your body whipping around with a glare directed at him, your hideous ego showing its face again. 
“Are you listening to yourself right now? Do you even believe in such a shallow analysis?” He mirrors your glare. 
“I’d rather believe in something with actual quantifiable numbers.” 
“Fine, you want quantifiable numbers? Care to calculate along with me? Or is your mind still recovering from last night?” Alhaitham folds his arms in front of his chest. 
“Go for it,” you say through gritted teeth, accepting his challenge, wanting to shush that snooty tone of his. 
“The Akasha bases its pairs off demographic, interest, and dispositions, all variables we can calculate,” he states. 
You straighten up your back, staring him in those teal eyes with your head held up high.
“Sumeru city is home to roughly 1 million people. Only 1/3 are around my age.” Alhaitham begins his trail.
“That brings that number down to about 333,333.” No delay in your response.
“Only 1 in 10 people have a personality I can tolerate, then suppose only 1 in 20 of those people can withstand mine.”
“ Rounding up that leaves about 1,667 candidates.” You tsk at his estimations, that number should be far greater than 20. 
 “Next comes shared interest, only 1 in 4 people have touched a physical book in the past year.” 
“417 left.”
Perhaps the gods didn’t think cheating you out of a childhood was enough, out of 417 people you had the misfortune of staring at his stony face. 
“Having to arrange 417 separate meetings at a small cafe would be much too burdensome for the Department of Human Relations. The scope needs to be narrowed further.” Alhaitham takes a step forward.
“Only 1 in 16 will have the patience to teach a grown man how to avoid wrinkles in his button downs.” Baritone voice losing its pointed edge. 
“26 left.”  You take a step back to preserve the space, hating how your skin craves the heat of his. 
“Only 1 in 8 of those people will allow me to borrow their books even when they know the edges of the paper will be creased when its returned.” He takes another step.
As you take another step backwards, the edge of your office desk prevents you from retreating further. The sensation of the cold wood distracting you momentarily from your calculations. 
“Then only 1 in 6 people will drape a blanket over a body that hogs an entire couch for a nap, placing a pillow under my head to ensure I don’t wake up with a sore neck.” Alhaitham doesn’t stop. 
Reaching an arm out, he firmly sets his palm on the expanse of your desk, caging you between the wood and the risk of your skin feeling the heat radiating off his body. 
“How many people are left now?” His breath ghosts the shell of your ear.
“ 0.543,” You blurted out.
A deep furrow appears between your brows, something must’ve gone wrong in your calculation, it’s impossible to have half a person. In the context of the Akasha, one person, a whole person, is matched to another.
Once more your mind ran the numbers over again, then again, and then thrice trying to recompute the figures. 
Each time the same number came back: half a person. 
“Are you mocking me with those groundless fractions? Where did you even get those statistics from?” Your pointed gaze still directed at him, did he intentionally lead you down this illogical trail? 
“Logic is neither an art nor a science but a dodge.” He peers down at you, teal gaze back to its neutral state. 
“Ha! Says the man who places logic and rationality on a pedestal, what caused such a change, Alhaitham?” You laugh dryly, not bothering to decipher the most brainless qoute you ever heard him use. 
No change in his expression as his shoulders rise with a deep inhale, exhaling slowly as he leans his face in, his finger digging his palm against lacquered wood. 
“Instead of wasting time citing subpar research, you should’ve just been honest. Then maybe I’ll give you what you want and sign those damn papers you hid away in this desk.” Voice low but steady as his gaze never leaves your frame. 
It was a strange phenomenon, the chirping of the crickets had halted as two bodies remained unmoving, not even a single grain of dust dare move. If it weren’t for the faint ticking of a hallway clock, it would’ve seemed like time had stopped.
How long has he known about the divorce papers neatly stacked away a desk drawer?
Alhaitham slowly backs his body away from yours, hand returning to his side, freeing you from the cage it created. Teal eyes carefully observes your downcast stare and stiff shoulders as guilt suffocated him.
All the emotions he bottled up, all the fervor he held back, all the desires he swallowed down. It all came tumbling out, spilling out into a murky, repulsive mess. 
“Wife.” If he had spoken any louder than a breathy whisper, that word would’ve crumbled on his tongue. 
“I love you.” Alhaitham finally allows the words which have been clinging on his tongue for years now to fall out of his mouth. 
Every inch of you froze at those three words, the weight of his stare heavy on your shoulders.
“Do you really feel nothing from those words?” Baritone voice beckoning an answer from you. 
You don’t dare lift your head, gaze downcasted and frozen. Because you know you’ll have to stare at your reflection in his eyes. 
Phenylethylamine, oxytocin, dopamine.
All these hormones and chemicals should’ve ran their course through your body. The haze should’ve faded and the abnormality of your chest should’ve corrected itself. It’s been three years at this point.
So, why is your chest aching?
The wood grain of the floor began to blur together as bitter tears compensated for the painful stinging of your irises. There it is, your brain finally short-circuits as the logic which once held up your sanity has crumbled away. 
Finally, you met his gaze, staring right at your reflection in teal irises. 
“It’s suffocating to be with you… it’s so lonely in this quiet house… it burns me like fire to touch you… yet… and y-yet see-”
“Seeing you leave will kill me, ” Alhaitham spoke the words just about to fall from the tip of your tongue.
The last piece of evidence that shattered the hypothesis he cultivated for all his life. If soulmates don’t exist, if the concept of an ‘other half’ doesn’t exist, then why is he feeling the same agony as you?
Looks like both theories were wrong in the end. Mathematics and chemistry unable to solve the enigma known as love. 
“I… I want to love… but I’m drowning… Alhaitham.” You were finally honest, you’ve been drowning all your life, thrashing hands searching for something to hold onto.
Would you be oh so kind enough to grab that pen just behind you and stab its steel nib into his chest? Alhaitham’s certain that it would hurt less than the words that left your trembling lips. 
A gentle hand cradled the back of your head as he pulls you closer. Letting those bitter tears strain his shirt and burn his skin.
No one, but the audience of a curious star and capricious gods peering down behind their blanket of clouds into this quiet house. 
Alhaitham once thought of himself as a good husband. Doing his fair share of chores and paying his half of the bills.
However, seeing your broken figure barely clinging onto his stiff frame, it’s clear that his overconfident assessment was a grave error. 
A  good husband would’ve been more attentive. A good husband would’ve noticed the tide slowly sweeping you away into the rough sea. A good, loving husband would’ve never let you sink alone in salty tears.
“Then I’ll drown with you.” His other hand grasping onto one of yours, slowly easing it away from his wrinkled shirt with soft caresses. 
Only monsters live in the deep cold sea, the only creatures able to survive the saltine waters and the pitch black nothingness. But as long as your fingers wove themselves into the gaps between his, he’ll be warm even as he sits on the sandy bottom of the murky ocean. 
Maybe that’s where the two of you belonged, two unromantic and prideful fools sitting at the bottom of the ocean.
Hand in hand so that the stupidity contained between the two of you won’t pollute anyone else. 
Gradually, those aching hiccups of yours faded into nothing more than muffled whimpers. Allowing silence to creep its way back into the gaps. The cause of this mess in the first place.
He has to remedy this, but what should he say? All those encyclopedias and journals he had thumbed through were all for naught. For Alhaitham’s mind couldn’t recall one fact from those pages.
One hand patting a slow rhythm into your back, trying to buy the man some time.
When logic and reasoning fail to explain the unexplained, folklore takes its place.
“According to legends, people used to have two pairs of hands, two pairs of feet, and two faces pointed in opposite directions.” He began.
“Back then, humans were powerful, powerful enough to threaten the gods who created them. So the gods split them in two. Cursing humans to a cruel search, desperate to be whole again.” His other hand still toying with your fingers.
You peer up at him, head still resting against his chest, feeling the soft beating of his heart. Blinking away the tears, listening to his telling of a myth. 
“That’s the origin of a soulmate.” He finishes.
A soft giggle leaves your lips, a mixture of confusion and disbelief from Alhaitham quoting a fairytale. 
“And you believe in that?” Amused gaze connecting with brilliant beryl eyes. 
“Yes…because I found you.” Alhaitham tenderly brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss against your fingers as a glint catches the sunlight. 
With a foreign sensation hugging a finger, your brows furrow. Holding your hand out toward the light again. Blinking eyes finally identify the gem which coyly appeared on your ring finger.
So that’s what he was doing, your tear stained cheeks shifting up as a smile stretches your once stiff lips.
Burying your head in the chest of the most unromantically romantic idiot you’ve ever known, a radiant laugh bubbling in your chest as it resonates off quiet walls. 
But as he is, so are you: An unromantically romantic soulmate in love. 
~Fin
©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. 
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thatsdemko · 8 months
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without you there’s nothing to live for - l.norris
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masterlist
pairings: lando norris x fem!reader
warnings: jealousy + insecurities + fluff + build up(kinda long I’m sorry about that) + some errors here or there
a/n: while I had bits and pieces of this work in millions of other lando drafts I think I have to give credit where it’s due to @userlando and her anons ☺️🫶 I’m in such a shit mood so i figured posting this might make me feel better. enjoy xx
Lando Norris was annoying. a childhood friend of yours that somehow stuck throughout the years and never seemed to vanish. he was like a a piece of gum stuck to your shoe, he just never left.
and while you’re thankful he’s the longest lasting friendship you have; did you fail to mention he could be annoying?
his hands drum against the kitchen island, a distraction worthy of you flicking your pencil in his direction, but he’s too quick the pencil would just end up behind him, so you result in throwing him a very pointed look that shuts him up.
“is that pencil up your ass too today?”
you give him another look before staring down at the empty grocery list you failed to create, because lando has claimed your flat as his flat. the lavish lifestyle penthouse was abandoned at the instant call of your arrival to Monaco, and now all of his expensive taste clutters your space.
“did you put eggs on the list? I need eggs. it’s good protein—“ he shuts up to the sound of you breaking the pencil in half, another annoyed look tossed his way.
lando could be a lot. but there was no one who could keep up with you. there was no one like him in your corner, and while he pushed your buttons you were eternally grateful for his loyalty despite your rather jaded friendship.
“let’s just go to the store? I’ll drive.” he says like there’s another alternative to the store. ever since he got his license and moved in, you’ve never even put your foot on the accelerator. you’ve almost forgot the thrilling feeling of driving.
“eggs have been added to the list.” you finally say, typing up your notes of a grocery list once you were finally able to think straight without lando tapping away or chatting your ear off.
god was he annoying, but you loved him for him.
his wallet funds are bigger than what you have. you feel guilty every time he buys, but it’s not like you have the funds to do so. he knows that guilty look across your face when he ends up paying for 10% groceries and 90% female hygiene products. he doesn’t mind, just shoves his card in the machine and says a thank you for the person who bags your things.
“you have to let me pay you back—“
“no, nonsense.” he cuts you off, the conversation goes like it always does. you beg, and beg, to try and wiggle in a payback, but he refuses. all those years of your parents giving him shelter, taking him to races, or letting him play in your backyard it’s the least he could do.
“but the price adds up, and you’re paying for most of the rent—“
“I won’t have this conversation with you. just get in the car.” he says it without letting you have another word in. it’s his turn to shoot you down with pointed looks every time you try to mention money.
“y/n?! is that you?”
lando’s heart nearly drops to his stomach at the sound of that voice—that voice, being your ex boyfriend. he came out of nowhere, like the stalker he is, and finds himself walking around lando’s spiffy mclaren with wide eyes and confusion at your presence with the formula one driver. he must’ve forgotten lando was your best friend.
“you going to introduce me to your new boyfriend?”
before you can protest lando shakes his hand. you can tell by the grip lando has on him it’s a firm hard handshake. one to prove a point about the 2 a.m calls of you crying to your best friend from across the world. he was a shitty man, and maybe showing lando off like that would put him in his place.
“this is lando, you guys met awhile back.” you say.
you watch the two of their eyes glimmer in the sunlight with hatred for one another. lando was the guy you told him not to worry about— and he still was— and he was the guy lando was desperately wanting to kick ass.
“don’t remember that.”
“I actually remember, didn’t you spend half the night snogging another girl?” lando’s gentle reminder makes your ex’s face flush pale. you watch a little smile lift to lando’s lips before you both excuse yourselves to head home.
“my new boyfriend is so cool.” you say in a sarcastic tone once it’s just the two of you in his car.
lando let’s out laugh, and just puts the car in reverse. the simple act makes your head spin. his hand reaching behind the head of your seat, the way his eyes quickly glance on you before he looks back to ensure no one is coming. these thoughts were never present until this run in. would lando be a good boyfriend?
you can’t help but explore those thoughts in the twenty minute car ride home in pure silence.
your mind wanders to the idea of waking up to him in your bed. his legs tangled with yours, lazy soft kisses pressed your cheeks. you could melt at just the thought of it.
or maybe he’d make you eggs. you’d wake to the smell of bacon grease and him shirtless—like he always is in the kitchen— creating a masterpiece meal that you devour in minutes.
what switch has suddenly changed in you? because now when you look at lando, your heart does things it never did before. your head spins of ideas of him as your boyfriend and it’s so sickening you could throw up.
“I’m going to unload the groceries, you’re more than welcome to sit and stare into space for as much as you need.” his words spook you. a little yelp escaped your lips that he’d caught you. your eyes bug wide—like they always are when you get into your daydreams— and mind so full you lose track of time and often forget your surroundings. you had no clue you’d been sitting in the driveway this whole time.
“where do you want the tampons again? I seem to forget.”
“under the bathroom sink please.”
you wonder if you can shove your thoughts under there too. a nap is needed to clear your mind of whatever seems to be boggling it all about lando.
a nap certainly did help, however, waking up to lando shirtless in your bed also napping? yeah, all that hard work of suppressed thoughts came right back.
you think about taking your finger and running it all over the divots, curves, and muscles of his body. you think about how much stronger he’s been looking lately and how the little hair on his chin is growing onto you. what is going on with you?
it was common for lando to come in your room and sleep with you. nightmares were rare for you, but they happened more often than you expected and lando always wanted to be there for it. but this was just a nap? why did he have to come in and sleep with you? he could’ve just slept in his own bed, that certainly would’ve helped your heart if he did.
you roll out of bed and tip toe around your bed, until your heart makes you stop. you stare at his peaceful state. the way his curls fall over his forehead, the thick long lashes you desperately want, the soft smile on his lips— his eyes are opening, shit, you think to yourself.
you quickly book it out of the room to save yourself from the embarrassment of him catching you watching him sleep. what a creep you were becoming in the matter of hours. this is why you shouldn’t like your best friend. hell, this is why you shouldn’t let your man best friend live with you. it was destined for one of you to fall in love.
but it was also destined for you to most likely get your heart broken.
lando doesn’t date women like you. you’ve seen his roster of women rotating in and out of your place, none of them looked like you: an average woman with average looks. who’d want that?
a little part of hope lingers in your chest when you see him enter the kitchen. his lips press against your temple as he mumbles a good morning.
“how was your nap?”
“not long enough.” you admit watching him type away on his phone. his elbows are pressed against the granite counter tops, his fingers work vigorously against the screen. a little smile appears on his lips that make you nauseous. it could just be max, but it could be another girl.
almost two hours ago this wouldn’t of mattered to you. you wouldn’t of cared if lando invited a girl over and you stayed locked up in your room, but now all of a sudden it’s bothersome.
“what’s got you all smiley?” you ask, partially out of curiosity but partially to just kill your heart with his response. he sets his phone face down on the counter resting his chin in the palm of his hand, “max is coming over, and so is pietra.”
“exciting.” you grin, though the words disagree with your expression making his face drop with worry.
“are you worried max is going to take your best friend spot? he could never, y/n.”
best friend. yeah, that’s all you’ll ever be when girls like ria and pietra exist. deadly beauty that could put a man in his place. when was yours ever going to show up?
you’re tipsy off the expensive bottle of wine max brought. your body is pressed against lando’s for support as you all laugh about something max said. you can’t help but wrap your arms around his strong bicep, resting your head against his shoulder listening to pietra expose Max’s recent mess up.
lando doesn’t take notice in the way you’re seated. he knows you’re beside him based off the heat that radiates off your body. you always got overly warm when drunk, and sometimes a bit too affectionate, but he didn’t mind. he actually loved it when you wanted to be beside him.
“so when did this happen?” pietra points her finger between you two, a bright smile pressed against her lips as she cozies herself up to her own boyfriend.
lando clears his throat. he practically yanks his arm out of your grip leaving you to fall back against the cushions beside him. you hide your face into his back out of embarrassment suddenly becoming aware of how you two look. “oh umm—“
“oh gosh! I’m so sorry. I think it’s the wine talking in me.” she quickly apologizes, a blush filters her face similar to yours.
“it’s not the first time today that’s happened.”
“do tell,” max sits on the edge of his seat listening to lando explain the run in, your face is still pressed into his back. you’re hoping that maybe if you just stay there you would disappear into thin air or end up in your bedroom sound asleep away from all of this.
“I still want to kick that guys ass—“
“wait,” pietra cuts off max, her voice demands all the attention in the room. you pry your head from out of lando and peer behind him at her, “you didn’t even tell him you are just friends? you let him assume that you’re dating?”
lando’s mouth opens and closes. nothing seems to come out making max throw his head back in a laughing fit, “oh god! I owe ria money for this, you like y/n!”
Lando’s face is flushed red, a similar color to the glass of wine in his hands. there was nothing he could say. he couldn’t even protest it when it was true. he hadn’t even realized he never corrected your ex boyfriend, because truth be told, he wanted to be shown off as your boyfriend.
“come on pietra, let’s leave these two alone.”
they leave as quick as they came, leaving only the half full bottle of wine for yourselves. you both sit in silence, no one musters up the courage to speak.
you both get ready for bed like nothing happened. the awkward silence eats you up. you want to speak up and tell him you feel the same, you want things to go back to normal. you just want annoying lando back.
when you finally finish your nighttime regiment, you’re ready for bed. you turn the corner into your bedroom and see the silhouette of lando reflecting against the wall. your night light was on, and he was laying in your bed, cozied up under the covers.
“sleeping in here tonight?” you ask slipping under the covers beside him, he moves himself closer to you occupying the middle of the bed.
“you don’t mind, do you?”
you shake your head curling your body against his, “I like it when you sleep with me.” you say making a sense of pride soar through his chest. he likes the way your body molds against his.
“your new boyfriend will protect you.” he smiles down at you, carefully place a kiss to your forehead before reaching over and turning off your lamp.
“thank goodness he’s here, I can’t sleep without him.”
“you know I’m talking about myself right?” he lifts his neck up, face looking down at you, your eyes closed practically half asleep already.
“goodnight, boyfriend.”
“goodnight, girlfriend.”
tags: @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog @monzabee @lpab @frreyaa @motorsp0rt @lovelytsunoda @smoothopz
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myjisung · 7 months
Text
stray kids : calling them pretty !
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content. stray kids ot8, gn!reader, complimenting, idol and non idol!skz, lots of dialog, insecure bangchan, confident hyunjin & seungmin, sillies — fluff.
warning. none
wordcount. 1,6k ( got carried away a little bit )
a/n. sorry, i had brainrot !!
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bang chan ( 방찬 )
"you're pretty"
"now you're just being silly."
"i mean it!"
chan looked back at you, unimpressed. his brow looked unamused and so did his mouth. he did not buy it.
"chan i promise you. you're a very pretty guy."
he shook his head and you could feel your heart break to pieces. no matter how many times you complimented him, whatever the words you chose, chan would not believe you.
"that's not a word i'd use to describe myself" he laughed dryly "i mean, have you seen me?"
enough. you got up and walked towards him. that got his attention. chan turned his face away from his computer to look to your side and you grabbed his face with both hands. shocked, his eye grew a little bigger.
"chan" your voice quivered "you have to believe me. you ARE pretty. always have been. it pains me to hear you deny it over and over again." his lower lip trembled "whatever it is that makes you believe you don't deserve to hear that word being uttered about yourself, forget it!"
he swallowed and his eyes watered.
"okay" he said after a while "alright. i-" he sighed, looked somewhere else then closed his eyes "i can't really- i don't-" another sigh "for you, i'll try."
lee know ( 리노 )
this time, after ten minutes spent trying, your facetime call went through.
"well fucking finally minho! why are you-" on your screen, your boyfriend's face appeared. he was getting makeup, a small brush softly highlighting his nose bridge "oh... you're pretty."
minho laughed gently.
"what is it that you want y/n? why'd you even call me seventeen times? can't you tell i'm busy?"
he tried to use that annoyed tone he usually threw your way when you were being clingy. but you could tell he was blushing, something that didn't happen often enough if you had to be honest.
"well damn, calm down with the questions. can't someone want to talk to their pretty boyfriend?"
another laugh, a shy one this time.
"okay, stop that"
"stop what? calling you pretty? well that's what you are. pretty pretty pretty!"
"alright i'm hanging up"
"MINHO NO WAIT."
you had to call him eight more times for him to pick up a second time.
changbin ( 창빈 )
"can you compliment me some more?"
you had just spent the last fifteen minutes telling changbin about how perfect of a man he was. and there he was asking for more? there were only so many compliments in the world. so much so that you had to think about what to say in order to not repeat yourself.
handsome you had used. super witty you went on and on about without forgetting about complimenting his dedication to living a healthy lifestyle and promoting kindness.
but then, it dawned on you. you knew just what to say.
"you're pretty."
changbin furrowed his brows.
"huh?"
"you're pretty" you repeated. "like, you're actually so pretty."
a tentative smile stretched changbin's lips.
"are you sure?" he was shy. changbin brought his hand to the back of his neck and tickled it gently—as if it was the first time anyone ever used the word 'pretty' to describe him.
"i am" you said without hesitation "you are super pretty, changbin. you've got pretty eyes and a pretty nose and pretty lips and pretty cheeks and and and..."
changbin laughed that silly high pitched laugh of his.
"you've got a pretty face overall."
"that's the first time i heard of it." he finally said, too shy to ask for any more compliments.
you mentally took note: in order to shut my changbin up, call him pretty.
hyunjin ( 현진 )
"what did you think the first time you saw me?"
you looked up from your book to lock eyes with his. that came out of nowhere. tilting your head to the side, you furrowed your brows.
"what do you mean?"
"like" hyunjin looked to the left, pondering how to word his question better "what was your first impression? when we first met, what did you think of me?"
"oh." you went back to your book "he's pretty."
hyunjin coughed.
"that's it?"
"did you expect me to think you were hot or cool or whatever? the first time we met you were drenched in soda and asked me for napkins, not very cool nor hot. but you were very pretty, the prettiest man i had ever seen."
a gentle smile stretched his full lips.
"do you mean that or are you being funny?"
you looked at him again, shocked. after marking the page you were at, you closed your book.
"no what do YOU mean? don't play with me hyunjin. you DO know that you're pretty, right?"
he brought his hand to his mouth but, before he could hide it, you saw his slight smirk.
"i mean..." he started.
"oh come on!"
"no like" hyunjin giggled "i'm aware it's just, i didn't think you'd think that of me. pretty? is that really the impression i gave you?"
"well cut me some slack here! you're a crazily pretty man. sometimes i just look at you for fun. for FUN, hyunjin! i am ENTERTAINED, i am having a GREAT TIME looking at your pretty face."
"okay now you don't have to be dramatic about it"
hyunjin was blushing crazily for someone so confident.
han ( 한 )
he was painting his nails and a look of concentration had him furrow his brow and push the tip of his tongue out of his mouth. han wanted to draw stars on each and every single one of his nails and you admired his dedication to the task.
the room smelled of both nail polish and nail polish remover. the coffee table was littered with cotton pads and q-tips drenched in acetone. the smell had your eyes water but you couldn't leave.
han was just so pretty. and you had to tell him.
"hey" you started.
"busy" jisung replied "can't mess up again."
you heard him but, it had to be said.
"you're so pretty right now."
it took him a while, maybe three or five seconds before the words registered. once he pieced it together, he looked up at you.
"huh?"
"i said, you're pretty"
"no i heard you" he started "it's just... really?"
han kept his brush above his fingers so long a droplet of pink polish splashed on his nail, ruining the design, but you didn't have the heart to point it out yet.
"yeah? you're a very pretty guy, jisung. like, your eyes for starters, insanely pretty"
he gave you a shy smile as his cheeks turned pink. you could tell he was trying to tone down his reaction from the way his leg started bouncing.
"no... you're the pretty one." he finally said.
jisung looked down at his nail and shrieked. he was going to have start over, AGAIN.
felix ( 필릭스 )
"you're so pretty"
you weren't expecting to say that out loud but could anyone even blame you? the sun was hitting felix's face in a way that enhanced his freckles along with the gold of his skin. his long eyelashes tickled the skin under his eyes and the bitten red of his mouth made him look ethereal.
felix was, objectively, a very pretty boy.
his eyes fluttered open and your cheeks blushed pink. felix noticed and a playful smile stretched his mouth.
"d'you mean that?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.
you weren't exactly boyfriend and partner yet. you weren't anything really. something in between, something blurry but neither of you dared saying or doing anything about it. you were content with this in-between, for now.
"i do" you started and he brought a hand to your cheek, letting his thumb gently stroke your skin "you're very pretty, felix"
his smile got bigger.
"thanks" he said "you're super pretty yourself."
you swore your heart leapt out of your chest.
seungmin ( 승민 )
"has anyone told you that you were pretty before?"
"plenty of times actually, y/n."
seungmin smiled playfully and you watched him, deadpan.
"i mean," he started "i get it. don't you?"
he giggled and you could only scoff. can't someone compliment their boyfriend and have him react normally in this economy?
"alright mister pretty boy. i guess you've heard it so much it got to your head."
another laugh, a bright one this time and you could not contain your own smile anymore. seungmin had this way of brightening every room he walked in. he always managed to have you in the best mood and make you forget all of your worries.
"oh no y/n... i beg, compliment me again. i only care when it's you that calls me pretty."
it was your turn to act. pretending to be unimpressed, you looked away.
"well. i better be!"
seungmin giggled again. and so did you.
i.n ( 아이엔 )
shopping with jeongin always took hours. you were used to it at this point, but still. your feet were killing you and you had spent far more money than you had planned to.
your boyfriend had a way with compliments afterall. whatever you tried on, he loved and managed to make you love too so, purchased they were!
"how about this one?"
the fitting room's curtain quickly opened and you were met with yet another huge-pair-of-pants-and-oversized-shirt outfit. it was crazy the way jeongin managed to make them work every time.
"pretty" you said "you're pretty."
he smiled and his eyes crinkled.
"pretty?"
"mh mh" you nodded "you look super pretty. you always do but especially right now. crazily pretty, insanely pretty, gorgeously pretty. extremely pretty even. have you considered-"
jeongin cut you off, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. he giggled against your mouth as you kissed back, sending happy shivers down your back.
"okay i think i get it." he said "you're perfectly pretty too"
with that, the curtain closed again.
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taglist. after being absent for a long while, i'll make a new taglist instead of using the old one so let me know if you would like to be added / removed.
2K notes · View notes
reiding-writing · 4 months
Text
melatonin and oxytocin [ s.r ]
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Summary:
You and Spencer pair up in an inn room that just happens to have one bed. Oh, and did you know that physical contact promotes better sleep? Well, that’s what Spencer says anyway. And he’s always right.
WARNINGS: literally none, crazy i know
pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader
genre: pure fluff, friends to lovers
wc: 5.1k
masterlist!!
a/n: here’s my official apology for all of the angst i put you through in erotomania 😭 i dont write pure fluff like ever so please bare with me if it’s a little stunted 😭🫶 also this is very very loosely based of off 05X21 - Exit Wounds.
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The team was currently in Alaska working on a case, set up in a small inn during their stay. The issue was, they could only provide 4 rooms despite there being 8 members on the team, meaning that everyone had to double up for the night.
Spencer’s first instinct was to turn towards Morgan, but before he even had the chance to open his mouth Morgan was profusely shaking his head. “Absolutely not,”
“Wha-” Morgan held up his hand before Spencer could question his decision. “Never again. You are some kind of vampire I swear,”
Spencer furrowed his eyebrows in Morgan’s direction, met with a shrug. “This man needs his beauty sleep,”
“Dibs!” Garcia leaned over the back of the couch she was sat on so she could grasp at Morgan’s forearm. “I call dibs.”
Morgan chuckles at Garcia’s enthusiasm, leaning over to place a kiss on the crown of her head. “Alright, me and you babygirl,”
Garcia’s soft giggle is joined by a yawn from where you’re sat next to her, and you rub your eye with your knuckle as you lean your head against the back of the couch. “Can we just all choose quickly? I’m exhausted-”
The end of your sentence is cut off with another yawn, only further emphasising your point. Your words were definitely more blunt than usual, your tiredness most definitely making you more irritable.
“I uh- You can share a room with me if you want,” Spencer’s voice is timid as he speaks, and if he wasn’t stood directly behind you you’re not sure you would’ve heard it.
"Sure great, let’s go-" You drag one of the room keys off the small table in front of you as you stand, throwing your travel bag over your shoulder and walking around the couch, placing the palm of your hand flat on Spencer’s back to push him towards the stairs up to the rooms. “Goodnight.”
Your call back to the rest of the team is more of a custom than a genuine wish for them to get a good rest, and if you were more alert you’d probably hit yourself over the back of the head for being so blunt. But politeness wasn’t on your mind right now. You just wanted to sleep.
You fumble with putting the key in the door through your drowsiness, but eventually manage to push the door open to the room.
It’s about what you’d expect from somewhere small like this in the middle of nowhere.
The flooring was dark, with a small rectangular rug in a wine red colour in the centre, the walls an off-white with a slightly suspicious looking water stain in one of the corners. There was a dark-brown leather armchair leaned against the wall next to an ajar door leading to a bathroom, with a decorative pillow of the same shade of red as the rug on the floor. The arm of the chair had a noticeable rip, most probably from a child who’d got bored whilst staying there.
The room was warmly lit from the two lamps on the two side tables, the only other thing on them a basket-weaved mug coaster. The over head light was notably turned off, unable to be used at all seeing as it didn’t even have a bulb in it.
And of course, there was a single queen-sized bed in the centre of the room, it’s frame the same dark wood as the floorboards and definitely just as worn.
Although, the duvet and its pillows seemed brand new, a clean, sparkling white that stood out against the dis-colouring of the wall behind it, a throw blanket over the end and two decorative pillows on top, again matching the other decorative pieces in their dark red colouring.
You didn’t even have to look over at Spencer to know that he was definitely a little perturbed.
With a sigh your drag yourself into the room, dumping your bag on the armchair and unzipping it to pull out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to change into.
Spencer however, remained stood in the doorway, seemingly considering whether it would be a better option for him to go out and sleep in the SUV.
His rational brain told him to just suck it up and get on with it, but he couldn’t help that subconscious voice in the back of his head that rattled on about how unhygienic hotel rooms are, especially in small rural areas like this.
Not only that, he was also battling the reality that he would inevitably have to share a bed with you, even if it was large enough to house both of you without any unintentional physical contact; He was at least grateful that it actually looked clean.
“Can I- leave the light on?” He breaks his own train of thought as he pushes the door closed with his foot, surrendering to the inevitability of spending the night in this dingy room with you.
You give him a short nod as your answer, joined by your third yawn in the span of five minutes. "God I genuinely think I could fall asleep standing up right now-"
Spencer chuckles at your yawn and nods at your words, leaving his bag on the floor as he takes a seat on the left edge of the bed, pulling out a copy of Les Fluers de Mal and flipping through it until he found the page he’d left on.
“It has been scientifically proven that it is physically impossible to fall asleep while standing, as your cerebellum would be triggered in response to the lack of stimulation which would cause a reflexive response to make you sit down.”
Of course Spencer would know something like that.
You rifle through your bag to find your toothbrush and travel toothpaste. "So what I’m hearing is I could fall asleep standing, but then i’d just end up sitting down," You zip your bag shut again once you’ve retrieved everything you need, pushing open the door to the small en suite bathroom, which thankfully, was much newer than the bedroom. "That sounds like falling asleep standing up if you ask me,"
Your voice muffles ever so slightly as you shut the door behind you.
“Yes, that is a fairly logical conclusion,” He nods slightly as he reads, not taking in the fact that you can’t see him from behind the door.
“Although I still believe it doesn’t quite count as 'falling asleep standing', as when you sit down your brain then activates its natural response to the loss of stimulation in order to put you to sleep. You see, it is impossible to enter the first stage of the sleep cycle within that split second between standing and sitting down, meaning that your body would still be awake.”
You chuckle lightly as you stick your head out of the bathroom once you’ve finished changing, toothbrush in your mouth as you dump your work clothes over the arm of the chair.
“The act of falling asleep occurs when your brain begins to transition from a state of wakefulness to a state of deep sleep. This is signalled by a spike in alpha-waves, which creates a relaxed feeling leading to…” He trails off as he watches you walk past him, figuring you’re not listening to him anymore.
"Why’d you stop?" You straighten your posture as you stop momentarily in your tracks, turning your head towards him.
“Oh, I- thought that you weren’t interested in listening to what I was saying.” His reply betrays his surprise at your engagement.
“I was simply going to add that when you are sitting and the spike in alpha waves occurs and you begin to fall asleep, your brain will automatically trigger a response that causes you to slump forward, hence causing you to sit down.”
Your body subconsciously mirrors your brain’s interpretation of what slumping over means as you walk past him again to spit out your toothpaste.
"Oh- like when you’re in a car and your head falls forwards-"
“Yes, that is a fairly similar example actually. Your brain receives the sign that you are beginning to fall asleep when your head starts to nod forward, and this causes a trigger within the brain’s automatic control system that in turn activates a response that makes you sit up straight so that you don’t fall asleep at the wheel.” As Spencer speaks, he shuts his book, leaving it on the side table as he unpacks his bag so he can also change.
“It’s actually rather surprising how the brain is capable of performing such complex tasks that we sometimes don’t even realise,” He said with an astonished gleam in his eye.
"Huh, the more you know-" You give a satisfied nod at Spencer’s little exposition, taking a seat on the right side of the bed and leaning over to turn the lamp off, allowing Spencer to leave his on as he retreats into the bathroom.
You’d never express it verbally, especially not to Spencer’s face, but you quite liked when he’d ramble about topics he was interested in and knew a lot about, it was both educational and weirdly charming.
You let out another yawn as you pulled back the duvet to lie down, extremely grateful that the mattress of the bed was just as new as the bedding itself. Looked like you might be able to get a good night’s sleep after all.
"Did you know that the human brain has over 100 billion neurons making over 100 trillion connections between them. Each second, a 100 billion electrical messages pass from one neuron to another. It is really quite fascinating." Spencer continued his tangents as he exited the bathroom, now clad in a black t-shirt and a pair of tardis pyjama pants that you found oddly endearing.
"That’s a lot of electrical signals…"
"A lot is an understatement" He chuckled, moving over to the left side of the bed and carefully laying himself down, making sure he wasn’t accidentally making any contact with you.
"It is so complex that it is believed that only a portion of our neurons actually fire each second, meaning that there is potentially trillions of more electrical messages going to unused parts of our brain." He seems to get lost in thought, staring up at the ceiling as he considers the idea further.
You hum softly with a small nod at his assessment, turning to lie on your side so you were half-facing him as he looked up at the ceiling, and you couldn’t help but find yourself tracing his jawline with your eyes as you studied how the dim lighting from the lamp besides him gave it even more definition.
Spencer turns to look at you after a few moments and notices your sleepy expression, feeling a tinge of guilt at keeping you awake since you are clearly exhausted. “I should probably shut up and let you get at least a little sleep. “ He chuckles awkwardly, “Sorry for rambling on, I kind of got carried away.”
"It’s okay… I like listening to you…" You rub one of your eyes with your knuckle as you struggle to keep them fully open, eyelids fluttering as you blink repeatedly to keep them from closing shut. You weren’t done looking at him yet.
Spencer’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink at your confession of enjoying listening to what he had to say.
He then starts to talk again, his voice quieter as he tries to accommodate it to your tiredness. “It’s not the brain’s electrical signals that dictate if you sleep or not, by the way. It is actually a neurotransmitter called melatonin.”
“Melatonin is the hormone responsible for controlling your sleep cycle, and it’s responsible for that sleepy feeling we get when we're tired.”
"Mhm…” You nod softly against the pillow, that was one fact you were definitely familiar with thanks to the joys of university, although hearing it come from Spencer’s mouth just made you want to go along with what he was saying like it was brand new to you.
“Melatonin also helps to regulate your body’s circadian rhythm, which is basically your daily schedule,” Spencer explained.
“Our bodies are naturally conditioned to go through a cycle of sleep and wakefulness. During the day your body will release cortisol and adrenaline for stress management and focus, and during the night your body will release melatonin to help you relax, making you feel sleepy.”
“Well i’m certainly feeling the effects of melatonin right now…” You try to keep up your responses to what Spencer is saying without falling asleep, but you can’t help closing your eyes as you focus on the softness of his voice.
Spencer smiles at your response and nods as he looks at you and notices your eyes are closed. “I should probably stop rambling then, since I don’t want to keep you awake for any longer…” He spoke even softer if that was possible, his eyes trailing over your forehead and down the bridge of your nose.
"I like your voice Spencer, it’s calming…" Your words are half muffled as you mumble them against your pillow. "And your facts are interesting…"
“Huh?” He asked you with a raised eyebrow, having not quite heard what you’d said.
"I like hearing you…" You simplify your words a little bit as you repeat what you’d said, a little louder this time, and you force your eyes back open again to look at him.
Spencer’s cheeks immediately turn pink at the compliment, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He is then quiet for a moment as he tries to process what you said.
“You… like hearing my voice?” He asks, a tinge of confusion evident in his voice, to which you reply with a soft nod and a small hum of affirmation. "I hate it when people interrupt you…"
Spencer’s cheeks remain a light shade of pink as he tries to process what you said, and he stays quiet for a while, trying to think of how he could respond to your little confession.
“I… Well… thank you-” he replies, trying to stay calm whilst also hiding his flustered smile.
“No problem…”
Spencer smiles at your response, eyes studying your expression in an attempt to better understand your feelings. All that he can make out however is your hair, and your tired and half-closed eyes.
“You know, you should probably go to sleep.” He chuckles softly, “It’s quite late after all,”
“Yeah… that’s a good idea…” Your voice is quiet as you mutter out an agreement, but you can’t help from feeling a mild disappointment that your small conversation with Spencer was coming to an end.
“Did you know it takes an average of 7 minutes to fall asleep?” You murmur out the fact as a last resort, half-hoping that it will encourage Spencer to keep talking to you.
“Well, it depends on the person actually” His reply is soft and non derogatory, and his eyes remain locked on the peaceful tiredness in your expression. “On average it takes about 15 minutes of lying down in a relaxing environment to fall asleep, however for some people it might take 20 minutes or more. On the other hand, some people can fall asleep much quicker, with one study finding that it only took an individual 65 seconds to fall asleep.”
“I wish I was that person,” You shift slightly to make yourself more comfortable, pulling your right leg upwards towards your chest and incidentally brushing it against his in the process.
Spencer is lost in his emotions as he stares at you, and it takes you turning your head against the pillow for him to realise that he wasn’t fully listening to what you’d said. “Oh- Yeah, pretty lucky huh?”
His eyes avert from you after that, suddenly very intrigued by the water stain in the top corner of the wall opposite where you were laying down, trying to remind himself that it is inappropriate to stare at his colleagues like that.
But despite all the rationalisation, his heart continues to beat at an accelerated pace and he begins to feel strangely excited seeing you move around the bed. You might be tired, but he certainly wasn’t. Not anymore.
Spencer turns to look at you again as you cover your face with your arm, seemingly protecting your eyes from the light of the lamp on his side table.
He’s silent for a moment as he finds himself staring at you again, mentally punching himself for finding himself getting so lost in your facial features.
"Do you want the light off?" He asks you, keeping the tone of his voice gentle.
“No it’s okay,” Shake your head underneath your arm, “You can keep it on…”
You knew about Spencer’s phobia of the dark. The whole team did. It was pretty much a given after what he went through a few years ago with Tobias Hankel. And you wouldn’t mind sacrificing your comfort of sleeping in pitch black darkness if it meant that Spencer wouldn’t be uncomfortable or afraid.
Spencer gives a nod at your answer, and you can tell he’s relieved that you didn’t want him to turn it off. After a few seconds he speaks again.
"Can I ask you something?" He says, keeping his voice soft.
“Mhm?” You move your arm from your face to rest against your forehead so that you can look at him as he speaks.
Spencer's cheeks immediately turn a light shade of pink again as he meets your eyes. “It's… uh… Well, it's a strange question,” He replies awkwardly
“Would… you mind if I… uh….” He pauses, struggling to find the right words. “Would you mind if I put my arm around you?” He eventually manages to say, keeping his voice soft.
“Huh-?” You let you arm fall back down to your side as you process his question, eyes blinking more awake and Spencer’s cheeks only turn more red as he sees your surprised expression.
“Well… You see… I- it's a common thing that people do when sleeping… to… uh… to hold one another..” Spencer replies, still keeping his tone soft and gentle. He begins feels incredibly stupid for even bringing up this topic, hastily trying to explain himself before it has the opportunity to become awkward.
“Is it?-” Your eyes flicker around his face, your eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly as your exhaustion seems to momentarily disappear.
“Uhm… well… usually it’s for romantic reasons,” He replies, his face turning a light shade of pink yet again. “But… uh… I’ve … heard… that some people like to cuddle in a… platonic way… to help them fall asleep…” His voice threatens to waver slightly as he speaks, and he hides the lower half of his face in the bedsheets in an attempt to hide his cheeks, not wanting you to see how red he’s gone.
“Oh- Uh- Well, if you think it’ll help…” Your subconscious mind knew that Spencer was pulling those facts out of his ass, but you didn’t have the mind to care, not when he was practically openly inviting you to drape yourself all over him.
Spencer perks up when you give him the go-ahead, gently wrapping his arm around you and lightly pulling you closer to his body as he turns to look at your face. “Is this okay?”
His expression screams nervousness as he stares at you, praying that you don’t find his actions uncomfortable.
“Mhm…” Your response is short and direct as you nod, adjusting yourself to lie with your head resting under his chin, allowing your arm to drape over his torso like he’d done yours and bringing your leg up to rest over his waist.
Spencer can’t help but smile as he feels you make yourself more comfortable, sliding one of his arms underneath you and moving the other to hold the inside crease of your knee.
“Do you know that physical contact has a calming effect on people’s minds?” He keeps his voice gentle, as he always does.
You give a soft hum that gently vibrates against the skin of his neck, sending a small shudder down Spencer’s back.
He carefully adjusts the position of his head so that he can keep looking at your half-closed eyes, figuring that considering the two of you were practically intertwined like a pretzel that it would be okay for him to gaze at you again.
“You know that skin-to-skin contact promotes the release of oxytocin…. It… uh… it can help to make you feel calm and comfortable,” He says softly.
“Oxytocin…” You mumble the word under your breath as you try to remember what the hormone is, “…the love hormone..?”
Spencer’s voice turns to a whisper as he responds. “That’s correct. A lot of people refer to it as the ‘love hormone’ because it is released at high levels when people engage in romantic activities or are falling in love.”
“It is also responsible for the feeling of trust and comfort,” His hand on your leg begins to draw small circles against your skin, barely feathering over you to the point where you can hardly feel it.
“Would you believe me if I told you that we were producing this hormone right now?”
You sigh softly against his neck at the ghost of his fingers against your leg, only half listening to what he’s saying as you try to focus on the feeling, and Spencer responds with one of his own as he feels the warmth of your breath against his skin, leaving small goosebumps in it’s wake.
Spencer’s fingers slowly widen their ascent up and down the side of your leg, brushing along your thigh as his fingertips gently skim your skin.
“Comforting, isn’t it?” His voice is low and gentle as he feels just how comforting your presence is, slightly shocked by how excited he feels when being this close to you.
“Yeah…” You muster up as much of nod under his chin as you can, giving his torso a slight squeeze from where your hand is around it.
Spencer smiles at your gentle squeeze of his torso, noting how light it is as you barely manage to add any pressure at all.
“Do you know that physical touch also triggers a person’s serotonin and dopamine production?” He asks you softly.
As if to test his fact himself, he moves his thumb up and down your thigh with a little more pressure, his fingertips leaving behind a trail of almost unnoticeable goosebumps.
“Yeah… Yeah I knew that…”
Spencer smiles softly at your confirmation. “Then you know the feeling they’re giving you right now?”
You give him another small nod as he pulls you a little closer to him, stroking his fingers a little higher up your thigh. His arm underneath your side shifts to your mid back and starts to gently massage at the tense muscles formed over your last few days bent over a desk to work on the case’s profile.
The slow pressure elicits a soft groan from your lips, a pleasant release from all of the tension you’d been carrying over the last few days, slowly dissipating as his fingers worked their magic over your t-shirt.
Spencer can feel you starting to relax into his body as his fingers work against your skin, and his breath threatens to catch in his throat as your hand moves from resting around his torso to up over his shoulder, fingers curling closed against the fabric of his t-shirt.
Spencer leans his nose against the crown of your head, the trace scent of lavender entering his nose as he took a slow breath in, most likely a trace from when you’d last washed your hair.
By this point, the two of you were very aware that the position you were in was anything but platonic, his hand tracing patterns into your thigh, your head pressed into the crook of his neck, and your hand slowly tracing over the curve of his shoulder to take it’s place cupping his cheek, your thumb pressed against the front of his ear with the rest of your fingers splayed in the soft curls gracing the side of his head.
“I’ve run out of facts…” Spencer laughs nervously at his confession, breaking the small silence between you.
“you’ve run out of facts…?” You force your eyes to blink open again as you repeat his statement as a question, pulling your head out of it’s position under his chin to look up at him curiously as you arbitrarily trace your thumb over his jaw. It wasn’t at all like Spencer to just not have anything to say.
Spencer’s face turns a dark shade of red when he hears your question, made much worse at the feeling of your thumb on his jaw, the feeling sends a shiver down his spine. “I- Yeah….” He says quietly.
Suddenly a thought passes through his brain.
“I… actually…. I do have one more fact…” his voice turns to a whisper as he speaks, a tinge of nervousness still lingering in his tone.
“Hmm?” Your expression brightens a little, and he catches the small glisten in your eyes as the dim light from the lamp reflects off of your irises.
There’s a short pause.
Spencer then clears his throat before speaking.
“...Do you know that right now... at this very moment... I want to kiss you…?”
He remains facing away, his hands trembling ever so slightly against your skin as he mutters out his confession, trailing off at the end to the point where if you were any further away from him you wouldn’t have heard it.
“...Is that okay…?” His voice was barely a whisper, scared that if he were to speak too loudly he’d scare you off and you’d never want to speak to him again.
“You want to… kiss me..?” His confession spurred you further awake, no longer struggling to keep your eyes open as you scanned his expression, your hand halting its movement against his jaw.
The sight of you gazing up at him makes his heart skip a beat and causes butterflies to flutter in his stomach. Spencer then looks down at the space between your noses, and speaks nervously.
“…I- Yes, I want… to kiss you…” His eyes quickly dart over to your lips and back again as he waits for any signal of acknowledgement or refusal.
“Will it help us fall asleep?” The question leaves your mouth instinctively as a way to try an alleviate the mild awkwardness between the two of you, and you internally berate yourself for not taking the situation seriously.
Spencer laughs a small, nervous laugh when you ask if it would help you both fall asleep, moving his hands back over to your thigh and gently brushing his fingertips against it.
Spencer then looks down at your lips again as he speaks. “No, I don’t think so…” He says, his tone once again turning to a whisper. “…if anything it might actually wake us both up further…”
“Just say it will so I can kiss you-“ Spencer remains silent for a moment, face frozen in shock. He then lets out a nervous sigh as he looks down at your lips again.
“…It- Yeah- Yeah it’ll help us fall asleep…” he whispers, his voice barely audible, and he gives you a nod that’s a little too eager.
“Then there’s no harm in trying right?” Your hand cups the side of his face, gently encouraging it down towards yours so you can finally place a kiss on those perfect pink lips of his.
“Yeah…” He slowly leans forward towards you, taking in your faint scent, the warmth coming from your breath, the softness and moisture of your lips.
Spencer’s lips slowly press against yours, just barely ghosting them with the tiniest bit of pressure. He then slowly pulls back, his eyes darting all over your face before again settling on the stain in the corner of the wall. It was just so interesting.
You take his chin in your hand gently to turn his face back towards your own, your thumb gently tracing the line under his bottom lip as your eyes scan his cheeks, pouring over the extremely faint spotted freckles over his cheeks. You’d never noticed them before. But then again you’d never been close enough to.
“I’m not quite sure it worked… Maybe we should try again…” You watch as Spencer’s face erupts into a beautiful pink flush, a soft breath resembling a laugh leaving his mouth. “Yeah, we can try again-”
Spencer nods as he speaks cutting his own sentence short as he leans down to kiss you again, adding a little more pressure this time as he seemingly grows in confidence. The kiss remains chaste and short, and as he pulls away for the second time his eyes remain fixed on you, smiling alongside his mouth.
“Is it working now?” He laughs softly as he speaks, eyelashes gently fluttering as he places a kiss on the bridge of your nose, his fingers slowly sliding into your hair at your temples.
“I’m not sure yet…” You respond with a kiss of your own placed against the curve of his chin. “Maybe we should keep going…” You place another kiss right in the corner of his mouth, and Spencer sighs softly as it misses his lips by a hair. “For research purposes…”
He smiles lightly when you mention it being for ‘research’, and his voice grows even quieter as he speaks.
“Yeah… research purposes…”
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cursingtoji · 8 months
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I am back for more
31… BUT HEAR ME OUT 😩 I can’t pick between Suguru and Choso because they both fit it SOO well so you pick ☺️💕
𝕿𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖔𝖔 𝕬𝖗𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖙!𝕮𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖔
⊱ fem reader x heavily tattooed choso, porn with a plot, dirty talk, semi-public sex, fingering, a tongue piercing; The Clichés ™;
note: winter i remember us talking about tattoo artist choso and i went feral with it, geto is mentioned but he does not participate (yet? 👀)
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tattoo artist!Choso who is heavily tattooed mostly black and gray art. his fair skin contrasting with the dark ink on his arms and neck. black smudged eyeliner around his brown eyes make his look upon you feel a thousand times deeper
choso is a sight for sore eyes
he’s exactly the kind of guy you would expect to see working in a tattoo shop
when you go get a matching tattoo with your best friend is when you first see him, writing something down at the reception and not noticing you at first
his pretty face and deep eyes greet you both with a smile so pretty that makes you forget the name of your scheduled artist.
“matching tattoos…” he looks in a book as you hope him to be the artist, “ah here, Suguru!” he calls and a man with black hair tied in a bun comes to you and your friend.
“thank you” you smile getting a wink back from him.
suguru is very friendly, he asks your bestie questions about your friendship since she’s the first one to get inked while you look around the shop, more specifically at the art in frames hanging all around the walls.
one catches your eye: a traditional japanese dragon with some flowers and clouds around it.
you even get closer to take a better look at the intricate details
your friend has to tap your shoulder when shes done cause you completely spaced out thinking about that art on your body
suguru can’t help but notice how your eyes keeping swinging back to that piece on the art while he’s tattooing your forearm
“you know that was done by one of our guys” he says, “Choso. You met him in the reception” he points with his chin to the handsome man
“really? that’s so beautiful… was it done for a client or something like that?” you ask wanting to know if someone else already had that piece of art tattooed.
“no, not really. choso created that on his own” suguru smirks when sees you biting your lip “you know… that would look gorgeous on your back or thigh” you were already tempted without suguru pushing you
by the time your matching tattoo is done, suguru had already convinced you to come back and get the dragon on your thigh, since choso was nowhere to be seen, suguru himself scheduled your appointment with choso for next week.
“gotcha an appointment” suguru says finding choso on the break room
“oh yeah?”
“she’s gonna get the dragon with flowers that has been on the wall for months”
choso stops all he’s doing and looks at suguru with an empty expression
“i know i know, you’re afraid to tattoo it, client not liking and you ending up heart broken cause it’s your favourite drawing of yours…” choso delivered a light punch on his friend’s shoulder, “but come on, the girl was so cute and she really loved it”
it’s not like choso could just call you and say he wasn’t gonna do it so after another punch on suguru he returned to his station and followed his week until the day you returned to studio
saying you were anxious is an understatement
it would be a pretty large tattoo that you decided to get on your thigh, but the expectation to see choso again played a big part on your apprehensiveness
your artist is already at the reception talking to a younger guy you haven’t seen around the last time
you greet them both and say your there for your appointment, the younger one asks who your artist is
“she’s mine, come on sweetheart” he says so casually and leaves you trying to regulate your heartbeats
choso takes you upstairs to the corner of the room and tells you to get comfortable on the chair after you okayed the size of the stencil
“i need you to take it off or it’ll get stained with ink” he pointed to your shorts and closed the curtain, he stayed there but turned around pretending to organize the caps to give you some privacy
you wiggle out of the article and sat back on the chair with your black undies and nothing else under the waist, thankfully you chose a good one, when you’re comfortable choso approaches to rub some alcohol and place the stencil
as soon as you agree he begin to trace the patterns with you sitting on the partially reclined chair
“how we doing?” he looks up after half an hour, having finished part of the drawing
“i’m alright” you sigh
“strong girl, we can make a break in another hour, then i’ll have finished the flowers” he assures and go back to focusing on your thigh
having a gorgeous man so close to your crotch was having an effect on you that didn’t match the pain he was inflicting
of course it hurt but every time he gets too close to your skin and you feel his hot breathing fanning over the sore area you unconsciously press your thighs together
and choso is not stupid, of course he notices how aroused his cute client is, he has his hand on your inner thigh and whenever your reflexes kick and you try to close them he tights his grip on you to avoid you moving and screwing up his lines
“sure you’re okay?” he stops the machine to run vasiline on your skin very softly while looking in your eyes, you can’t find your voice to answer him “we can take a break now, maybe i can get you to relax a little” he doesn’t need to move his hand much to touch the covered lips of your pussy, when he does you whimper
“i can smell how wet you are, does pain turn you on that much?” he removes his hand to snap his glove out and touch the wet patch on your underwear with his bare fingers
you shake your head “no? what was it then? don’t tell me it’s me” he raises from his stool staring from above while you look back at him with doe eyes “aren’t you cute” he murmurs kissing your forehead and pushing your underwear aside to run his fingers on your wet folds a couple of times before pushing them in
“i need you to keep it down for me, can you do that?” he murmurs it so low you barely hear it due to the other voices on the other side of the curtain, you nod and starts to move his fingers skillfully
“naughty girl, booked a tattoo just to get your pussy played with tsk tsk” he adds a second finger keeping your clit under his thumb
“no! i really want it” you reply immediately not wanting him to think for a second you didn’t love his art
that seemed to be enough affirmation for choso, who leans taking your chin with his free hand, he stops right before your lips studying the little pout you have and how dilated your pupils are
he smirks and softly bites your bottom lip, which makes you yelp but he licks it apologetically
choso feels like eating you whole, the way you respond to him is mesmerizing
“c-choso i’m close” you grip his arm and he pushes his tongue in, swallong your moans cause the last thing he needs is one of his coworkers finding out about this
you didn’t notice at first due to his ministrations bellow your waist but he had a tongue piercing, the cold metal rolls between your tongues, a new exciting addition to an already great kiss
his thumb flicker your clit and you press your thighs around his hand climaxing hard and silently
“good girl” he pulls away taking a string of saliva, you rest your head on the chair recovering from your high, for a second your eyes close but soon open them again when you feel a tissue touch your sensitive core
“wait aren’t you— aren’t we—?” you look down to his bulge, he was clearly aroused too
“calm down lady, this is just the first session” he laughs and gently cleans you and the chair finishing up by placing your underwear back, “lemme finish this and if you don’t tap out or squirm i’ll reward you in the end” he winks before disappearing behind the curtains for a couple of minutes, you take the chance to look down at your skin
it was a bit swollen but you could see that the part he had inked already was perfect, the dragon was halfway done and you couldn’t wait to see it completed
when choso gets back he’s pleasurably surprised to find you looking at your leg with a smile in your face
“lemme see…” a few hours later you’re at the reception talking to the boy from before to schedule your return in order to color the rest of the tattoo, “choso is free next—“
“actually yuuji you can book her for this weekend” choso steps up, just walking down the stairs. moments before he told to check with yuuji while he cleaned his station
“you are not working this weekend” yuuji looks at him suspiciously
“i am now” choso emphasize by tapping his finger on the date at the planner
“hm okay” yuuji takes your information and you thank him before choso leads you out
“you’ll be working just for me?” you ask once you’re out
“yeah but you’ll buy us lunch after i’m done”
“done with the tattoo?”
“done with you” your eyes widen and you’re already excited for your date
“okay, I’ll pay, but…” you step closer to him but not too much so the people inside the shop don’t notice, “you’ll have to use your tongue”
“you liked that?” he rolls his tongue out displaying the shiny round metal, “fine i’ll show you what i can do with it next time”
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See also: “who did this to you?” + Sukuna
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