spice-chan

[spice-chan]

Crisis Averted - Part I [Genshin Spoilers 4.1.]

New Genshin Updates always make my thoughts go brrrr. So here’s a little something (with modified happenings to fit the story lol) of Wriothesley after he survived the encounter with the Primordial Sea!

Fandom: Genshin Impact Pairings: Yandere!Wriothesley x GN!Reader   Warnings: Yandere, Topics of death (Fear of death, Near-death experiences, Fear of loved ones dying), Reader got locked into a closet, Forced Relationship, Dub-Con touches, Long post

Heavy were his steps as he finally made his way back to his office. 

The stairs seemed to drag on endlessly after exerting more energy in a matter of minutes than Wriothesley had done in months—actually, years. He couldn’t even remember when he last needed to drain his vision for just one more blast of ice and then one more. Luckily, Clorinde was neither a talkative fellow nor in much better shape than he was after they both struggled to hold back the Primordial Sea from escaping. They were both tough and hard to take down in a fight, but even they had their bodily limits.

She left him on the floor beneath his office with a short nod, a few words exchanged out of courtesy and thankfulness. Then she was gone, and Wriothesley’s heavy boots continued their ascend, disregarding any weariness in his bones and the burning of his muscles. In a way, the Primordial Water was a prisoner of this place, and Wriothesley chuckled at his own thoughts as he came to this conclusion, exhaustion making everything sound a bit more funny in his head. However, despite knowing that the crisis was averted and the seemingly inescapable destruction and ruin had been contained like an unwilling prisoner of the Fortress of Meropide, he didn’t feel like he had succeeded in keeping death away from what he treasured.

Muffling the yawn ripping from his throat, how could he not be elated by the thought of returning to you, the feeling giving him back the pep in his step? Even after all that happened—and Wriothesley had thought of many, many ways this could have ended—you were both still here. Alive. 

Unless the ice had frozen you to the core by the time he reached you.

Keep reading

[spice-chan]

based on this post. i flipped a coin and it landed on dan heng. it was going to be dragon!dh but i thought this was better. top + gn!reader. major spoilers for the hsr main storyline. implicit nsfw 18+

wc ; 1.8k

There is no place for you in the Xianzhou Luofu.

You are a prisoner of war. A long life species. Once, long ago, you'd been taken in by Imbibitor Lunae for your unwavering strength. From a planet long destroyed, with no family nor honor - you'd pressed your forehead to the floor and begged for your life.

Your Master had laughed at the time. Head tilted and smiling, shining and brilliant. You can recall the image so well even now, so many years later.

In the prisons of the Xianzhou, a new lifeform was birthed. The splitting image of your master, but no more than their ghost. The reanimated being Imbibitor Lunae took the punishment of your Master - banished from the Xianzhou. And you, a soul with no ties, took it upon yourself to follow.

For starters, Dan Heng does not like when you call him with any honorifics like he is above you. Dan Heng prefers his name. If you are to speak to him at all, it must be with his name. He likes names, it seems. He gave you yours when you'd followed him far enough and realized you didn't have one.

Next, Dan Heng does not seem to like you very much. You don't think it's personal. As far as ghosts go, you are little more than a poltergeist of his past. The people on the Express regard you fondly, but Dan Heng always looks like he is in pain when his gaze touches you too long.

And last, Dan Heng is beautiful even when he is not in his other forms. Even when he is the Dan Heng of the Astral Express. Dan Heng without name or origin. When he is a little more like you, somehow - you think he is beautiful.

And despite the similarities, Dan Heng is nothing like your master. There are many ghosts in the Xianzhou, but the ghost of Dan Feng does not linger in Dan Heng. Dan Heng is colder. Smoother. At times gentler, too. You know little of reincarnation, but of this much you can be sure. And though your Master saved your life, by now you've spent more time with Dan Heng than you ever did with them.

You do not know much of love. There was someone once. Long, long ago.

And yet, this much you know - you think your heart flutters whenever you think of Dan Heng.

Often, you are forced to reconcile with the differences between your master and Dan Heng. Their tastes, from food to clothing, always stand out to you. It is their taste in adornments that you usually pay most attention to. It's not that Dan Feng was particularly

But Dan Heng often wears jewelry so thin you can hardly see it. It's hard to describe how much it effects you, other than saying that it does. Other than saying you're always the first to notice the changes. He wears the connected tassel and ribbon only when he's leaving the ship. If someone is to gift him jewelry for any reason, he will always wear at least once.

You are forced to recognize the little details of Dan Heng when you notice these adornments. Forced to picture them in your fantasies in which you are able to put him to bed. Often on the floor of the archives, you wonder about the thin swishes of silver.

He wears a necklace underneath the high collar of his shirt. It's a gift from March 7th. A blue moon on a thin silver chain that sits perfectly in the middle of his sternum, trapped against his chest. Sometimes, when he puts on the clothes he has for sleep - you catch a glimpse of it. The starlight pouring through the windows make it shine.

His neck is thin, you think. Something about it is fragile. What would happen to such a material if you were to reach out and touch it.

(What would happen to Dan Heng if your hand tightened around it. Would his skin finally feel flush? Warm to your fingers, contrasting to the cool tones? )

There are bracelets too. Several. Some less formal, more gifts from March. One from Mr. Yang - this time it is gold. Gold, a braided chain - but delicate all the same. This one he takes off often. Only for special events. The curve of his wrist bewitches you. You think the bend of it must be pretty as a picture.

(You think of the indentation it might leave on your spine, had he let you have his way with him, The sound of his voice in your ear, pitchy and high - enough that the pain of being imprinted wouldn't faze you at all.

How good he would feel with his arms around your shoulders and your hands on his hips, bracing for dear life.)

Dan Heng says he doesn't wear rings often.

"They'll tear the pages in the archives if I'm not careful."

But he does own them. He buys them for himself usually, at the market. They're all of the same type. Bands of fine metals that are practical. Silver with aquamarine and amethyst. Gold with quartz and opal. He's not the type to spend so heavily on excess - so there are few. Accumulated after years and years, but untouched by time.

You wonder, if there's any particular reason he keeps them. You aren't sure there is. But he likes them, all the same. Rings are important in your culture. Different ones for different occasion. You think it is too much of a pipedream to hope he thinks of you as he buys them.

(You think of him wearing rings more often than not. It fills you with homesickness. The slender of his fingers with the jewels you've given him. A tradition from your homeland. Something about Dan Heng incites the desire to spoil, adoration bloomed from something much more potent than subservience.

He's beautiful always, but how beautiful would he be underneath you? Black hair and thin features. Delicate and ethereal, otherworldly. His hands covering his expression, painted in pink. Pink cheeks and hot pink mouth, bitten and swollen to hell.

The shine of the things you've given him, all over. You are dying to know lately, if it's possible to make a perfect thing more beautiful)

Last, there is your favorite thing to gift him. Anklets. From the beginning, you're unsure of where the compulsion came from. Even before you ended up in this state - you thought it would suit him. A chain around the ankle, with trinkets. Something more playful than elegant, but suited to Dan Heng all the same.

Recently, Dan Heng parades around the express in his dragon form often enough. The secret is out, so it's pointless in more ways than one to always maintain it. Though he prefers his other form, it is less energy to maintain this one. So he does.

Imbibitor Lunae is seated on the edge of your bed wearing your anklet, and you think the part of you that tries not to get too close might die soon.

You blink once, then again to assure you've not got mad.

"You're wearing it,"

Dan Heng gives you a momentary blank stare before flushing down to his neck.

"You noticed." Comes his reply, curt and deflective. Normally, you'd meet him tit for tat. Match his sarcasm to yours, but the words die as you inch closer to the edge of the bed. He doesn't back away.

"You're...wearing it. Why?"

He doesn't say anything to this. Just flushes and sighs like he's somehow above answering. You think it's endearing. You stand, sit on the edge of the bed and stare. You feel something in you start to crack.

Yes, lately - it is harder and harder to pretend that you do not look at Dan Heng and long.

"Dan Heng," You say, slowly and clearly "I want to touch you."

This makes him look like he'll keel over. There's some words forming in his mouth, something meant to scold you. When your eyes meet the words seem to die. Maybe he can tell you're serious. They're blue and wide and ethereal, stunned into shocked silence.

Your hand rests on his ankle. He doesn't move as you turn to look at it, pressing it against your thumb. You think a single hand around the bend of it, from thumb to ring finger could fit it. A being so powerful not much thicker than grass blades. Pale like milk pouring over honey.

"Since when?" Is his next question. He looks troubled.

"Since as long as we've been aboard the express."

You move towards the end of the bed and Dan Heng makes room for where you sit. You place your hand against clothed calf, planing up until his knee and resting there. He frowns.

"Did you not long for your Master?"

"No," You say firm, getting on your knees and leaning up. Dan Heng stumbles back against the pillows that hold him up. He falls to them as you hover over them and suddenly you're so close. "Only you,"

You take a piece of his hair, long and silky, kissing it as tenderly as you can. From this angle he flushes. Adorned and beautiful, with the same necklace and dainty hooped earrings. The little details that make up all of his idiosyncrasies.

"Only me." He repeats, soft and low and cute. Yes, there is only Dan Heng. You're sure your master could never make a face like this. He looks up at you a little stunned, into quiet silence that doesn't reach you.

"Why did you wear it?" You lean in his. His breath is warm with mint.

"I'm sure you're clever enough to figure that out."

You put your hands on his waist, inching up against the fabric. Your noses touch.

"I want to hear you say it," You reply to him, a little closer - brushing against his lips. He makes a face at you "Or else it will feel too much like a dream."

Your knee presses against the place between his legs but Dan Heng makes no moves to stop you.

"I wore it for you to notice. I didn't think you really would."

You laugh softly.

"I always notice. I'm always looking at you. Just you. It has been that way for a long time now."

He closes his eyes and laughs with you.

"I suppose it has."

You kiss him like this. Slow and tender and gentle, a soft sensation that builds itself to one of lust. You try not to devour Dan Heng, but it grows impossible. How could you turn away from him like this? Ripe like something waiting to be plucked, eaten whole even when taken apart slowly. You dip your tongue into Dan Hengs mouth, licking the fangs but never cutting yourself on their sharp edges.

Something stirs in you, something hard pressed against your stomach. You laugh a little.

"Dan Heng," You say again, teeth scrapping his jaw "I want to look at you a little closer."

He breathes you in. His hand reaches for yours, feeling for your ring finger.

"Nothing is stopping you."

[spice-chan]

alhaitham x mermaid! reader (3.5)

⤀ cw: afab!reader, first time (w. him), lots of teasing, cunnilingus, praise, fingering, unprotected sex, lil bit of size kink + overstim, creampie, fluff???, true love but they don't know it yet — mdni || ꒰ 6.2k wc ꒱ a/n: recommended to read the previous part first, but it can stand alone as well ! hope u enjoy my smut debut + reblogs & feedback are always vry much appreciated ♡ prev ⋘ pt 3.5 ⋙ next ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓇼

When you had taken him up on his half conscious, pseudo challenge to visit Sumeru City, Alhaitham never imagined you’d cause him so much trouble. It’s not in the sense that you’d drawn too much unwanted attention, or that you’d spent his mora on frivolous things. No, it was your lack of understanding for the human notions of shame and intimacy. 

He’s never entirely sure of just how nuanced the unabashed things you say and do are. You’re shameless whenever you’d ask him for compliments point-blank, or when you’d waltz out of the bathroom only half-dressed in his clothes. Other times, you’d surprise him with words so naively honest, brush against him in ways that feel far too tender.

To his dismay, it’s becoming increasingly clear that your actions always come with a price—one that he pays, not with mora, but with his dignity. Much like the smooth caress of the waters you came from, it’s all seemingly harmless, but the depths of your intentions remain aggravatingly unknown. Especially when your very presence is enough to enfold all his senses in a lull of desire.

He runs a hand through his hair before turning the knob of his bedroom door, only to find you in your human form, lounging on his bed, lazily flipping through one of his books. The robe you wear is one of his; too large on your frame, with the silky material falling off your shoulders, dangerously close to revealing too much. 

Not that it isn’t a welcome sight—he is a man after all. And while he prides himself on his exceptional self control, it becomes an issue when he feels himself grow hot and the loose clothes he likes to wear at home begins to feel too tight. He can’t rub one out while you’re here, so perhaps a cold shower might ease his condition…

But you’re more perceptive than he’s given you credit for.

“It’s not as magnificent as my tail, but this body is still quite impressive isn’t it?” 

“I’ve never met anyone as shameless as you.”

…

“Well, I don’t think you’ve ever met anyone like me at all.” You flash him an amused smile, but the sultry look in your eyes relay a different message entirely. He can’t lie, it excites him.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he mumbles under his breath. To his chagrin, your curious hum cuts through the room and he hears the heavy thud of a book slammed shut.

Of course you heard him. With renewed interest, you swing your legs over the edge of his bed, sauntering over until you’re close enough that he can smell the faint scent of his mint shampoo in your hair. 

“Oh? What could I possibly be doing to you?” Your fingers walk up his body, slowly, from his toned stomach to his chiseled chest, leaving his skin hot through the fabric of his clothes, “Won’t you enlighten me?” 

You look up, that wide-eyed gaze of feigned innocence flickering into something sharp and dangerously seductive. A hand settles on his shoulder, pulling him in until you’re close enough that your lips are only a hair’s breadth away from his sensitive ears. The other reaches down and ghosts against his obviously growing bulge, before pressing down, palming him through his pants. Alhaitham bites back a groan. 

“Or rather, what would you like to do to me?” Your voice rings low and smooth as silk to his ears. It leaves a wave of desire to bubble in the pit of his stomach, one that doubles down on the dull ache at his crotch.

His mind sifts through a thousand thoughts. Lascivious thoughts, sinful, perverted thoughts that only seem to make their presence known when in your company. Just one glance down at you and he can see how ridiculously easy it would be to untie the lazy knot that’s hardly holding your—no—his robe together. 

“I…” 

It’s hard to think when you overwhelm all his senses, poking at the urges he has so carefully suppressed up until now. His robe, his scent. He’s no fool to the way Sumeru City ogles at you—the mysterious stranger who’s able to so casually hang onto the aloof scribe’s arm. It only makes him want to stake his claim across the empty canvas of your skin as well: his mermaid. Perhaps just this once, he’ll let himself indulge in his own selfish desires. 

“Come on, Scribe Alhaitham,” you emphasize,“use your words.” 

A smug smile forms on your face as you calculate the risks of your next words. 

“Although…if you’ve got nothing to say, why don’t you just show me,” you press close, voice deceptively soft. “I’m more of a hands-on learner anyway.”

For once, Alhaitham lets his body override all sense of rationality, flipping your positions, and pinning you against the wall as he captures your mouth in his. It’s uncharacteristically sloppy and haphazard, with none of the craftiness he displayed on that first and only night you kissed, but it’s intoxicating all the same.

His teeth graze against your bottom lip, demanding entrance, and you’re forced to grasp onto his toned bicep to keep yourself steady as you devour each other with the intensity of all your repressed thoughts. With every second his mouth remains slotted on yours, with every inhale and exhale of breath you exchange, you think that this time, you’re the one who might drown.

He finally tosses you a lifeline once he decides to leave the vicinity of your mouth, and begin his campaign across the rest of your body, starting with the little spot right along the underside of your jaw. Alhaitham takes his time trailing down your neck, catching you off guard when he stops to suck down, hard, on a particularly sensitive patch of skin.

An involuntary gasp escapes, and you can feel him smirk against you, though it quickly fades into a half strangled groan when your hips roll into his. He only continues downward from here, carving kisses into your body and leaving behind colorful little bruises that send liquid fire running through your veins. The further he goes, the more he must uncover, and the only thing standing in his way is the robe you’re hardly wearing.

“Can I…?” he asks in a hoarse whisper, fingers already toying with the sash. 

“Not like you haven’t seen everything already,” you mutter, pulling his face in to kiss him again. 

His free hand snakes down to squeeze your ass while the other tugs on the loose knot, the silky material now free to tumble down your body like a waterfall, hitting every curve along the way. In one fell swoop, Alhaitham takes you to his bed, picking up right where he left off: with a depraved kiss that speaks more than he ever could in relaying the underlying lust that clouds his mind.

“Beautiful.” The word slips out without a second thought. It’s the first time he's ever said it outright. Beneath the fervor, there’s a special sentiment that cushions his tone. It has you buzzing with warmth from the inside out, but whether it’s contentment or embarrassment, you don’t know. Biting your lip, you turn your head to the side, refusing to meet his gaze. 

He finds it infinitely amusing that for all your openly brazen flirtations…

“You’re not getting shy on me now, are you?” 

You respond by stubbornly grappling at the edge of his shirt, nails grazing against his muscled abdomen in the process. The startling sensation crackles through his nerves, sending his cockhead twitching in delight. 

“It’s only fair I get to see you too,” you mumble, in what little time you have between kisses. Alhaitham pulls away, a brow quirked in mild amusement. Pausing, he takes this chance to drink in the sight of your naked figure for the second time, though tonight there’s no need to look away. 

It’s exhilaratingly surreal to see your body marked by the undeniable testaments of his touch. It manifests on your skin, where you’re decorated with clusters of little bruises signed by his lips. In your chest, as it heaves for air after all the breaths he’s stolen from right out of your lungs. It persists in the way your eyes draw him in, inviting him, daring him to do more. In how your lips, though slightly swollen, wear the same coquettish grin that’s enchanted him time and again. With no other choice but to surrender to your demands, Alhaitham lifts his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side without a care.

You’ve always thought the man to be handsome, but you’re left wonderstruck as your eyes wander across his bare skin. It’s not like his usual attire leaves much to the imagination, but Alhaitham undressed, is still a sight to see. His toned chest and sculpted stomach, well defined arms… Chiseled by the gods themselves, you think as the corner of your lips quirk just the slightest bit upwards. 

“Enjoying the view?” It’s funny how much his smug smile contrasts with the mottled pink that colors his shoulders and dusts across his cheeks. His skin only flushes more when you trace a finger over the gem on his chest, tantalizingly slow as you make your way down his sternum, and only stopping to lightly flick at one of his nipples. Alhaitham’s breath hitches and you can practically see his muscles as they tense.  

 “Very much,” you answer, hands sinking lower. “So won’t you show me more?”

He catches you by your wrist when he feels you tugging at his waistband, and it takes everything for him to ignore the wanton desperation that’s quickly clouding his mind. It’s difficult, but out of sheer will, he manages to hold back, if only by a thread. 

Gently, he pulls your chin up to face him. Want hides beneath his teal gaze, but there’s a softness that truly shines through, encapsulating the delicate balance between risk and reward.

His hands shift to caress your cheek, before he moves in to steal another kiss. This time it’s sweeter, more chaste. Alhaitham kisses you slow and passionate, interwoven with a tenderness that causes your heart to swell in your chest.

“You sure you want to do this?”

Your resounding ‘yes’ breathes a renewed ardor into his actions as he lowers you onto your back. Little by little, he makes his way down your body, leaving wet kisses everywhere except where you want him most. A kiss here, a lick there—the heat that pools in your belly only grows by the second, but a harsh suck right below your hip causes your breath to hitch and your cunt to drool more in response while you whine and attempt to rub your legs together for any sort of friction.

They are, however, aptly spread back apart when he hooks his arms beneath your thighs and pulls you closer to where he kneels at the edge of the bed. 

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs, “and we’ve only just begun.” Alhaitham lets out a low chuckle as he presses another kiss to your inner thigh. It’s enough to have you shivering in anticipation, the reverberating tremors of his deep voice going straight to your pulsing hole, wet with the slick of your arousal. One of his hands moves to hold you down as you jolt when his teeth graze against the delicate skin.

“Will you please just hurry up,” you’re barely able to get all your words out before your voice breaks into a breathless gasp as he takes you by surprise, dipping his head down to lick a long stripe up your glistening folds and flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue once he reaches the top. 

Talented in more ways than just words, you find out firsthand exactly how good he is with his tongue. Like a man starved, he laps up all you have to give, while your gushing hole happily churns out more slick. But it isn’t nearly enough. Especially not with the way you’re grinding into his face and singing praises to his name.  

Alhaitham doesn’t consider himself an arrogant man, but he’s never loved hearing the sound of his own name more. It falls through your lips in a trail of whimpers, your pretty little cries music to his ears, delicate and lyrical. His tongue prods at your entrance, occasionally dipping into your warmth, and as he closes in, his nose bumps against your puffy clit. It has you keening, and your hands come flying to tangle in his ashen hair as your voice splits into a sharp gasp. 

He takes a mental note of your reaction before moving to suckle on the sensitive bundle of nerves, drawing out another beautifully broken sob. With every exhale, and every swipe of his tongue, Alhaitham breathes life into your cunt—leaving it to drip with arousal and clench around nothing. Your fingers curl in his tresses and you tug hard. The low groan he emits reverberates through your body; the rumbling vibrations of his own pleasure sends you crawling to your high. 

But he soon pulls away and you’re quick to let out a pitched cry in protest. He peers up from between your parted thighs, sharp eyes hungrily taking in the sight of you squirming at the loss of contact. 

“Haitham,” you whine pitifully, hips blindly stuttering in search of his touch, “don’t stop.” 

Oh how the tables have turned. Before him, your tiny hole clamps around nothing and a sly grin creeps onto his face, devilishly handsome and glistening with your essence that so freely drips down his chin. You’ve teased him relentlessly during the span of your partnership, and as per your logic, it’s only fair he gets to do the same.

“Beg for it,” he purrs. His warm breath fans across your folds, sending you into a frenzied fluster from the bottom up, and you feel as if you’re going to melt.

“P-please…” It’s difficult to come up with any words, much less the right words, to say when the overwhelmingly wanton desire for him to just touch you again, has your brain enveloped in a thick haze. “Need you…Haitham please…”

His name, entangled within the sweet pleas that fall from your lips, has his cock twitching again, eager to be freed from the constraints of his pants. But if he can ignore the wet spot forming from his own precum, then he can do the same to the way his hips seem to move on their own, slowly rutting against the bed. He’s a patient man, he can wait. You on the other hand… 

You’re so needy for him, so lost trying to chase your own pleasure, that it doesn’t even register when he wets two fingers in his mouth, unable to process anything until you feel the faint stretch in your cunt that has you trembling in anticipation. His fingers slide easily into your creamy insides, and he only watches in amusement at the way your hips buck, silently begging him for something more than the painfully slow, lazy way he’s pumping in and out of you. 

“You’re already so tight...” He lets out a breathy chuckle as he scissors you open, resisting the way your velvety walls come down, hugging every inch of the digits inside you. “How are you even going to take me, hm?” 

You open your mouth to respond but nothing ever comes out, save for the faint breath of a moan that manages to escape. If you were in the right state of mind, you would’ve been sure to fire back something smart, however, your thoughts have been reduced to fixate on Alhaitham, who’s rather keen on keeping it that way.

He moves his wrist, twisting and turning, relentlessly searching until the pads of his fingers press against a spot just right, that it has your toes curling and back arching off the bed in a loud cry. He curls his fingers, bullying the spongy spot until echoes of your melodic mewls are undeniably present amongst the lewd squelching of your wetness. It sends him reeling and growing impossibly harder—oh how he so adores the way you unravel before him. 

Your body runs hotter than ever and you feel the coil in your belly tighten, ready to snap. You’re going to cum. You’re so close. Just a little more. It repeats like a mantra in your head, but your impending climax dissipates as he draws both fingers back out, leaving you dangling at the precipice with a distressed wail, frustration pathetically painted across your face.

Why did he just do that? Your eyes are large and laced with tears that quiver and threaten to spill down your face. Ignoring your futile attempt at garnering pity, Alhaitham only continues to taunt you.

“Will you look at that?” he says, toying with the messy slick that glosses over his middle and index fingers like webbing, stretching and breaking along to the movements of his hand. It’s such damning evidence of how much you need him, but it’s also somehow mesmerizing, so much so that you’re unable to look away. It doesn’t help that your sopping cunt only weeps more at the sight, absentmindedly fluttering around nothing.

He drags you out of your thoughts as he unexpectedly takes your clit back into his mouth. His hot tongue swirls around your bud, effectively setting your veins on fire, then takes the chance to throw your earlier words back at you. 

“Tell me what you’d like me to do,” he says, mouth never leaving the little nub.

You want him to make you cum, is what you want to say—or rather, you want him to let you cum, considering how he so cruelly ruined your earlier orgasm. But it all only translates into a litany of unintelligible whimpers, and Alhaitham smiles, the mischief twinkling in his eyes now glaringly apparent. He can’t help how endearing it is, that you, who always has so much to say, is now struggling to answer even the simplest of questions.

“Use your words. I want to hear that pretty voice of yours.”

“I want… I need…” you’re only able to make out a few words in between your ragged breaths before you’re interrupted by your own broken sob as he sucks down hard on your abused clit.

“Hm? What was that?” 

“Want to cum… ” you choke out, eyes sliding shut as you try again with your best efforts.

The latter half of your sentence warps until it rises an octave and melts into a shaky moan. Alhaitham barely gives you just enough time to finish before three lithe fingers find their way into your cunt without warning, slipping past your wet folds with ease. The dull pain of an added finger stuffed into your tiny hole, has you keening, your own knuckles turning white from your steel grip on the bed sheets. 

With a sweep of his tongue, he laves over your swollen clit again, sending shivers through to your core as you feel the tension return in your abdomen, this time wound even tighter from the way he continues to fuck your already sensitive cunt.

“ ‘m so close�� please,” your breath catches in your throat as you whimper and squirm. “Please Haitham, please-” 

It’s beyond his own belief how he managed to wrangle you into his bed; the beautiful mermaid who had first tried to drown him, who was always so outspoken and bold— now reduced to a begging, whimpering mess on his sheets. For that, he mentally pats himself on the back and decides to take pity on you. 

“Come on, mermaid. Let me hear you sing.” 

Immediately, you feel his fingers curl, right up against the very spot that has you seeing stars, exactly as he had intended. He drags his teeth carefully, lightly grazing your swollen clit, effectively ripping out a loud, visceral scream as you finally tip over the edge in an earth shattering orgasm. 

Waves of pleasure continue to wash over you as Alhaitham finger fucks you through your high,  vigilantly hitting that sweet, spongy spot over and over again without mercy. You’re left quivering, fingers desperately grasping at the bed sheets, trying to find something, anything to hold on to. His hand, the one that isn’t three knuckles deep inside you, moves to hold your hips down as they twitch in the settling overstimulation. 

A satisfied hum rumbles in the back of his throat as he finishes off with an easy kiss to your inner thigh. He finally slows down his movements as you ride out your high, though the shallow, wet noises as he rocks his fingers in and out of you, seem all the more erotic against the backdrop of your dissipating cries. 

“Can’t get enough of you,” he coos. “Such a pretty thing—so gorgeous when you cum for me.” Alhaitham continues to whisper sweet flatteries that have you preening until he feels you clench weakly around his fingers once more. He raises a brow, the beginnings of a small smirk forming on his face.

“Of course you like to be praised.” Despite the lilt in his voice, he draws his soiled digits out with care, though you still shudder as he passes through your sensitive folds.

“Shut up.” 

Even as you sit up to catch your breath, your eyes wander over to the man’s bare upper body, before they drift down to the impressive tent bulging from his pants. Suddenly, you’re made painfully aware of how utterly empty you are. Arousal pulses through you, once again dripping out of your cunt at the thought of being stuffed full.  

Your obvious staring doesn’t go unnoticed; and neither does the way you shift as you’re rubbing your thighs together for more friction. Your shamelessly perverse act only reinforces the thrum in his already rock hard cock.

“Open up.” You do as you’re told, intuitively wrapping your lips around his long fingers, cheeks hollowing as you clean off the mess you had left. It spurs him on, the way you hold his gaze with those large doe eyes, blinking so lasciviously when he draws them back out, leaving behind a trail of saliva that snaps like gossamer on your lips.

“What, haven’t had enough of me yet?” He teases you, yet the slight waver in his voice as he struggles to mask just how much he’d like to cum right then and there, says otherwise. 

“Not nearly enough.” 

Your playful wit is nothing new to him. And while Alhaitham considers himself to be quite well versed in how you love to play coy, an expert in navigating around your flirtations—he’s far from immune to your coquettish displays. He’s only human after all… 

So it’s no fault of his own that you drive him absolutely insane.

Pupils blown wide and dilated with lust, he dips down until you can feel his hot breath on the shell of your ear, “I hope you don’t regret that.” His smooth baritone sends a shiver down your spine until it pools between your already sticky thighs, a vague promise of what’s to come.

Before you know it, he catches you in another eager kiss, rough and hopelessly greedy, as you fall back onto the mattress without a care. It only heightens your sense of urgency that he can’t help but grind into you.

His normal attire barely hides his bulge, but even underneath these loose clothes, the outline of his cock stands tall and unmistakably erect against the fabric—which you desperately need removed now, as you fumble with the waistband. Alhaitham chuckles lightly into the kiss before pulling away. Message received. 

He moves quickly, pants and underwear hastily thrown to the side and forgotten, because how could you possibly think of anything else when he stands before you, hands fisted around his magnificent cock, grunting at the little ounce of relief as he gives himself a few quick pumps. Precum dribbles from the flushed pink tip and your eyes follow as he spreads it along the impressive length. You can’t help but think that it’s… pretty. And oh how you adore pretty things.

He lines himself up at your entrance, cockhead just barely dipping inside as he hovers over you, and for the first time tonight, you realize just how incredibly vulnerable you are now, laid bare before him, ripe for the taking. But it’s okay if it’s him. Whether it’s the fuzziness mulling in your head, or your cunt that’s thinking for you, anything is fine as long as it’s Alhaitham.   

Above you, he swallows harshly and you can see the slow bob of his throat as he does so. “Tell me if you need to stop,” he murmurs. The rasp in his voice makes it apparent that it’s taking every ounce of fortitude not to just slam his entire length into you. 

The first hiccupped gasp that escapes your lips has him smiling smugly as he pushes in, splitting you open with ease from how wet you are. But the stretch as you struggle to accommodate his girth burns despite your previous preparation; he’s just so much bigger than his fingers. Inch by agonizing inch, he stretches you wider, whispering sweet nothings while he stuffs you full of his cock. 

“You’re doing so well,” he praises, though it’s quickly drowned out by the sound of your heart beating in your ears. Every time you think he’s done, he only continues to push further inside. Your head spins at how full you already feel, unconsciously tightening around him and drawing out a choked curse that rolls tactlessly off his tongue. There’s no helping the way his self control fades when you’re squeezing him like that, your needy cunt intent on sucking him all the way in. 

“Fuck,” he rasps. It’s foreign and depraved and so vulgar compared to his usually eloquent speech—not that it isn't also incredibly attractive hearing him lose his composure like that—but it’s even more so especially because you’re the one making him feel this good. Your heart flutters at the thought and the vibrations of another muffled grunt ripple against your skin when you reflexively bear down again.

Alhaitham bottoms out in one final push, sending you reeling at how the thickest end of his shaft forces your little hole to stretch even wider to accommodate the width. A hitched cry leaves your throat and your arms fly to wrap around his neck, pulling him close as he presses soothing kisses along your jaw, though it does little to quell the heat rapidly igniting throughout your body.

“Are you alright?” There isn’t an ounce of teasing in his tone when he pauses to glance down, giving you a moment to adjust while ensuring you’re okay. 

Your hum of approval is all he needs to start moving in languid strokes that fill you to the brim, his shallow thrusts so lewdly squelching to the tune of your wetness. Each slow drag of his cock forces you to feel very ridge and vein as he grinds back and forth, pulling soft mewls out of you until they melt into breathless whines pleading for something more.

“Faster… f-faster please.” 

Who was he to deny you, when you’ve been taking him so well? Sliding ever so slowly, Alhaitham all but pulls out, leaving only the very tip of his cock to kiss your entrance. You don’t even have time to process the jarring emptiness before he slams his entire length back in with a single thrust, powerful enough to send your entire body jostling from the impact. Your back arches in pleasure, your head thrown back in a silent scream as your mouth falls agape, the sound dying before it’s ever able to leave your throat. 

Alhaitham is relentless when he starts fucking you in earnest. The gentleness from earlier is gone, replaced by the callous way he repeatedly pounds into you, burying himself to the hilt every single time. He’s hitting depths you never thought possible, with each thrust sending shockwaves that ripple through you until it scrambles your mind, shattering that last piece of lucidity stubbornly holding you together.

“That’s it. Take it, just like that,” he coos, but you're too fogged over to comprehend his words. It’s clear your mind is currently occupied by other matters; matters such as the chant of his name atop your long string of strangled cries.

He revels at how pliant you are underneath him—so stimulated and keening out in pleasure at everything he does, greedy cunt eagerly swallowing every inch he offers, pulling him in with every snap of his hips. 

His mouth latches onto one of your nipples, sucking on the nub while he twirls the other between his fingers, groaning when your nails dig into his shoulders, imprinting crescents onto his skin. The added stimulation elicits another set of frantic whimpers, and the familiar tightness in your abdomen returns.

“Haitham I’m… I’m so…” Close, he deducts. He can tell by the way your walls close around him.

Half of him wants to watch you struggle with your words in between all your panting and moaning, wants to withhold your sweet release until you can speak properly while he continues to piston in and out of you. The other half, driven by his wanton throbbing, slides a hand over the curve of your ass, lifting your leg to angle himself just right before plunging deep inside you, hitting that same spot from before that had you seeing stars. 

Loud, broken sobs tear through the room as his tip mercilessly drills into the spongy spot with pinpoint precision. Your nails rake down his back, and a sharp hiss manages to escape from his lips. It only fuels him more, makes his movements more erratic. Over and over, hit after hit, Alhaitham delivers an exhilarating pleasure that drives you to the edge of delirium. Warmth blooms in the pit of your stomach threatening to spill over and seep into every crevice of your being. 

It’s too much. It’s so good. It’s not enough. You’re not sure how much more of this you can take. 

“I can feel you falling apart around me.” The corners of his mouth lift in a smug grin, ignoring the fact that his voice comes out in ragged huffs, uneven from his labored breathing.

There’s no use denying how much you affect him as well— not when fire licks his body, coloring his pale skin flush. Nor when his expression is clearly strained, trying so desperately to hold on to his crumbling composure. You’d notice if you still had the capacity to process anything at all, but alas…

He lowers his head into the crook of your neck, nipping lightly at the tender skin before switching to your native tongue. “C’mon my beautiful mermaid… give it to me. Cum for me.”

The white hot bliss that sweeps across your body is maddening and it leaves you absolutely shattered. The vibrato in your voice cracks as you scream and sob, body going impossibly taut. You’re desperately gasping for air, drowning in the waves of euphoria that wash over you, but it pulls you in and drags you further down into delirium. You can’t think, you can’t speak. You can’t stop the trembling in your thighs and you can’t stop your cunt from spasming as he continues to fuck into you.

His pace slows but his strokes are longer and deeper, as if he’s trying to ingrain himself permanently within your walls. Your moans rise in pitch, turning to whimpers when his thrusts continue past your orgasm and into the settling overstimulation, his cock still taking from you where there’s no more to take.

You’ve never felt more like a paradox than you do now. Your head is the clouds, while your body feels heavier than ever. You’re painfully sensitive, squirming to get away as he chases his own release, yet your cunt still pulses and begs to milk his fat cock dry.

Weak arms reach up to cup his face, pulling him in for a lasting kiss, breathing him in like the air you so desperately need in your lungs. When you pull away, your eyes are so dazed and lidded, not yet recovered from the intensity of your orgasm, but already prickling with tears from the burn of overstimulation. 

“Make me yours.”

Alhaitham buries his head in the crook of your neck; there’s no hope of keeping up his composure now. In fact, it’s a wonder he didn’t come from those words alone. You already are, he tells himself. There’s nobody else he could ever want; nobody else could ever compare to how perfect you are for him. 

With a few final thrusts, he presses his weight into you and sinks his cock as deep as he can. He lets out a tattered moan and his hips stutter as he follows you over the edge, the warmth of his hot cum spilling into your insides. 

A fleeting thought crosses your mind: Maybe you want to stay like this forever. So warm and tingly and speared open in all consuming pleasure. 

His body slumps against yours, relaxed and utterly at peace. In the numbing midst of his high, Alhaitham’s mind is for once, a couple beats slower than his palpitating heart.

“I love you.” 

He wasn’t thinking when it had slipped out of his mouth. The words came so naturally, rolled off his tongue so easily. It’s too late by the time he realizes just what he’s said; he hopes to god you didn’t hear him, but it’s the only thing you catch amongst all the white noise. He loves you. Alhaitham loves you. 

It replays on a loop inside your head but your jumbled mess of a brain can only process so much right now. “Love… you…” you barely manage to scrape out. He quiets your empty babbles with another kiss, muffling your whines as he gently—though reluctantly—pulls out of your embrace. You shudder and whine at the loss.

“Easy now,” he soothes, distracting you with praises and soft pecks to your temples. To you, the emptiness in your cunt feels all too foreign, but he can’t help but stare at the lecherous sight of your combined fluids dripping out of your hole. He can already picture it in his head; the wet noise of your slick and his cum, all shoved back into you so that not a single drop is wasted…

Alhaitham shakes the thought from his head, forcibly tearing his eyes away before his own mind can betray him. He excuses himself before soon returning with a glass of water and a warm, wet towel in hand.

Slowly but surely, your lungs steady, and the fog dissipates, and you’re finally able to anchor yourself back to reality. A reality where your throat is dry, hoarse from all the retrospectively embarrassing sounds he had dragged out of you, and your limbs feel so heavy, as if your bones have all but dissolved into jelly.

“Gonna clean you up, okay?” 

With your permission, he helps sit you up, passing you the glass of water before he begins wiping off the excess fluid between your legs. The towel is rough against the still sensitive skin of your inner thighs, making you jolt. Immediately, he utters an awkward apology, looking up to gauge your reaction. 

Water, split from the sudden movement, drips down your chin. Loose pieces of hair stick to your forehead; the thin sheen of sweat that coats your skin makes sure of that. To look so disheveled yet so gorgeous at the same time… you’re absolutely enchanting in the afterglow. A flicker of pride rushes through him—he did that. The proof was in the bites and bruises littered across your skin. He smiles, sheer adoration present in his eyes. 

Your soft giggle breaks his train of thought. “What are you—” A yawn. “What are you looking at?” The chirp in your tone peaks just the tiniest bit out of your sleep-laden voice, but you’re too worn out to wait for an answer, opting to fall back onto the mattress instead. It’s not long before you fully yield to the exhaustion.

You look so peaceful in your sleep, so human, that he almost forgets you’re not. Still, he wonders how it would feel to hold you in his arms as he sleeps. To wake up beside you and watch as the sunlight illuminates your features.

Would it be selfish of him to indulge just a little more?

Tossing the towel aside, he joins you under the safety of his covers. He wraps an arm around your frame, pulling you close, holding you right next to where his heart beats in his chest. Alhaitham presses a soft, last kiss to the top of your head before he too, drifts off to sleep. 

When morning comes and the golden sun arises, everything will return as it was. Dreams and other such wishful delights are of the moon’s sovereignty, so tonight, let him hold on to this reverie for just a little while longer.

a/n2: This was my very first smut piece so I hope you enjoyed :’) Since this is an extra chapter, I tried not to include any details that would drive the plot too much, but ending it with just a tiny bit of angst to transition to the next part. thank u for reading ! ♡

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[spice-chan]

Your Form parted from my Sober Mind

Alhaitham x fem!reader

Summary: Alhaitham was not an idealist, but he would fight tooth and nail for his ideals. A soulmate, in particular, conflicts with them.

word count: 10k

tags/warnings: soulmate au. this is dark. dead dove do not eat. rejection. mentions of murder. implications/implied of suicide. there's death in this fic (I'm trying not to spoil things here). Many different narrative styles, but it's all mainly from Alhaitham's POV. kind of mutual pining? mention of marriage. dreams are a reoccurring motif. implied sex, not too explicit but the act is described in enough detail

authors note: I came back from the dead...and made Frankenstein's monster.

“Then from his closing eyes thy form shall part,

And the last pang shall tear thee from his heart,” 

Alexander Pope, Elegy to The Memory of An Unfortunate Lady.

While everyone succumbs to a paradigm, that soulmarked people are irrevocably tied to one person, they are neglecting to consider alternatives. This consensus is harming the growth of Academia, and stunting further discoveries. Conducting further research on the phenomenon of soulmates is near impossible, because participation is scarce, as soulmarked people are very complacent, willing to take a backseat in their own future. I, as a soulmarked person, refuse to believe that some supreme deity is more aware of my own preferences and needs than I. In time, I shall prove that, and rewrite the way people view soulmates as we know it. 

-Alhaitham

-----------------

Alhaitham sighed as he trudged through the house of Daena, eyes searching for the book that he had been trying to borrow for the past few weeks. Not that he needed it, his grande personal collection spoke otherwise, but he had already gone through everything, his books more creased and spines wrinkled as evidence of his excessive care. He wished to borrow something new. Now if only the book didn’t seem to surge in popularity. 

His eyes landed on the book, long legs striding to it with purpose, it was to be his for the two weeks duration, until a hand reached for it at the same time. 

A spark ignited between your outstretched hands, however he didn’t feel repelled, rather the sensation seemed to send a comforting warmth to his heart that signalled safety to him. 

This moment would become engraved in his memory, when his teal eyes landed on yours for the first time, he’d never cared to describe people’s physical appearances beyond what would be convenient to him, but yours seemed to be an endless pit of water that he could drown in. 

Alhaitham staggered back a step, eyes panicked as his eyes searched for your wrist, heart sinking in dread as he saw the matching mark, now pulsing as it found its match. You appeared shocked as you took in this new found development, but by contrast, your lips curved up into a shy smile that he refused to admit was kind of beautiful. 

“Oh my god” 

You stepped forward, eyes curving down to look to his wrist and your smile blossomed even more as you confirmed it. Your happiness was however abruptly cut as he shoved his hand inside his pocket, moving past you to grab the book you two were previously gunning for. 

“Well, I’ll be taking this.” he said, leaving you standing there. He wondered what you looked like standing there alone, in the house of Daena, seeing the owner of the mark matching yours dismissing you. It was quite unheard of, soulmates were usually quite eager, and the first meetings were always recounted as something magical. He wasn’t eager to join the herd though. This is how it was meant to be, two souls parting at the bypass, because he was not obligated to pivot his direction to match yours. 

A thought struck him, his dread transforming to excitement. Soulmate studies had always steered clear of a certain direction, the road always seeming to carry an invisible hazardous warning that discouraged even the most willful scholars. Perhaps one is all it takes to finally discard the sign, ditched like an unseasonal winter coat on a summery day. One person who could prove that he is not willing to give in to the will of the Gods. 

He looked at the mark on his wrist, no longer pulsing, his face impassive, stony, not betraying his inner dilemma. Possibilities flashed before his eyes, calculations, uncertainties. He shoved his wrist back in his pocket, the eyesore taunting him with its vibrant hue, marked on his skin like an inevitable reality.

----------------

That night, Alhaitham had a vivid dream, one he could recall with disturbing detail. 

You and Alhaitham sat underneath the shade, Sumeru roses surrounded the two of you as he hugged you closer to his chest, his rose close enough to your hair that he could breath in your comforting scent while birds chirped, the flowers rustled, and your pages turned while the sun ordained you with it’s warmth. He wasn’t sure for a moment whether the source of the light was you or the sun. He didn’t care. He sighed, one out of comfort rather than fatigue or exacerbation, and you felt it tickling your neck. 

You turned to look at him, smile blinding even as his lips remained in a thin line. You said something, but all his senses centred around his sight, and it was laser focused on your kissable lips. You pouted slightly, before leaning forward and granting him his silent wish. 

As your lips touched his, his fake reality collapsed and he opened his eyes to the fuzzy shape of his room, disoriented at the delusion he had been sucked into. What prompted this dream? A curious question, one he didn’t have a silent clue how to begin answering. He breathed out, swiping his hair back, eyes glancing at the burgeoning morning sky. He wasted hours out of his rest dreaming about you. He’d rather not have dreamt at all. 

He tried to make sense of what had occurred. Meeting you had most likely been the trigger for this dream, but he would need to conduct further analysis.  

Most of Sumeru didn’t dream. Except for soulmarked people, they sometimes dreamt as they were deemed to be closer to deities. This idea was something Alhaitham didn’t buy into, but that’s only one more reason to carry on with this study that he dedicated himself to. Why would he dream of such a warm scene with you when he rejected you with his entire being?

---------------

Alhaitham’s theory, one he nurtured with the pride of a scholar, was that soulmarked people didn’t need their soulmates.

 It’s quite belittling, in his opinion, for one to base their future and value on whether or not they had a mark, and to abandon their individuality based on a mark. Alhaitham had never felt like half of a whole, he had never felt like his cup was half empty, and he frankly didn’t feel lacking. Your presence was thus simply unnecessary. He didn’t desire it, nor need it. 

You were however quite insistent on inserting yourself into his life. 

“As I previously informed you, your presence is quite unneeded. In fact it’s bothersome, can you sit somewhere else?” Alhaitham could not believe that even his favourite spot in his favourite cafe is now being invaded by you. You’re like an invasive species. 

“No, this spot gets the most sunlight. I can’t let you hog it, but I would be willing to offer you a drink as an apology for the huge inconvenience.”

Alhaitham gave you a brief glance, eyes looking to your face for a second, scrutinising you. Your content expression made him swiftly face his book once more. He tried making sense of your move, were you not offended? Did you have no pride? 

When Alhaitham made his stance to you clear, you were too disoriented to rebuttal. What he declared to you was quite unheard of, so he isn’t too surprised. You flashed him a saddened look, not quite heart broken though, and not too discouraged it seemed. You had been pestering him since. 

He surmised now that this was your way of trying to get to know him, accepting a drink means that he forgives you for intruding on his space, and he doesn’t. 

“I don’t want to give you another excuse to stay.” 

“I was never planning to leave Alhaitham. I already have every excuse to stay. Sunshine and a good view.” you said shamelessly, eyes raking his figure.  Alhaitham didn’t look up from his book this time but he could bet that you were looking at your nails nonchalantly. He even found the way you said his name strange, the way you pronounced it was interesting, and he was almost tempted to ask you to say it again just so he could pinpoint the intonations a little more. 

“Such as?” 

Alhaitham didn’t hear you speak for a few seconds, but he paused his reading and looked you in the eye, deadpan and serious. 

“I understand where you’re coming from. You believe being with me would be like, giving in, or something. That you accept that you are somewhat deficient and you need something to fill the gap in you.” you paused then, letting your words sink in with him, he couldn’t hide the way his poker face broke for a second. He certainly wasn’t expecting something insightful right this moment, and perhaps a tiny part of him felt touched that you weren’t undermining his thoughts as people had. 

“But that’s not how I see it, I don’t see you as a person who needs me to complete him. The bond is simply the notion that we complement each other. We are a pair, Alhaitham. You cannot escape it, but being a pair doesn’t mean that we are broken halves of a whole. I wouldn’t be able to be with someone so lacking and neither would you.” 

He let your explanation sink in, disappointment settling in the pit of his stomach. 

“You are overlooking very important variables. It takes so many different factors to shape a person, how could anyone be certain with so many uncontrolled variables that the person will then grow to be their most complementary partner? Maybe my upbringing shaped me in a way that is simply not suitable to you. Maybe there is someone out there that suits you more. But you are letting a mark decide your future, how predictable.” came his reply, scathing, upfront. You seemed to contemplate his words for a few seconds, before slowly nodding. 

“I see, but I will still believe in us. Just as deity’s watch over us and grant us visions, perhaps they are also aware of what our future holds and I will believe in their benevolence in pairing people-” he saw you fidget, saw your eyes avoid his penetrating gaze for two seconds before you resumed, once again resolute “-and just as you are unwavering in your beliefs, I will be unwavering in trying to prove to you that you and me belong together.” 

If Alhaitham was a more emotionally impressionable man, he might’ve described his feelings in this moment as butterflies as you proudly proclaimed your intentions. He isn’t however, and he decided it’s rather an annoyance having you here. 

He went back to his book, deciding this conversation to be over.

--------------

Entry 4, date xx 

It’s unfortunate yet understandable that research guidelines forbid me from using my own personal experience in my research. It won’t deter me from writing these entries, detailing my experience, so that someone in the future picking up this kind of research may have at least one detailed example. It’s hard to find people who do not conform to the standard of being with their soulmates upon discovering them, even if it means divorce, relocation etc. This makes academic studies that challenge the status quo quite difficult. In time, I do believe that people will move to treating soulmarks with more lukewarm expectations. 

My ‘soulmate’, a fellow researcher at the Akademiya, takes a stance quite oppositional to mine. Time did not deter her from pursuing me, nor her endless attempts at gaining my favour. It’s been a hassle, only made me wish I’d been born markless even more. 

Some of her attempts included, but were not limited to

Buying me things. Such as a coffee (one of my more favoured drinks) when I’d fall asleep in the library, and resisting the temptation of consuming the beverage in my disoriented state was quite difficult, and wasteful. Consuming it does not therefore warrant any form of affection. Although it is peculiar that she always managed to find me at my most vulnerable.

Dispelling rumours about me. Quite useless, as I never cared what people said or thought of me, she was better off focusing on her pressing research. This asserts that soulmates are not more suited to each other than any average pair on the street, as assuming we have this telepathic connection would mean that people finding me unapproachable is rather helpful for me. Needless to say this method of hers was the least useful. 

Always talking to me. Though her tactics changed over the years. She no longer makes small talk, or attempts to change my mind. She now attempts to use my hobbies to make my brain associate her with my interests. She brings up books that I’d borrowed, sparks a discussion on them that would leave me no choice but to respond to her avid attempts at dialogue. She impressively did seem to digest the contents of the books quite well, and my enthusiasm when conversing about say, “How Language is a Tool of Policing”, does not equate to my favour. 

Buying me books.

This list seems to be getting needlessly long, and upon further thought it’s rather useless, so I will deign to stop.

-----------------

A group of scholars trekked along the Avidiya forest, mostly Amurta students, so it’s no wonder you are there. Alhaitham is one of the few odd ones out, but considering his penchant for knowledge and innate curiosity, it's no wonder he’s there. Reading about different biological life forms in the rainforest is useful enough, but seeing with his own two eyes is a must. A few samples to test certain herbal effects would also be quite beneficial. 

He looked around, taking in his surroundings. Green eyes took in the scenery, beautiful mosses and grandiose trees, aged and chipped and hanging a shadow over them, so massive that the humans beneath it looked to be of no special significance. 

His eyes inadvertently landed on you. You were bundled closely to another Amurta student, one with fennec fox features. His shoulders were touching yours as his eyes drank up the papers in your hands with curiosity, and you didn’t seem to mind as you smiled and pointed at certain parts, talking animatedly. 

Alhaitham curled up a grey eyebrow at the way the guy’s tail seemed one step away from wagging, what an inconvenient appendage to have. 

He showed his notes to you, pointing at different places in the forest and pointing back to his notes, talking excitedly. You nodded, adding an input here and there, this discussion of yours seems very interesting. Perhaps he should move closer to hear what you and the star of Amurta seem to be discussing with so much excitement.

Alhaitham, who was previously intentionally lagging behind the group, with several steps was within a hearing distance between you and Tighnari. However, he was irked to know that he could hear nothing because you two, although animated, were speaking in hushed tones as if disclosing a secret in broad daylight. 

With carefully measured steps, he weaved himself even closer, but not close enough to arouse suspicion. From this angle, he could see the way the so called star of Amurta’s long conspicuous ears pricked in your direction, unwilling to miss a single word out of your mouth. 

“You’re so lucky Tighnari, Amurta is very lucky to have someone with your constitution, but trying out different mushrooms seems quite fun” you said, starry eyed at the so called Tighnari, all over some mushrooms? Alhaitham knows a lot about rainforest mushrooms, as any scholar should. Maybe the standards for Amurta Darshan are just lower these days. 

“Well you’re in luck, I found a way to minimise the effects of the mushrooms by taking a small sample and boiling it, so if you’re quite interested you can come around to my place so we can test different mushrooms together.” Tighnari said, tone bordering on gloating as he seemed quite prideful in his discovery. 

To Alhaitham’s chagrin, you nodded with child-like excitement, have you taken leave of your senses? This endeavour seems so dangerous and yet you’ve agreed to it without a second thought to your safety, or perhaps there’s another reason for your excitement. 

Alhaitham can imagine it perfectly. You’d look at Tighnari with glassy eyes, flushed appearance, softly panting as you declare that the mushrooms seem especially potent-

No. 

Time spent daydreaming is time wasted, and this same logic applies to thoughts of you. What you get up to is none of his concern, and who you get up to it with as well. He’s not with you in sickness or health, so he cares not if you possess either. 

Alhaitham is despondent at the fact that one cannot tread the rainforest while reading a book. It’s naturally a recipe for disaster, as he might trip and fall and damage his book in an act of foolishness. It’s regrettable however, as your own foolishness has rendered him unable to fully take in his surroundings. 

The group is taken to the camp as the sun bids adieu and the moon illuminates the rainforest in a faint light, making the shadows appear much more ominous as they towered and arched over the students. 

Alhaitham pulled out his book, fully intending to consume his meal with the company of the pages in his hands, but you had other ideas, seeming to finally remember your mission of pestering him whenever you are in his presence. 

“So, how did you find today’s trip?” always starting out with meaningless small talk, perhaps you are hoping he will one day humour you. 

“It’s been great till now.” clipped and curt, as usual. 

“Did you find it informative? It’s been great seeing so many different rainforest life forms. Maybe I should work for a few months here after finishing my thesis, if only to get more acquainted with the life forms. But I won’t do that before I sort things out.” you kept your words vague, but Alhaitham could sense the meaning hidden beneath them. You won’t move until you make this soulmate dream of yours a reality. He’s been rejecting you, and here you are making life plans around him, trying carefully to make him fit in with your plans. Planning the course of your life around him.

Choosing to conceal the reality of his day, he replies with an affirmative hum. You got the memo, choosing to open your packed food and eat, most likely busy with your own thoughts, while Alhaitham entertains his own. 

------------

Entry 90, date xx. 

This might prove to be a complete coincidence, and I’m confused as to why it’s occurring myself, despite my investigations and various attempts at isolating and looking at different variables. 

In the years I have known who my soulmate is, I have been dreaming. Eerily, my dreams usually concern her in one way or the other, so it must be something related to our bond. In my last dream, I can vaguely remember a warm feeling in my belly, as ambiguous as that sounds. I laid my head on her lap, reading, while she soothingly caressed my hair. Disappointingly, I do not recall the contents of the book, only the warm caress of her fingers that lulled me into a feeling of comfort. 

The feelings of my dreams however, I am certain, do not carry on into my daylight hours. 

Maybe I must admit I am somewhat impressed by her tenacity and persistence, perhaps that feeling is causing my subconscious to confuse the nature of our relationship?

-----------------

Alhaitham is tired of whatever farce you are trying to play. 

You are like a migraine to him, your arrival always a nuisance, a pain, and wholly unwelcome. You do not respect his choices, opinions. Your existence frustrates him, and he cares not that you always take great care not to cause him trouble. Your actions, while deceptively helpful, greatly annoy the scribe. 

This year, his attempts at dissuading you have gotten rather harsh. This is because he can no longer afford you indifference. This can be traced back to when you left a cake on his desk. Congratulating him on his new role as scribe. The flavour was not overly sweet, it’s something he would usually enjoy consuming, but the feelings borne within his chest at the sentimental message written on the cake caused him to pause. The moths swarming his belly did not make sense, his response did not make sense. The cogs that always efficiently turned in his head seemed to clog at the thought of you. 

An uncharacteristic rage blinded him that day, he did not feel this way in his life before, and when he sat reflecting on his now emptier desk after harshly dumping the cake in the bin facing his office, he thought that the new found nuisance in his life is more troublesome than he previously predicted. 

One day, a golden opportunity seemed to land on his lap. A one in a million lucky chance. Though Alhaitham thinks a lucky chance is only one if you can reap the benefits it brings you. 

It was a pleasant night, the air, while warm, was comfortable as cooler wind blew inside the tavern and ruffled his hair slightly. He was drinking alone, a choice he made as the comfort of his own thoughts was something he needed. He’d be able to ruminate in peace, had the cause of his irritation not found him once again. 

“Oh my, hi Alhaitham. We keep running into each other, it’s almost like fate huh” you greeted, plopping yourself beside him, calling to the bartender to pass you a drink too, signalling the start of Alhaitham’s misfortune. So nonchalantly confident, your head always held up high around him, as if his attitude towards you is a mere playing hard to get. 

He opened his lips, a scathing reply at the tip of them, until another irritation called out his name jarringly. 

He turned his head, as several others did before minding their own business after briefly casting them curious looks. 

“Soo this is where you spend your time! You could have invited me, you know.” some women from the Akademiya sat to his left, batting her lashes at him in what he assumes is her way of being coy and attractive. 

He was halfway into finishing his drink. It’s a shame he’ll have to retire early as his night no longer holds the promise of peace. However, upon seeing you casting them a curious look, silent for once in your life, he got a much more brilliant idea. 

It takes a genius to turn a stroke of misfortune into a lucky chance. 

Although having never indulged in this sort of useless and amateurish behaviour, likening it to some sort of primitive mating call, Alhaitham is adaptable and a great actor when it comes to securing his own peace. 

“Sorry honey, I’ve been somewhat preoccupied. Surely I can make it up to you” he feigned a cordial look, eyes raking through her figure. She’s not really his type. Her lap didn’t seem comfortable to lay his head on, and even the shape of her fingernails seemed to turn him off. Coincidently, some of your physical features are rather favourable to him, especially the shade of your eyes. Her voice also sounds grating, and he wished she'd never say his name again. But he put up with it, and even went as far is to brush his hand on her upper thigh, his implications clear.

His reply took you and her by surprise, shocked faces at the tone no one heard from the blunt scribe before, but her shock quickly morphed to glee. 

“Of course! I’m not one to hold grudges” she scooted closer to him, and he quickly wondered if this was worth it, or a detour into wasting even more of his time, especially as her hands reached out and touched his shoulder, rendering him wordless with the awkwardness of having to tolerate her invasive touches.

He glanced at you, and your frozen made you look stuck in your spot, in disbelief, surely it’s not preposterous that he might pursue someone else? His lips willfully thinned though, when he saw how your previously frozen eyes melted into a volcano, rage swimmed within them, as your brows scrunched disapprovingly. He’d never seen you look like this, even when he threw all your attempts back in your face all those years. He’d never seen you look like you wished the ground would open and swallow him, and his gut twisted uncomfortably at the thought. 

Perhaps this was all it really took to have you leave him be. He wondered why he never took this approach before. 

He cast furtive glances at the other women speaking, unwilling to break this facade now, but he found that the air after you left seemed much more cold. 

“You can stop bothering me now. Whatever you think could happen between us isn’t going to, but it was amusing seeing you gullible you could be.” he spoke while nursing another drink, his eyes not even meeting hers, though she might find this to be in her benefit. Although his clipped words were missing their usual edge, it still had the desired effect. 

“You jerk, do you think you’re too good for me? I was willing to tolerate your dry personality because you had a pretty face, but your head is bigger than I thought. Bring yourself down to earth, at this rate you’re going to die alone and miserable as you always have been.” 

People’s words never bothered him, and even now they do not. He chooses to live his life the way he chooses, and people’s opinions will never change his pursuit of personal peace. However, he found it interesting that one rejection from him caused her to spout so much venom at him, when years of him doing that to you didn’t have this effect. Is it that you’re patient? Level headed? Kind? Well, more like hopelessly foolish.

---------------

Entry 1023, date xx

For the past month, I haven’t seen much of her. It seems that before, she went out of her way to run into me. Ever since the night at the tavern, her pursuit seemed to end completely. This is what I wanted for years, isn’t it? I have finally achieved the desired results. 

I am still as whole as the day I was born, I don’t feel lacking. I am fine.

-----------

Alhaitham finished up writing the latest entry, closing the journal and putting it inside his drawer. As he stretched, he caught sight of his face. 

His facial hair seems to be growing out, painting his face in a five o’clock shadow. He stroked the coarseness, wondering why he’d missed his usual schedule of trimming. 

He shook the creeping thoughts away, approaching his bed to finally get a much needed rest. He needs to clear the pesky thoughts away, so that he may finally enjoy the books he’s been meaning to read. You’d probably have something insightful to say about them, you usually seemed to. 

Curses, why must his own brain betray him? 

Sleep, when it finally came, was not peaceful. 

He was frantically opening every door in his house, searching for something. Opening doors, searching, repeating.

The violent cycle went on, his heart falling every time his mysterious search reaped nothing. 

He shook awake, panting so loudly that he wondered briefly whether he performed a strenuous exercise in his sleep, if the erratic thumping of his heart was any clue. It banged painfully against his ribs. His hair clung to his forehead, and his face felt suspiciously wet. He needs to calm down, so that he may analyse the cause of his restless sleep and eliminate it. But his brain stubbornly shut down, and Alhaitham's throat traitorously clogged up. 

Deep breath. A  response like this might not be any cause for alarm. Deep breath. Emotional hysterics will solve nothing. Deep breath.

Why do the walls feel like they are closing in on him?

-------------------

It’s been 4 months and 6 days since Alhaitham saw you. Or heard from you. 

This period is incredibly unusual, you never went so long without speaking to him. Is the thought of him pursuing another woman truly all it took to throw you off? Perhaps he gave your persistence undeserving credit. He wishes he could hear your thoughts, stumble into a journal of yours. If only to see whether his hypothesis proved right, that once you realised this you too came to your senses and realised you could lead a happy life without him. 

His inability to know filled him with bitterness, yet why is he feeling such when he prided himself on only speculating things of importance? His frustration made him gnaw on his lips. 

“I do think they look good together, she should take her chance with him” 

Dimwits gossiping in the library might be the last straw, why is it that people can’t save their idle chatter for a more appropriate place?

“Yeah, but doesn’t (y/n) have a soulmark? This could end disastrously.”

What?

“Yeah but, it’s quite rare for soulmates to find each other nowadays, she shouldn’t waste her chance because of something that might never be.” 

Who? And when did this happen?

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

Alhaitham’s brain, if possible, might melt. An overload of thoughts, information, noises, all overstimulating him. But if he thought hard enough, it’s quite clear that this is another tactic of yours. You’ve gotten quite clever. It cannot be a mere coincidence that this gossip found its way to his ears, you must be trying to ignite some irrational feeling within him, jealousy. 

Too bad he’ll never give you the satisfaction of seeing him this way. 

He closed his book, a mere decoration at this point, and walked out of the library, thinking a walk would help clear his head. 

“Yeah, he seems quite taken by her, I think he is seriously courting her.”

No matter what hallway he’s in, what direction he pivots to, the building of the Akademiya itself seems to be buzzing with talks of you and some guy. You’ve put a lot of effort into this farce of yours, did you take in the consequences? When this blows over, your dignity as a scholar would surely never recover. You’d be known as a gossipmonger. 

Days have passed however, and the talk showed no sign of stopping. You and a wealthy sponsor of the Akademiya, who hails from Fontaine. He’d fallen in love with you, is courting you, and everything trivial inbetween. When did you even have time to catch the eye of someone so apparently important? It’s implausible, and incredibly petty. 

Why are you nowhere to be found now? 

--------------

Statistically, Alhaitham knows that it’s impossible not to have run into you by now. Unless you have been going out of your way to avoid him. He even changed his usual seating spot in the library, thinking that maybe he’d find you away from his corner. He’s been roaming in the city the past month more than he had in a year. 

The worst thing is that he didn’t understand why he was going so far to find you. It defied logic itself, his persistence. It’s none of his business what you do, so he should give up while he’s at it. Come back to his senses, and live out his peace. 

You seemed to haunt him though, and as his tired teal eyes roamed the cafe on his way once more, fate seemed to drop him a little trinket. 

He squinted his eyes, seeing the familiarly patterned, maroon scarf that you always wore when it got a bit chilly. He rushed inside the cafe, eyes zeroed on it. Before looking outside once more in search of your figure. He’d probably just missed you. 

The rational choice would be to hand over the scarf to the workers, you’d probably come in search of it, but before rationale could halt him, he took the scarf and left, but not before catching a whiff of your familiar scent. 

This would give him a reasonable excuse to talk to you, you can’t refuse an act of goodwill from him right? He thought back, trying to find a single moment in which he’d done you a favour and not the reverse. 

His stomach sank as he realised that he’d in fact never done a single act of goodwill towards you, he’d spared you nothing but harsh words of rejection and belittlement. 

Perhaps this is why he’s been searching for you, to try and ease this feeling of guilt that hasn’t left him since you completely erased your existence out of his life. You’d made home in every corner of his life, trying to make it a little more bearable. You were a sacrifice to his philosophy, it couldn’t be any other way, because Alhaitham is equally stubborn, he’d never give in to the will of someone else who’s ordained how he must live his life. 

But for now, he’ll take this scarf home, knowing deep down that he doesn’t intend to return it. 

-------------

Alhaitham sat on the couch near his bed, watching perplexed as you made out with a clone of him. Your fingers tangled in his grey strands, beautiful, naked body straddling him, as if you were trying to become one with him, merge your being with his so that he may never try and discard you. Your lips moulded with his own, and he’d returned the favour with equal fervour. 

Only, his grey hair began darkening from the roots down, becoming a pitch black colour. You pulled away, and he watched horrified as his clone’s face melted like clay, only to be reconstructed as the face of a stranger. You however appeared indifferent, eyes soulless and lacking the tenacity you seemed to possess earlier. 

He stood up to try and take you away, but an invisible force pulled him back, leaving him only to thrash while a stranger held you, and you let him. 

You let the stranger cradle your body, indifference melting into a bittersweet smile as your lips found his. 

Alhaitham’s eyes stung, and he tried closing them to shield himself from the sight as you let a stranger make love to you, but he couldn’t. His eyes were made to be peeled wide upon as he watched and heard you, and his wrist burned, heart ached. But through it all, he’d only wished that you’d stop and look at him again. 

But you didn’t, your eyes didn’t leave the stranger's body, not until they rolled back in ecstasy while you used his body for your pleasure. The strangers hands caressed you, and strummed your pleasure to a tune that only produced the most melodious sounds out of you. 

Tears started falling down his cheeks. But he still couldn’t close his eyes. 

Alhaitham opened his eyes, feeling like a dam had broken on his pillow as the moistness in his eyes blurred his vision. 

He rubbed his tears away, but they wouldn’t stop, not for as long as he remembered his nightmare. You, so close, making love to someone else while he was forced to watch and hear. 

Why did he have to be tormented even in dreams? 

His heart hammered away so loudly that it felt like drums to his ears, his lungs refused to operate as an unbearable feeling of pain overwhelmed him. He pulled his knees to his chest as he willed his shivering to stop, the moon staring mercilessly at him as he rocked back and forth. 

He suddenly remembered a find of his, and with a blurry vision he fished out your scarf, holding it up to his nose to breathe in the scent he’d been denied. He rubbed away his tears, not wanting to stain your scarf with it, and like something beyond reason his tears had stopped. 

His sleep was dreamless after that. 

-------------

Entry 1800, date xx 

Dreams have been tormenting my nights, and reality torments my day. Why does it feel like I’m being continuously punished? Were my ideas so cardinally sinful that the deity’s above have taken to cause me misery? 

I have once again devolved to foolish thoughts. It’s my thoughts that torment me, not any higher power. 

If she’s anything to go by, then I guess my hypothesis has been proven correct. She no longer seeks me out, hasn’t done so in 8 months. When I catch a glimpse of her, it’s so brief it’s almost like a phantom. I do hear of her though, that she’s happy with another man. That they might move back to Fontaine together at this rate, that this might not be fling. She’d succeeded in something no one has succeeded at before her. She left her soulmate behind and pursued her own path. I was never needed.

The idea that she might move to Fontaine is rather far fetched though, as she is still a researcher, and this is but only one relationship. Moving to a completely new homeland to pursue such a fresh relationship is completely spontaneous and irresponsible. Especially considering she would need to abandon many of her projects. 

They will most likely break up, they might not, only time will tell. But for the time being, she seems to have moved on.

-----------

Alhaitham’s haggard figure trekked through the Sumeru, eyes a dull green that looked sombre as he glanced through the stalls. Malnutrition is the most likely cause of the way he’s had no energy lately, even his bones seemed to ache in protest. 

With a fresh bag of groceries in hand, Alhaitham walked back home, eyes downcast and somewhat soulless. He needs to cook today, needs to eat something and get on with his life. He needs to. 

With his downcast eyes and general disinterest, he almost missed the crowd of awed bystanders forming a ring around two people. With one furtive glance, he deemed it not worth his time, until he caught sight of the second star of the show. 

It’s you. Standing there. It’s finally you. Light seemed to come back to his eyes, if only for a brief second before horror overtook them. 

It’s you, standing there, with a man kneeling on the floor proposing to you. A crowd of people all around you two, smiling, anticipating, gasping. 

It’s you, nodding your head as another man puts a ring on your finger, his pitch dark hair and features nothing like Alhaitham, with one look Alhaitham can surmise that he’s everything Alhaitham could never be. His smiling face charms everyone in sight, he’s like a star that everyone wants to be near to bask in his aura. 

Alhaitham doesn’t have the vocabulary to describe such a raw feeling with medical terms, but if he can be sentimental, he might be able to say that his soul hurts.

------------

Dear (y/n), 

The Akademiya is currently lacking in capable personnel, and as the scribe I had been entrusted with alleviating this issue using records of capable individuals. You had many great works under your belt, and I understand that our personal matters might’ve driven you away to Fontaine, but I find it rather immature that you’d go so far and abandon your responsibilities to pursue a relationship. 

Please consider coming back, as the Akademiya is willing to offer you a new position that you might find to be to your liking, the job benefits are numerous such as a large residence in Sumeru and a very high salary with many days of paid leave. Please contact me for more information. 

Alhaitham 

-----------------

 Dear (y/n), 

I have received your letter of rejection. 

Perhaps the salary wasn’t to your liking? The Akademiya is willing to double it, all your research projects will be fully funded and approved and you may pick up where you left off without any hassle. Any additional requirements could be negotiated, it would surely not be ideal to disregard such a promising career and job title in the Darshan you have dedicated years to. 

I apologise for any harsh words I have previously said to you, sometimes, well, most times my pride gets the best of me and I end up hurting people with my words. I would like to say that I never meant to hurt you, but at the time I did and I do feel quite regretful. Our personal matters should never be a reason for you to reject such a great offer. I understand that you are in a committed relationship, but you shouldn’t be discouraged to pursue other paths so early on in your life. 

Alhaitham

--------------

Dear (y/n), 

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I would apologise for every second I disregarded you if it means you might come back. I would give you anything. I’m sorry I didn’t before, and that it took me so long. 

I’m pathetic, foolish, unworthy, and every derogatory term on this earth. But I also love you. I’m sorry it took having nothing of you in my life but a scarf you’d forgotten to realise that I love you.

When I sit in the corner of the library, I always save a seat next to me, hoping by some miracle you’d show up again. That you’d sit there again, laughing, smiling at me like you’d sucked all the warmth out of the sun, and this time I’d smile at you back until my cheeks hurt because you have come to mean happiness to me. 

I’ve loved you for every single year I’d known you, and for every single season, there was no one ever but you. Please believe me, I’d never pursued any relationships, it was only ever you that occupied my heart and thoughts. That woman you saw at the tavern wasn’t someone I was seeing, and I rejected her after, even if this meagre show of loyalty is too little too late. I was a fool that day, I was angry at my feelings, at the way my heart and brain were in complete incoordination that I took her advances to try and hurt you. I didn’t even touch her, she meant nothing to me, I wish I didn’t show up to the tavern that day so then maybe you’d still be in my life. 

Nothing fills the vacuum you left behind, my heart. I cried so much the day you left that it felt like I’d never stop crying. 

I tried to deny something so wonderful, and when my wish was granted I declared that I want you back. You must think I’m the most selfish man you’ve ever known. I might be. I’m sorry I rejected you and denied my feelings for so long, but please, will you come back and return the colour to my life? I will never take you for granted again. 

Please come back, I’m begging you. 

Alhaitham

-------------

Alhaitham walked around the labyrinth, nothing but the moonlight guiding him on his quest to find you. He’s frantic, rushing around from one dead end to another. 

And then he finds you, laying there, in the centre, bushes and greenery enveloping you, and you seemed happy to see him, because your cheeks quirked up and eyes crinkled in a smile that he’d been deprived of for long enough to realise it’s as essential as oxygen to him. 

He ran to you, breaking you free of your binds, enveloping you in his arms before kissing your lips in reverence as if he worships you. He kisses you, not stopping until he realises that you aren’t responding, and that you’ve gone cold in his arms.

-----------------

Alhaitham stared at the piling documents in front of him, eyes bloodshot and blurry. He’s glad that no one usually approaches him, for he must look like he squabble with the grim reaper last night. 

He sighed, hand going to his chest, rubbing it in a vain attempt to soothe the ache there. You didn’t reply to any of his letters. Why would you? He’s truly a piece of work to attempt to contact you after all he’s done to you over the years. 

He doesn’t know how long he can go on like this, but he knows for certain that he’s become the villain of his own story. His hubris and pride have pulled him down to a hell that he lives in everyday. He mocked soul mates all his life for travelling for miles to be together, for quitting jobs, getting divorced, all for a fated person. Alhaitham cannot look down on them any more, because if you don’t respond to him soon he will run to Fontaine and grovel until you spare him a single glance, and then he will finally feel like he’s found his Oasis after being stuck in a never ending desert. 

It feels like a knife stabbing his chest whenever he thinks of you in another land, married to another man, loving him and being loved by him in a way Alhaitham will never experience. But he brought this on himself, how can he blame you? He drove you into someone else’s arms. 

He touched his forehead, feeling somewhat feverish. He’s felt drained the past few weeks, but especially so after the dream he’d last had. His entire body is aching, and his breaths feel shallow, but if he plans to try to go to Fontaine he’d better start working now. 

Alhaitham opens the documents on his desk, diligently working on one after the other until his eyes land on the freshest arrivals. 

Alhaitham doesn’t fully remember what happened after that, but he remembers reading the words that shattered his entire world before his vision faded to black. 

“The student and faculty body is urgently requesting the papers to be processed to allow the body of (y/n) to be transferred to Sumeru to be buried in her homeland after her tragic murder. please…”

--------------

Alhaitham opened his eyes to an unfamiliar sight, the air felt sanitised and the sheets scratchy, alarming him to abruptly sit up, causing his head to feel light and vision to get hazy again. 

A nurse rushed over to him, calming him down and informing him of his condition. 

He was fatigued and had a fever, overwork and a mental shock took a toll on him and he passed out. That won’t do, he must get back to work so he can go after (y/n). 

(y/n)... 

His brain was refusing to process what he read, it must be a sick joke. A fucked up prank. You’re in Fontaine, happy and married, or perhaps still engaged. He hopes you’re still only engaged. 

He turns to the nurse who still held a worried look on her face, brown eyes crinkled in worry over a stranger. You’d give him this look sometimes too. 

“I’m alright. I’m going home to rest now.” he didn’t. 

He went back to the Akademiya, back to his office, to check that this was not reality, only one of the many nightmares that had been haunting him. He wasn’t the most devout man in his life, but for the first time in his life he made a prayer. Please let him have another chance, please don’t make him live this, don’t take her away from me this way.

Fate was cruel. 

Alhaitham faced the reality living out before him. He looked down, his wrist trembling, he’s been so afraid to look for the longest time, knowing he undeserving he was of it, but now he needs to, he needs to confirm. 

He turned his wrist, the mark on it has lost all colour, it’s now darker than any night Alhaitham had lived.

------------------

You left this world, he chants in his head, rocking back and forth. 

His room looked like a testament of destruction, everything was smashed, papers ripped, books destroyed, everything he faced didn’t survive to tell the tale. 

You left him alone in this world. 

The house and Sumeru itself never felt too big for one person, but now he feels like he’s drowning amidst the populace, his world never felt duller and more lonely, he faintly remembers a familiar pricking of loneliness when his grandmother passed. The mere prick had transformed into a tidal wave that’s drowning him under, and Alhaitham can’t breath amidst the saltwater. 

Did you even read his letters? Did you at least die knowing he loves you? 

He holds his pounding head in his hands, crushed at the thought of you dying with the thought that he doesn’t care about you. Did you forgive him as you took your last breath? Or did you despise him tenfold? 

You were killed, how could anyone think of hurting you? Since when was the world so cruel? 

It’s all Alhaitham’s fault, if he hadn’t pushed you towards that man, you would never have left with him, if only he thought for a second, if only his hubris didn’t cloud his logic. 

His heart had died that day, but he couldn’t find it in him to stand up and attend the funeral.

-----------------

“This is the book that brought us together my love, I still remember. If I recall far enough I can even describe the feeling of your fingers brushing against mine.” Alhaitham mutters, making himself comfortable beside you, this is the closest he will get to reading in your embrace, so he might as well make himself comfortable against the harsh slab of rock that has become your home. 

“I should have let you have it, or perhaps suggested we read it together? I should have invited you to pupsa cafe that day and introduced you as my soulmate to the owner. I can’t undo that, no longer am I able to agonise about the past, so now this is my attempt of redoing it. I hope you can forgive me.” he said, tracing the soil as tears lined his lashes, he brought you some flowers too, this is his first time bringing you flowers. 

“I’ll read the book out to you, alright?” and so Alhaitham flicks the book open. 

He reads out until his throat hurts, and the position of the sun changes, until the wind becomes more biting and harsh, and the song of nature becomes louder. He’s got the protection of your scarf, but it pains him even more that your scent has nearly fully faded away. 

He flicks the book closed, asking you about it, but of course you can never respond, nor can you even hear him when you're resting in silence six feet under. 

Humans are truly curious creatures, Alhaitham can admit he’s no exception. Their actions can never be truly calculated, uncontrolled variables cloud their existence. Most people accept the benefits that come with having a chosen one ordained by the stars, they weep in joy as a fated lover sweeps them under. 

Some like Alhaitham do not. They justify the rationale of a lonely existence, disregard a fate carved for them by an unknown force, they refuse to become one with the herd. However, one doesn’t discover true loneliness until they discover what it’s like to bask in the joys of companionship. Such simple acts like drinking coffee together while you both read, the comfort of knowing that you’re always nearby, ready to intervene when you think life is becoming too troublesome for him, the celebratory gifts, the laughs and smiles, they are all so incredibly mundane. But love is not so otherworldly, because if so, then the masses would never get to experience it. Your simple acts of love towards him are things he shall never experience again. The truth, something he always pursued with endless disregard for people’s feelings, is now too bitter for him to accept. 

Did Alhaitham’s world always look so grey? Why is loss so hard to comprehend? It might have something to do with the fact that you were never his to lose. 

He’s like a child, chasing after a kite that he can never have within his grasp again, nature’s will is too strong. 

The people at the Akademiya have moved on, tales and gossip surrounding your death dimmed from gasp-inducing tales to idle chatter, and now time has moved on and you were simply a topic out of season. It makes him mad, the way your friends can so easily laugh without looking at the vacant spot in their groups, how could the world so easily move on when Alhaitham is still left behind, clinging on to an outdated calendar?

His anger has long disappeared though, it left nothing but the bitter sting of regret, regret for what wasn’t and for what now couldn’t be. It took him too long to realise that the bentos dumped in trashes could have been dinners he came home to, made not expertly but with love. That seeing you barefoot in his kitchen after he left his work on the dot was a daydream worth chasing after. He grips the flask in his hand, throat feeling parched for release, mind desperate to finally leave this nightmare behind and rest.

“They say soulmates are binded in every life, their souls marking their bodies in an attempt to find their missing half. Do you think in the next life, we can be together? It’s too cruel to think that this is the end, so I entertain myself with such musings sometimes to comfort myself.”

Too preoccupied and swarmed with thoughts, Alhaitham failed to notice the shadow approaching him until its figure stood in front of him. He lifts his head, taking in the elderly lady who’s gentle countenance and wise wrinkled eyes reminded him so much of his grandmother that he nearly asked for an embrace. 

“Are you alright young man, you’ve been in this cold for a while haven’t you? I’m sure your loved one would want you to be happy and warm.'' Her soothing tone nearly made Alhaitham break into sobs, confessing that he’s never known warmth since you took all of it away when you became cold. He became cold too, after all he is your other half. 

He smiled, a smile so sincere that it looked off on his usually sombre face, and a hint of warmth seemed to return to him. He fingered the flask in his hand, his eyes hinting the grief bottled up inside of him. 

“Don’t worry, I will be, it shouldn’t take too long.”

----------------

“It’s been several years since the tragedy of the couple in mention, and while a difficult decision, we have decided a few months ago to look at their case to study the phenomenon of soulmates and their correlation to dreaming.” The aged lecturer spoke, voice low and hinting at the deep seriousness of the matter. The hall is silent, many having memories of the two, and while the murder of (y/n) shook many to their core, the unseen bond that you had to the Akademiya’s scribe made the tale truly a tragedy. Others, the more clueless ones who didn’t quite know the two, cast curious glances around. With time, there will be no need to pay homage to the tragedy of the matter, your bond will not be commemorated for how loving or sad it was, but it will be documented for Academic research. In a way, you and Alhaitham will live on and be remembered as a pair, though not the way either of you intended. 

“The various notes left behind by the two, Alhaitham’s in particular, took especially long to go through, and some transcriptions had to be salvaged. This study proved useful to the hypothesis that soulmates are more prone to dreaming because of the connection that they share. Many researchers have gone further to assert that it might be that the link between them links their subconscious and the hyper activity across this link stimulates shared dreams. The feelings of the pair experienced during daylight muddled together during their sleep-” the lecturer pauses to take a deep breath, flicking through the lecture notes “-and produced dreams that were shared by the two, and seemed to be directly influenced by both their feelings.” he let that information sink in before resuming. 

“For example, as seen in page 34, Alhaitham  was avid in documenting anything related to his soulmate, yet it seemed he was completely unaware, as most people wouldn’t be, that the day he dreamt of her having intercourse with someone else was the same day that she in fact did. We can thus somewhat deduce that this dream was influenced by her feelings regarding the-” he paused momentarily, thinking of an appropriate phrasing “-her feelings regarding the act.” 

“The dreams they had, interestingly, sometimes reflected their feelings towards each other more honestly than their daylight hours and dialogue. Their bond can never be broken by rejection, it seemed. They still found a way of subconsciously communicating. Their case has become a hot topic of research, especially in regards to soulmates and dreams respectively.” 

The lecturer felt somewhat forlorn, knowing that endless lecture notes on the two came at the expense of something they will never get to experience. 

[spice-chan]

Your Form parted from my Sober Mind

Alhaitham x fem!reader

Summary: Alhaitham was not an idealist, but he would fight tooth and nail for his ideals. A soulmate, in particular, conflicts with them.

word count: 10k

tags/warnings: soulmate au. this is dark. dead dove do not eat. rejection. mentions of murder. implications/implied of suicide. there's death in this fic (I'm trying not to spoil things here). Many different narrative styles, but it's all mainly from Alhaitham's POV. kind of mutual pining? mention of marriage. dreams are a reoccurring motif. implied sex, not too explicit but the act is described in enough detail

authors note: I came back from the dead...and made Frankenstein's monster.

“Then from his closing eyes thy form shall part,

And the last pang shall tear thee from his heart,” 

Alexander Pope, Elegy to The Memory of An Unfortunate Lady.

While everyone succumbs to a paradigm, that soulmarked people are irrevocably tied to one person, they are neglecting to consider alternatives. This consensus is harming the growth of Academia, and stunting further discoveries. Conducting further research on the phenomenon of soulmates is near impossible, because participation is scarce, as soulmarked people are very complacent, willing to take a backseat in their own future. I, as a soulmarked person, refuse to believe that some supreme deity is more aware of my own preferences and needs than I. In time, I shall prove that, and rewrite the way people view soulmates as we know it. 

-Alhaitham

-----------------

Alhaitham sighed as he trudged through the house of Daena, eyes searching for the book that he had been trying to borrow for the past few weeks. Not that he needed it, his grande personal collection spoke otherwise, but he had already gone through everything, his books more creased and spines wrinkled as evidence of his excessive care. He wished to borrow something new. Now if only the book didn’t seem to surge in popularity. 

His eyes landed on the book, long legs striding to it with purpose, it was to be his for the two weeks duration, until a hand reached for it at the same time. 

A spark ignited between your outstretched hands, however he didn’t feel repelled, rather the sensation seemed to send a comforting warmth to his heart that signalled safety to him. 

This moment would become engraved in his memory, when his teal eyes landed on yours for the first time, he’d never cared to describe people’s physical appearances beyond what would be convenient to him, but yours seemed to be an endless pit of water that he could drown in. 

Alhaitham staggered back a step, eyes panicked as his eyes searched for your wrist, heart sinking in dread as he saw the matching mark, now pulsing as it found its match. You appeared shocked as you took in this new found development, but by contrast, your lips curved up into a shy smile that he refused to admit was kind of beautiful. 

“Oh my god” 

You stepped forward, eyes curving down to look to his wrist and your smile blossomed even more as you confirmed it. Your happiness was however abruptly cut as he shoved his hand inside his pocket, moving past you to grab the book you two were previously gunning for. 

“Well, I’ll be taking this.” he said, leaving you standing there. He wondered what you looked like standing there alone, in the house of Daena, seeing the owner of the mark matching yours dismissing you. It was quite unheard of, soulmates were usually quite eager, and the first meetings were always recounted as something magical. He wasn’t eager to join the herd though. This is how it was meant to be, two souls parting at the bypass, because he was not obligated to pivot his direction to match yours. 

A thought struck him, his dread transforming to excitement. Soulmate studies had always steered clear of a certain direction, the road always seeming to carry an invisible hazardous warning that discouraged even the most willful scholars. Perhaps one is all it takes to finally discard the sign, ditched like an unseasonal winter coat on a summery day. One person who could prove that he is not willing to give in to the will of the Gods. 

He looked at the mark on his wrist, no longer pulsing, his face impassive, stony, not betraying his inner dilemma. Possibilities flashed before his eyes, calculations, uncertainties. He shoved his wrist back in his pocket, the eyesore taunting him with its vibrant hue, marked on his skin like an inevitable reality.

----------------

That night, Alhaitham had a vivid dream, one he could recall with disturbing detail. 

You and Alhaitham sat underneath the shade, Sumeru roses surrounded the two of you as he hugged you closer to his chest, his rose close enough to your hair that he could breath in your comforting scent while birds chirped, the flowers rustled, and your pages turned while the sun ordained you with it’s warmth. He wasn’t sure for a moment whether the source of the light was you or the sun. He didn’t care. He sighed, one out of comfort rather than fatigue or exacerbation, and you felt it tickling your neck. 

You turned to look at him, smile blinding even as his lips remained in a thin line. You said something, but all his senses centred around his sight, and it was laser focused on your kissable lips. You pouted slightly, before leaning forward and granting him his silent wish. 

As your lips touched his, his fake reality collapsed and he opened his eyes to the fuzzy shape of his room, disoriented at the delusion he had been sucked into. What prompted this dream? A curious question, one he didn’t have a silent clue how to begin answering. He breathed out, swiping his hair back, eyes glancing at the burgeoning morning sky. He wasted hours out of his rest dreaming about you. He’d rather not have dreamt at all. 

He tried to make sense of what had occurred. Meeting you had most likely been the trigger for this dream, but he would need to conduct further analysis.  

Most of Sumeru didn’t dream. Except for soulmarked people, they sometimes dreamt as they were deemed to be closer to deities. This idea was something Alhaitham didn’t buy into, but that’s only one more reason to carry on with this study that he dedicated himself to. Why would he dream of such a warm scene with you when he rejected you with his entire being?

---------------

Alhaitham’s theory, one he nurtured with the pride of a scholar, was that soulmarked people didn’t need their soulmates.

 It’s quite belittling, in his opinion, for one to base their future and value on whether or not they had a mark, and to abandon their individuality based on a mark. Alhaitham had never felt like half of a whole, he had never felt like his cup was half empty, and he frankly didn’t feel lacking. Your presence was thus simply unnecessary. He didn’t desire it, nor need it. 

You were however quite insistent on inserting yourself into his life. 

“As I previously informed you, your presence is quite unneeded. In fact it’s bothersome, can you sit somewhere else?” Alhaitham could not believe that even his favourite spot in his favourite cafe is now being invaded by you. You’re like an invasive species. 

“No, this spot gets the most sunlight. I can’t let you hog it, but I would be willing to offer you a drink as an apology for the huge inconvenience.”

Alhaitham gave you a brief glance, eyes looking to your face for a second, scrutinising you. Your content expression made him swiftly face his book once more. He tried making sense of your move, were you not offended? Did you have no pride? 

When Alhaitham made his stance to you clear, you were too disoriented to rebuttal. What he declared to you was quite unheard of, so he isn’t too surprised. You flashed him a saddened look, not quite heart broken though, and not too discouraged it seemed. You had been pestering him since. 

He surmised now that this was your way of trying to get to know him, accepting a drink means that he forgives you for intruding on his space, and he doesn’t. 

“I don’t want to give you another excuse to stay.” 

“I was never planning to leave Alhaitham. I already have every excuse to stay. Sunshine and a good view.” you said shamelessly, eyes raking his figure.  Alhaitham didn’t look up from his book this time but he could bet that you were looking at your nails nonchalantly. He even found the way you said his name strange, the way you pronounced it was interesting, and he was almost tempted to ask you to say it again just so he could pinpoint the intonations a little more. 

“Such as?” 

Alhaitham didn’t hear you speak for a few seconds, but he paused his reading and looked you in the eye, deadpan and serious. 

“I understand where you’re coming from. You believe being with me would be like, giving in, or something. That you accept that you are somewhat deficient and you need something to fill the gap in you.” you paused then, letting your words sink in with him, he couldn’t hide the way his poker face broke for a second. He certainly wasn’t expecting something insightful right this moment, and perhaps a tiny part of him felt touched that you weren’t undermining his thoughts as people had. 

“But that’s not how I see it, I don’t see you as a person who needs me to complete him. The bond is simply the notion that we complement each other. We are a pair, Alhaitham. You cannot escape it, but being a pair doesn’t mean that we are broken halves of a whole. I wouldn’t be able to be with someone so lacking and neither would you.” 

He let your explanation sink in, disappointment settling in the pit of his stomach. 

“You are overlooking very important variables. It takes so many different factors to shape a person, how could anyone be certain with so many uncontrolled variables that the person will then grow to be their most complementary partner? Maybe my upbringing shaped me in a way that is simply not suitable to you. Maybe there is someone out there that suits you more. But you are letting a mark decide your future, how predictable.” came his reply, scathing, upfront. You seemed to contemplate his words for a few seconds, before slowly nodding. 

“I see, but I will still believe in us. Just as deity’s watch over us and grant us visions, perhaps they are also aware of what our future holds and I will believe in their benevolence in pairing people-” he saw you fidget, saw your eyes avoid his penetrating gaze for two seconds before you resumed, once again resolute “-and just as you are unwavering in your beliefs, I will be unwavering in trying to prove to you that you and me belong together.” 

If Alhaitham was a more emotionally impressionable man, he might’ve described his feelings in this moment as butterflies as you proudly proclaimed your intentions. He isn’t however, and he decided it’s rather an annoyance having you here. 

He went back to his book, deciding this conversation to be over.

--------------

Entry 4, date xx 

It’s unfortunate yet understandable that research guidelines forbid me from using my own personal experience in my research. It won’t deter me from writing these entries, detailing my experience, so that someone in the future picking up this kind of research may have at least one detailed example. It’s hard to find people who do not conform to the standard of being with their soulmates upon discovering them, even if it means divorce, relocation etc. This makes academic studies that challenge the status quo quite difficult. In time, I do believe that people will move to treating soulmarks with more lukewarm expectations. 

My ‘soulmate’, a fellow researcher at the Akademiya, takes a stance quite oppositional to mine. Time did not deter her from pursuing me, nor her endless attempts at gaining my favour. It’s been a hassle, only made me wish I’d been born markless even more. 

Some of her attempts included, but were not limited to

Buying me things. Such as a coffee (one of my more favoured drinks) when I’d fall asleep in the library, and resisting the temptation of consuming the beverage in my disoriented state was quite difficult, and wasteful. Consuming it does not therefore warrant any form of affection. Although it is peculiar that she always managed to find me at my most vulnerable.

Dispelling rumours about me. Quite useless, as I never cared what people said or thought of me, she was better off focusing on her pressing research. This asserts that soulmates are not more suited to each other than any average pair on the street, as assuming we have this telepathic connection would mean that people finding me unapproachable is rather helpful for me. Needless to say this method of hers was the least useful. 

Always talking to me. Though her tactics changed over the years. She no longer makes small talk, or attempts to change my mind. She now attempts to use my hobbies to make my brain associate her with my interests. She brings up books that I’d borrowed, sparks a discussion on them that would leave me no choice but to respond to her avid attempts at dialogue. She impressively did seem to digest the contents of the books quite well, and my enthusiasm when conversing about say, “How Language is a Tool of Policing”, does not equate to my favour. 

Buying me books.

This list seems to be getting needlessly long, and upon further thought it’s rather useless, so I will deign to stop.

-----------------

A group of scholars trekked along the Avidiya forest, mostly Amurta students, so it’s no wonder you are there. Alhaitham is one of the few odd ones out, but considering his penchant for knowledge and innate curiosity, it's no wonder he’s there. Reading about different biological life forms in the rainforest is useful enough, but seeing with his own two eyes is a must. A few samples to test certain herbal effects would also be quite beneficial. 

He looked around, taking in his surroundings. Green eyes took in the scenery, beautiful mosses and grandiose trees, aged and chipped and hanging a shadow over them, so massive that the humans beneath it looked to be of no special significance. 

His eyes inadvertently landed on you. You were bundled closely to another Amurta student, one with fennec fox features. His shoulders were touching yours as his eyes drank up the papers in your hands with curiosity, and you didn’t seem to mind as you smiled and pointed at certain parts, talking animatedly. 

Alhaitham curled up a grey eyebrow at the way the guy’s tail seemed one step away from wagging, what an inconvenient appendage to have. 

He showed his notes to you, pointing at different places in the forest and pointing back to his notes, talking excitedly. You nodded, adding an input here and there, this discussion of yours seems very interesting. Perhaps he should move closer to hear what you and the star of Amurta seem to be discussing with so much excitement.

Alhaitham, who was previously intentionally lagging behind the group, with several steps was within a hearing distance between you and Tighnari. However, he was irked to know that he could hear nothing because you two, although animated, were speaking in hushed tones as if disclosing a secret in broad daylight. 

With carefully measured steps, he weaved himself even closer, but not close enough to arouse suspicion. From this angle, he could see the way the so called star of Amurta’s long conspicuous ears pricked in your direction, unwilling to miss a single word out of your mouth. 

“You’re so lucky Tighnari, Amurta is very lucky to have someone with your constitution, but trying out different mushrooms seems quite fun” you said, starry eyed at the so called Tighnari, all over some mushrooms? Alhaitham knows a lot about rainforest mushrooms, as any scholar should. Maybe the standards for Amurta Darshan are just lower these days. 

“Well you’re in luck, I found a way to minimise the effects of the mushrooms by taking a small sample and boiling it, so if you’re quite interested you can come around to my place so we can test different mushrooms together.” Tighnari said, tone bordering on gloating as he seemed quite prideful in his discovery. 

To Alhaitham’s chagrin, you nodded with child-like excitement, have you taken leave of your senses? This endeavour seems so dangerous and yet you’ve agreed to it without a second thought to your safety, or perhaps there’s another reason for your excitement. 

Alhaitham can imagine it perfectly. You’d look at Tighnari with glassy eyes, flushed appearance, softly panting as you declare that the mushrooms seem especially potent-

No. 

Time spent daydreaming is time wasted, and this same logic applies to thoughts of you. What you get up to is none of his concern, and who you get up to it with as well. He’s not with you in sickness or health, so he cares not if you possess either. 

Alhaitham is despondent at the fact that one cannot tread the rainforest while reading a book. It’s naturally a recipe for disaster, as he might trip and fall and damage his book in an act of foolishness. It’s regrettable however, as your own foolishness has rendered him unable to fully take in his surroundings. 

The group is taken to the camp as the sun bids adieu and the moon illuminates the rainforest in a faint light, making the shadows appear much more ominous as they towered and arched over the students. 

Alhaitham pulled out his book, fully intending to consume his meal with the company of the pages in his hands, but you had other ideas, seeming to finally remember your mission of pestering him whenever you are in his presence. 

“So, how did you find today’s trip?” always starting out with meaningless small talk, perhaps you are hoping he will one day humour you. 

“It’s been great till now.” clipped and curt, as usual. 

“Did you find it informative? It’s been great seeing so many different rainforest life forms. Maybe I should work for a few months here after finishing my thesis, if only to get more acquainted with the life forms. But I won’t do that before I sort things out.” you kept your words vague, but Alhaitham could sense the meaning hidden beneath them. You won’t move until you make this soulmate dream of yours a reality. He’s been rejecting you, and here you are making life plans around him, trying carefully to make him fit in with your plans. Planning the course of your life around him.

Choosing to conceal the reality of his day, he replies with an affirmative hum. You got the memo, choosing to open your packed food and eat, most likely busy with your own thoughts, while Alhaitham entertains his own. 

------------

Entry 90, date xx. 

This might prove to be a complete coincidence, and I’m confused as to why it’s occurring myself, despite my investigations and various attempts at isolating and looking at different variables. 

In the years I have known who my soulmate is, I have been dreaming. Eerily, my dreams usually concern her in one way or the other, so it must be something related to our bond. In my last dream, I can vaguely remember a warm feeling in my belly, as ambiguous as that sounds. I laid my head on her lap, reading, while she soothingly caressed my hair. Disappointingly, I do not recall the contents of the book, only the warm caress of her fingers that lulled me into a feeling of comfort. 

The feelings of my dreams however, I am certain, do not carry on into my daylight hours. 

Maybe I must admit I am somewhat impressed by her tenacity and persistence, perhaps that feeling is causing my subconscious to confuse the nature of our relationship?

-----------------

Alhaitham is tired of whatever farce you are trying to play. 

You are like a migraine to him, your arrival always a nuisance, a pain, and wholly unwelcome. You do not respect his choices, opinions. Your existence frustrates him, and he cares not that you always take great care not to cause him trouble. Your actions, while deceptively helpful, greatly annoy the scribe. 

This year, his attempts at dissuading you have gotten rather harsh. This is because he can no longer afford you indifference. This can be traced back to when you left a cake on his desk. Congratulating him on his new role as scribe. The flavour was not overly sweet, it’s something he would usually enjoy consuming, but the feelings borne within his chest at the sentimental message written on the cake caused him to pause. The moths swarming his belly did not make sense, his response did not make sense. The cogs that always efficiently turned in his head seemed to clog at the thought of you. 

An uncharacteristic rage blinded him that day, he did not feel this way in his life before, and when he sat reflecting on his now emptier desk after harshly dumping the cake in the bin facing his office, he thought that the new found nuisance in his life is more troublesome than he previously predicted. 

One day, a golden opportunity seemed to land on his lap. A one in a million lucky chance. Though Alhaitham thinks a lucky chance is only one if you can reap the benefits it brings you. 

It was a pleasant night, the air, while warm, was comfortable as cooler wind blew inside the tavern and ruffled his hair slightly. He was drinking alone, a choice he made as the comfort of his own thoughts was something he needed. He’d be able to ruminate in peace, had the cause of his irritation not found him once again. 

“Oh my, hi Alhaitham. We keep running into each other, it’s almost like fate huh” you greeted, plopping yourself beside him, calling to the bartender to pass you a drink too, signalling the start of Alhaitham’s misfortune. So nonchalantly confident, your head always held up high around him, as if his attitude towards you is a mere playing hard to get. 

He opened his lips, a scathing reply at the tip of them, until another irritation called out his name jarringly. 

He turned his head, as several others did before minding their own business after briefly casting them curious looks. 

“Soo this is where you spend your time! You could have invited me, you know.” some women from the Akademiya sat to his left, batting her lashes at him in what he assumes is her way of being coy and attractive. 

He was halfway into finishing his drink. It’s a shame he’ll have to retire early as his night no longer holds the promise of peace. However, upon seeing you casting them a curious look, silent for once in your life, he got a much more brilliant idea. 

It takes a genius to turn a stroke of misfortune into a lucky chance. 

Although having never indulged in this sort of useless and amateurish behaviour, likening it to some sort of primitive mating call, Alhaitham is adaptable and a great actor when it comes to securing his own peace. 

“Sorry honey, I’ve been somewhat preoccupied. Surely I can make it up to you” he feigned a cordial look, eyes raking through her figure. She’s not really his type. Her lap didn’t seem comfortable to lay his head on, and even the shape of her fingernails seemed to turn him off. Coincidently, some of your physical features are rather favourable to him, especially the shade of your eyes. Her voice also sounds grating, and he wished she'd never say his name again. But he put up with it, and even went as far is to brush his hand on her upper thigh, his implications clear.

His reply took you and her by surprise, shocked faces at the tone no one heard from the blunt scribe before, but her shock quickly morphed to glee. 

“Of course! I’m not one to hold grudges” she scooted closer to him, and he quickly wondered if this was worth it, or a detour into wasting even more of his time, especially as her hands reached out and touched his shoulder, rendering him wordless with the awkwardness of having to tolerate her invasive touches.

He glanced at you, and your frozen made you look stuck in your spot, in disbelief, surely it’s not preposterous that he might pursue someone else? His lips willfully thinned though, when he saw how your previously frozen eyes melted into a volcano, rage swimmed within them, as your brows scrunched disapprovingly. He’d never seen you look like this, even when he threw all your attempts back in your face all those years. He’d never seen you look like you wished the ground would open and swallow him, and his gut twisted uncomfortably at the thought. 

Perhaps this was all it really took to have you leave him be. He wondered why he never took this approach before. 

He cast furtive glances at the other women speaking, unwilling to break this facade now, but he found that the air after you left seemed much more cold. 

“You can stop bothering me now. Whatever you think could happen between us isn’t going to, but it was amusing seeing you gullible you could be.” he spoke while nursing another drink, his eyes not even meeting hers, though she might find this to be in her benefit. Although his clipped words were missing their usual edge, it still had the desired effect. 

“You jerk, do you think you’re too good for me? I was willing to tolerate your dry personality because you had a pretty face, but your head is bigger than I thought. Bring yourself down to earth, at this rate you’re going to die alone and miserable as you always have been.” 

People’s words never bothered him, and even now they do not. He chooses to live his life the way he chooses, and people’s opinions will never change his pursuit of personal peace. However, he found it interesting that one rejection from him caused her to spout so much venom at him, when years of him doing that to you didn’t have this effect. Is it that you’re patient? Level headed? Kind? Well, more like hopelessly foolish.

---------------

Entry 1023, date xx

For the past month, I haven’t seen much of her. It seems that before, she went out of her way to run into me. Ever since the night at the tavern, her pursuit seemed to end completely. This is what I wanted for years, isn’t it? I have finally achieved the desired results. 

I am still as whole as the day I was born, I don’t feel lacking. I am fine.

-----------

Alhaitham finished up writing the latest entry, closing the journal and putting it inside his drawer. As he stretched, he caught sight of his face. 

His facial hair seems to be growing out, painting his face in a five o’clock shadow. He stroked the coarseness, wondering why he’d missed his usual schedule of trimming. 

He shook the creeping thoughts away, approaching his bed to finally get a much needed rest. He needs to clear the pesky thoughts away, so that he may finally enjoy the books he’s been meaning to read. You’d probably have something insightful to say about them, you usually seemed to. 

Curses, why must his own brain betray him? 

Sleep, when it finally came, was not peaceful. 

He was frantically opening every door in his house, searching for something. Opening doors, searching, repeating.

The violent cycle went on, his heart falling every time his mysterious search reaped nothing. 

He shook awake, panting so loudly that he wondered briefly whether he performed a strenuous exercise in his sleep, if the erratic thumping of his heart was any clue. It banged painfully against his ribs. His hair clung to his forehead, and his face felt suspiciously wet. He needs to calm down, so that he may analyse the cause of his restless sleep and eliminate it. But his brain stubbornly shut down, and Alhaitham's throat traitorously clogged up. 

Deep breath. A  response like this might not be any cause for alarm. Deep breath. Emotional hysterics will solve nothing. Deep breath.

Why do the walls feel like they are closing in on him?

-------------------

It’s been 4 months and 6 days since Alhaitham saw you. Or heard from you. 

This period is incredibly unusual, you never went so long without speaking to him. Is the thought of him pursuing another woman truly all it took to throw you off? Perhaps he gave your persistence undeserving credit. He wishes he could hear your thoughts, stumble into a journal of yours. If only to see whether his hypothesis proved right, that once you realised this you too came to your senses and realised you could lead a happy life without him. 

His inability to know filled him with bitterness, yet why is he feeling such when he prided himself on only speculating things of importance? His frustration made him gnaw on his lips. 

“I do think they look good together, she should take her chance with him” 

Dimwits gossiping in the library might be the last straw, why is it that people can’t save their idle chatter for a more appropriate place?

“Yeah, but doesn’t (y/n) have a soulmark? This could end disastrously.”

What?

“Yeah but, it’s quite rare for soulmates to find each other nowadays, she shouldn’t waste her chance because of something that might never be.” 

Who? And when did this happen?

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

Alhaitham’s brain, if possible, might melt. An overload of thoughts, information, noises, all overstimulating him. But if he thought hard enough, it’s quite clear that this is another tactic of yours. You’ve gotten quite clever. It cannot be a mere coincidence that this gossip found its way to his ears, you must be trying to ignite some irrational feeling within him, jealousy. 

Too bad he’ll never give you the satisfaction of seeing him this way. 

He closed his book, a mere decoration at this point, and walked out of the library, thinking a walk would help clear his head. 

“Yeah, he seems quite taken by her, I think he is seriously courting her.”

No matter what hallway he’s in, what direction he pivots to, the building of the Akademiya itself seems to be buzzing with talks of you and some guy. You’ve put a lot of effort into this farce of yours, did you take in the consequences? When this blows over, your dignity as a scholar would surely never recover. You’d be known as a gossipmonger. 

Days have passed however, and the talk showed no sign of stopping. You and a wealthy sponsor of the Akademiya, who hails from Fontaine. He’d fallen in love with you, is courting you, and everything trivial inbetween. When did you even have time to catch the eye of someone so apparently important? It’s implausible, and incredibly petty. 

Why are you nowhere to be found now? 

--------------

Statistically, Alhaitham knows that it’s impossible not to have run into you by now. Unless you have been going out of your way to avoid him. He even changed his usual seating spot in the library, thinking that maybe he’d find you away from his corner. He’s been roaming in the city the past month more than he had in a year. 

The worst thing is that he didn’t understand why he was going so far to find you. It defied logic itself, his persistence. It’s none of his business what you do, so he should give up while he’s at it. Come back to his senses, and live out his peace. 

You seemed to haunt him though, and as his tired teal eyes roamed the cafe on his way once more, fate seemed to drop him a little trinket. 

He squinted his eyes, seeing the familiarly patterned, maroon scarf that you always wore when it got a bit chilly. He rushed inside the cafe, eyes zeroed on it. Before looking outside once more in search of your figure. He’d probably just missed you. 

The rational choice would be to hand over the scarf to the workers, you’d probably come in search of it, but before rationale could halt him, he took the scarf and left, but not before catching a whiff of your familiar scent. 

This would give him a reasonable excuse to talk to you, you can’t refuse an act of goodwill from him right? He thought back, trying to find a single moment in which he’d done you a favour and not the reverse. 

His stomach sank as he realised that he’d in fact never done a single act of goodwill towards you, he’d spared you nothing but harsh words of rejection and belittlement. 

Perhaps this is why he’s been searching for you, to try and ease this feeling of guilt that hasn’t left him since you completely erased your existence out of his life. You’d made home in every corner of his life, trying to make it a little more bearable. You were a sacrifice to his philosophy, it couldn’t be any other way, because Alhaitham is equally stubborn, he’d never give in to the will of someone else who’s ordained how he must live his life. 

But for now, he’ll take this scarf home, knowing deep down that he doesn’t intend to return it. 

-------------

Alhaitham sat on the couch near his bed, watching perplexed as you made out with a clone of him. Your fingers tangled in his grey strands, beautiful, naked body straddling him, as if you were trying to become one with him, merge your being with his so that he may never try and discard you. Your lips moulded with his own, and he’d returned the favour with equal fervour. 

Only, his grey hair began darkening from the roots down, becoming a pitch black colour. You pulled away, and he watched horrified as his clone’s face melted like clay, only to be reconstructed as the face of a stranger. You however appeared indifferent, eyes soulless and lacking the tenacity you seemed to possess earlier. 

He stood up to try and take you away, but an invisible force pulled him back, leaving him only to thrash while a stranger held you, and you let him. 

You let the stranger cradle your body, indifference melting into a bittersweet smile as your lips found his. 

Alhaitham’s eyes stung, and he tried closing them to shield himself from the sight as you let a stranger make love to you, but he couldn’t. His eyes were made to be peeled wide upon as he watched and heard you, and his wrist burned, heart ached. But through it all, he’d only wished that you’d stop and look at him again. 

But you didn’t, your eyes didn’t leave the stranger's body, not until they rolled back in ecstasy while you used his body for your pleasure. The strangers hands caressed you, and strummed your pleasure to a tune that only produced the most melodious sounds out of you. 

Tears started falling down his cheeks. But he still couldn’t close his eyes. 

Alhaitham opened his eyes, feeling like a dam had broken on his pillow as the moistness in his eyes blurred his vision. 

He rubbed his tears away, but they wouldn’t stop, not for as long as he remembered his nightmare. You, so close, making love to someone else while he was forced to watch and hear. 

Why did he have to be tormented even in dreams? 

His heart hammered away so loudly that it felt like drums to his ears, his lungs refused to operate as an unbearable feeling of pain overwhelmed him. He pulled his knees to his chest as he willed his shivering to stop, the moon staring mercilessly at him as he rocked back and forth. 

He suddenly remembered a find of his, and with a blurry vision he fished out your scarf, holding it up to his nose to breathe in the scent he’d been denied. He rubbed away his tears, not wanting to stain your scarf with it, and like something beyond reason his tears had stopped. 

His sleep was dreamless after that. 

-------------

Entry 1800, date xx 

Dreams have been tormenting my nights, and reality torments my day. Why does it feel like I’m being continuously punished? Were my ideas so cardinally sinful that the deity’s above have taken to cause me misery? 

I have once again devolved to foolish thoughts. It’s my thoughts that torment me, not any higher power. 

If she’s anything to go by, then I guess my hypothesis has been proven correct. She no longer seeks me out, hasn’t done so in 8 months. When I catch a glimpse of her, it’s so brief it’s almost like a phantom. I do hear of her though, that she’s happy with another man. That they might move back to Fontaine together at this rate, that this might not be fling. She’d succeeded in something no one has succeeded at before her. She left her soulmate behind and pursued her own path. I was never needed.

The idea that she might move to Fontaine is rather far fetched though, as she is still a researcher, and this is but only one relationship. Moving to a completely new homeland to pursue such a fresh relationship is completely spontaneous and irresponsible. Especially considering she would need to abandon many of her projects. 

They will most likely break up, they might not, only time will tell. But for the time being, she seems to have moved on.

-----------

Alhaitham’s haggard figure trekked through the Sumeru, eyes a dull green that looked sombre as he glanced through the stalls. Malnutrition is the most likely cause of the way he’s had no energy lately, even his bones seemed to ache in protest. 

With a fresh bag of groceries in hand, Alhaitham walked back home, eyes downcast and somewhat soulless. He needs to cook today, needs to eat something and get on with his life. He needs to. 

With his downcast eyes and general disinterest, he almost missed the crowd of awed bystanders forming a ring around two people. With one furtive glance, he deemed it not worth his time, until he caught sight of the second star of the show. 

It’s you. Standing there. It’s finally you. Light seemed to come back to his eyes, if only for a brief second before horror overtook them. 

It’s you, standing there, with a man kneeling on the floor proposing to you. A crowd of people all around you two, smiling, anticipating, gasping. 

It’s you, nodding your head as another man puts a ring on your finger, his pitch dark hair and features nothing like Alhaitham, with one look Alhaitham can surmise that he’s everything Alhaitham could never be. His smiling face charms everyone in sight, he’s like a star that everyone wants to be near to bask in his aura. 

Alhaitham doesn’t have the vocabulary to describe such a raw feeling with medical terms, but if he can be sentimental, he might be able to say that his soul hurts.

------------

Dear (y/n), 

The Akademiya is currently lacking in capable personnel, and as the scribe I had been entrusted with alleviating this issue using records of capable individuals. You had many great works under your belt, and I understand that our personal matters might’ve driven you away to Fontaine, but I find it rather immature that you’d go so far and abandon your responsibilities to pursue a relationship. 

Please consider coming back, as the Akademiya is willing to offer you a new position that you might find to be to your liking, the job benefits are numerous such as a large residence in Sumeru and a very high salary with many days of paid leave. Please contact me for more information. 

Alhaitham 

-----------------

 Dear (y/n), 

I have received your letter of rejection. 

Perhaps the salary wasn’t to your liking? The Akademiya is willing to double it, all your research projects will be fully funded and approved and you may pick up where you left off without any hassle. Any additional requirements could be negotiated, it would surely not be ideal to disregard such a promising career and job title in the Darshan you have dedicated years to. 

I apologise for any harsh words I have previously said to you, sometimes, well, most times my pride gets the best of me and I end up hurting people with my words. I would like to say that I never meant to hurt you, but at the time I did and I do feel quite regretful. Our personal matters should never be a reason for you to reject such a great offer. I understand that you are in a committed relationship, but you shouldn’t be discouraged to pursue other paths so early on in your life. 

Alhaitham

--------------

Dear (y/n), 

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I would apologise for every second I disregarded you if it means you might come back. I would give you anything. I’m sorry I didn’t before, and that it took me so long. 

I’m pathetic, foolish, unworthy, and every derogatory term on this earth. But I also love you. I’m sorry it took having nothing of you in my life but a scarf you’d forgotten to realise that I love you.

When I sit in the corner of the library, I always save a seat next to me, hoping by some miracle you’d show up again. That you’d sit there again, laughing, smiling at me like you’d sucked all the warmth out of the sun, and this time I’d smile at you back until my cheeks hurt because you have come to mean happiness to me. 

I’ve loved you for every single year I’d known you, and for every single season, there was no one ever but you. Please believe me, I’d never pursued any relationships, it was only ever you that occupied my heart and thoughts. That woman you saw at the tavern wasn’t someone I was seeing, and I rejected her after, even if this meagre show of loyalty is too little too late. I was a fool that day, I was angry at my feelings, at the way my heart and brain were in complete incoordination that I took her advances to try and hurt you. I didn’t even touch her, she meant nothing to me, I wish I didn’t show up to the tavern that day so then maybe you’d still be in my life. 

Nothing fills the vacuum you left behind, my heart. I cried so much the day you left that it felt like I’d never stop crying. 

I tried to deny something so wonderful, and when my wish was granted I declared that I want you back. You must think I’m the most selfish man you’ve ever known. I might be. I’m sorry I rejected you and denied my feelings for so long, but please, will you come back and return the colour to my life? I will never take you for granted again. 

Please come back, I’m begging you. 

Alhaitham

-------------

Alhaitham walked around the labyrinth, nothing but the moonlight guiding him on his quest to find you. He’s frantic, rushing around from one dead end to another. 

And then he finds you, laying there, in the centre, bushes and greenery enveloping you, and you seemed happy to see him, because your cheeks quirked up and eyes crinkled in a smile that he’d been deprived of for long enough to realise it’s as essential as oxygen to him. 

He ran to you, breaking you free of your binds, enveloping you in his arms before kissing your lips in reverence as if he worships you. He kisses you, not stopping until he realises that you aren’t responding, and that you’ve gone cold in his arms.

-----------------

Alhaitham stared at the piling documents in front of him, eyes bloodshot and blurry. He’s glad that no one usually approaches him, for he must look like he squabble with the grim reaper last night. 

He sighed, hand going to his chest, rubbing it in a vain attempt to soothe the ache there. You didn’t reply to any of his letters. Why would you? He’s truly a piece of work to attempt to contact you after all he’s done to you over the years. 

He doesn’t know how long he can go on like this, but he knows for certain that he’s become the villain of his own story. His hubris and pride have pulled him down to a hell that he lives in everyday. He mocked soul mates all his life for travelling for miles to be together, for quitting jobs, getting divorced, all for a fated person. Alhaitham cannot look down on them any more, because if you don’t respond to him soon he will run to Fontaine and grovel until you spare him a single glance, and then he will finally feel like he’s found his Oasis after being stuck in a never ending desert. 

It feels like a knife stabbing his chest whenever he thinks of you in another land, married to another man, loving him and being loved by him in a way Alhaitham will never experience. But he brought this on himself, how can he blame you? He drove you into someone else’s arms. 

He touched his forehead, feeling somewhat feverish. He’s felt drained the past few weeks, but especially so after the dream he’d last had. His entire body is aching, and his breaths feel shallow, but if he plans to try to go to Fontaine he’d better start working now. 

Alhaitham opens the documents on his desk, diligently working on one after the other until his eyes land on the freshest arrivals. 

Alhaitham doesn’t fully remember what happened after that, but he remembers reading the words that shattered his entire world before his vision faded to black. 

“The student and faculty body is urgently requesting the papers to be processed to allow the body of (y/n) to be transferred to Sumeru to be buried in her homeland after her tragic murder. please…”

--------------

Alhaitham opened his eyes to an unfamiliar sight, the air felt sanitised and the sheets scratchy, alarming him to abruptly sit up, causing his head to feel light and vision to get hazy again. 

A nurse rushed over to him, calming him down and informing him of his condition. 

He was fatigued and had a fever, overwork and a mental shock took a toll on him and he passed out. That won’t do, he must get back to work so he can go after (y/n). 

(y/n)... 

His brain was refusing to process what he read, it must be a sick joke. A fucked up prank. You’re in Fontaine, happy and married, or perhaps still engaged. He hopes you’re still only engaged. 

He turns to the nurse who still held a worried look on her face, brown eyes crinkled in worry over a stranger. You’d give him this look sometimes too. 

“I’m alright. I’m going home to rest now.” he didn’t. 

He went back to the Akademiya, back to his office, to check that this was not reality, only one of the many nightmares that had been haunting him. He wasn’t the most devout man in his life, but for the first time in his life he made a prayer. Please let him have another chance, please don’t make him live this, don’t take her away from me this way.

Fate was cruel. 

Alhaitham faced the reality living out before him. He looked down, his wrist trembling, he’s been so afraid to look for the longest time, knowing he undeserving he was of it, but now he needs to, he needs to confirm. 

He turned his wrist, the mark on it has lost all colour, it’s now darker than any night Alhaitham had lived.

------------------

You left this world, he chants in his head, rocking back and forth. 

His room looked like a testament of destruction, everything was smashed, papers ripped, books destroyed, everything he faced didn’t survive to tell the tale. 

You left him alone in this world. 

The house and Sumeru itself never felt too big for one person, but now he feels like he’s drowning amidst the populace, his world never felt duller and more lonely, he faintly remembers a familiar pricking of loneliness when his grandmother passed. The mere prick had transformed into a tidal wave that’s drowning him under, and Alhaitham can’t breath amidst the saltwater. 

Did you even read his letters? Did you at least die knowing he loves you? 

He holds his pounding head in his hands, crushed at the thought of you dying with the thought that he doesn’t care about you. Did you forgive him as you took your last breath? Or did you despise him tenfold? 

You were killed, how could anyone think of hurting you? Since when was the world so cruel? 

It’s all Alhaitham’s fault, if he hadn’t pushed you towards that man, you would never have left with him, if only he thought for a second, if only his hubris didn’t cloud his logic. 

His heart had died that day, but he couldn’t find it in him to stand up and attend the funeral.

-----------------

“This is the book that brought us together my love, I still remember. If I recall far enough I can even describe the feeling of your fingers brushing against mine.” Alhaitham mutters, making himself comfortable beside you, this is the closest he will get to reading in your embrace, so he might as well make himself comfortable against the harsh slab of rock that has become your home. 

“I should have let you have it, or perhaps suggested we read it together? I should have invited you to pupsa cafe that day and introduced you as my soulmate to the owner. I can’t undo that, no longer am I able to agonise about the past, so now this is my attempt of redoing it. I hope you can forgive me.” he said, tracing the soil as tears lined his lashes, he brought you some flowers too, this is his first time bringing you flowers. 

“I’ll read the book out to you, alright?” and so Alhaitham flicks the book open. 

He reads out until his throat hurts, and the position of the sun changes, until the wind becomes more biting and harsh, and the song of nature becomes louder. He’s got the protection of your scarf, but it pains him even more that your scent has nearly fully faded away. 

He flicks the book closed, asking you about it, but of course you can never respond, nor can you even hear him when you're resting in silence six feet under. 

Humans are truly curious creatures, Alhaitham can admit he’s no exception. Their actions can never be truly calculated, uncontrolled variables cloud their existence. Most people accept the benefits that come with having a chosen one ordained by the stars, they weep in joy as a fated lover sweeps them under. 

Some like Alhaitham do not. They justify the rationale of a lonely existence, disregard a fate carved for them by an unknown force, they refuse to become one with the herd. However, one doesn’t discover true loneliness until they discover what it’s like to bask in the joys of companionship. Such simple acts like drinking coffee together while you both read, the comfort of knowing that you’re always nearby, ready to intervene when you think life is becoming too troublesome for him, the celebratory gifts, the laughs and smiles, they are all so incredibly mundane. But love is not so otherworldly, because if so, then the masses would never get to experience it. Your simple acts of love towards him are things he shall never experience again. The truth, something he always pursued with endless disregard for people’s feelings, is now too bitter for him to accept. 

Did Alhaitham’s world always look so grey? Why is loss so hard to comprehend? It might have something to do with the fact that you were never his to lose. 

He’s like a child, chasing after a kite that he can never have within his grasp again, nature’s will is too strong. 

The people at the Akademiya have moved on, tales and gossip surrounding your death dimmed from gasp-inducing tales to idle chatter, and now time has moved on and you were simply a topic out of season. It makes him mad, the way your friends can so easily laugh without looking at the vacant spot in their groups, how could the world so easily move on when Alhaitham is still left behind, clinging on to an outdated calendar?

His anger has long disappeared though, it left nothing but the bitter sting of regret, regret for what wasn’t and for what now couldn’t be. It took him too long to realise that the bentos dumped in trashes could have been dinners he came home to, made not expertly but with love. That seeing you barefoot in his kitchen after he left his work on the dot was a daydream worth chasing after. He grips the flask in his hand, throat feeling parched for release, mind desperate to finally leave this nightmare behind and rest.

“They say soulmates are binded in every life, their souls marking their bodies in an attempt to find their missing half. Do you think in the next life, we can be together? It’s too cruel to think that this is the end, so I entertain myself with such musings sometimes to comfort myself.”

Too preoccupied and swarmed with thoughts, Alhaitham failed to notice the shadow approaching him until its figure stood in front of him. He lifts his head, taking in the elderly lady who’s gentle countenance and wise wrinkled eyes reminded him so much of his grandmother that he nearly asked for an embrace. 

“Are you alright young man, you’ve been in this cold for a while haven’t you? I’m sure your loved one would want you to be happy and warm.'' Her soothing tone nearly made Alhaitham break into sobs, confessing that he’s never known warmth since you took all of it away when you became cold. He became cold too, after all he is your other half. 

He smiled, a smile so sincere that it looked off on his usually sombre face, and a hint of warmth seemed to return to him. He fingered the flask in his hand, his eyes hinting the grief bottled up inside of him. 

“Don’t worry, I will be, it shouldn’t take too long.”

----------------

“It’s been several years since the tragedy of the couple in mention, and while a difficult decision, we have decided a few months ago to look at their case to study the phenomenon of soulmates and their correlation to dreaming.” The aged lecturer spoke, voice low and hinting at the deep seriousness of the matter. The hall is silent, many having memories of the two, and while the murder of (y/n) shook many to their core, the unseen bond that you had to the Akademiya’s scribe made the tale truly a tragedy. Others, the more clueless ones who didn’t quite know the two, cast curious glances around. With time, there will be no need to pay homage to the tragedy of the matter, your bond will not be commemorated for how loving or sad it was, but it will be documented for Academic research. In a way, you and Alhaitham will live on and be remembered as a pair, though not the way either of you intended. 

“The various notes left behind by the two, Alhaitham’s in particular, took especially long to go through, and some transcriptions had to be salvaged. This study proved useful to the hypothesis that soulmates are more prone to dreaming because of the connection that they share. Many researchers have gone further to assert that it might be that the link between them links their subconscious and the hyper activity across this link stimulates shared dreams. The feelings of the pair experienced during daylight muddled together during their sleep-” the lecturer pauses to take a deep breath, flicking through the lecture notes “-and produced dreams that were shared by the two, and seemed to be directly influenced by both their feelings.” he let that information sink in before resuming. 

“For example, as seen in page 34, Alhaitham  was avid in documenting anything related to his soulmate, yet it seemed he was completely unaware, as most people wouldn’t be, that the day he dreamt of her having intercourse with someone else was the same day that she in fact did. We can thus somewhat deduce that this dream was influenced by her feelings regarding the-” he paused momentarily, thinking of an appropriate phrasing “-her feelings regarding the act.” 

“The dreams they had, interestingly, sometimes reflected their feelings towards each other more honestly than their daylight hours and dialogue. Their bond can never be broken by rejection, it seemed. They still found a way of subconsciously communicating. Their case has become a hot topic of research, especially in regards to soulmates and dreams respectively.” 

The lecturer felt somewhat forlorn, knowing that endless lecture notes on the two came at the expense of something they will never get to experience. 

[spice-chan]

Your Form parted from my Sober Mind

Alhaitham x fem!reader

Summary: Alhaitham was not an idealist, but he would fight tooth and nail for his ideals. A soulmate, in particular, conflicts with them.

word count: 10k

tags/warnings: soulmate au. this is dark. dead dove do not eat. rejection. mentions of murder. implications/implied of suicide. there's death in this fic (I'm trying not to spoil things here). Many different narrative styles, but it's all mainly from Alhaitham's POV. kind of mutual pining? mention of marriage. dreams are a reoccurring motif. implied sex, not too explicit but the act is described in enough detail

authors note: I came back from the dead...and made Frankenstein's monster.

“Then from his closing eyes thy form shall part,

And the last pang shall tear thee from his heart,” 

Alexander Pope, Elegy to The Memory of An Unfortunate Lady.

While everyone succumbs to a paradigm, that soulmarked people are irrevocably tied to one person, they are neglecting to consider alternatives. This consensus is harming the growth of Academia, and stunting further discoveries. Conducting further research on the phenomenon of soulmates is near impossible, because participation is scarce, as soulmarked people are very complacent, willing to take a backseat in their own future. I, as a soulmarked person, refuse to believe that some supreme deity is more aware of my own preferences and needs than I. In time, I shall prove that, and rewrite the way people view soulmates as we know it. 

-Alhaitham

-----------------

Alhaitham sighed as he trudged through the house of Daena, eyes searching for the book that he had been trying to borrow for the past few weeks. Not that he needed it, his grande personal collection spoke otherwise, but he had already gone through everything, his books more creased and spines wrinkled as evidence of his excessive care. He wished to borrow something new. Now if only the book didn’t seem to surge in popularity. 

His eyes landed on the book, long legs striding to it with purpose, it was to be his for the two weeks duration, until a hand reached for it at the same time. 

A spark ignited between your outstretched hands, however he didn’t feel repelled, rather the sensation seemed to send a comforting warmth to his heart that signalled safety to him. 

This moment would become engraved in his memory, when his teal eyes landed on yours for the first time, he’d never cared to describe people’s physical appearances beyond what would be convenient to him, but yours seemed to be an endless pit of water that he could drown in. 

Alhaitham staggered back a step, eyes panicked as his eyes searched for your wrist, heart sinking in dread as he saw the matching mark, now pulsing as it found its match. You appeared shocked as you took in this new found development, but by contrast, your lips curved up into a shy smile that he refused to admit was kind of beautiful. 

“Oh my god” 

You stepped forward, eyes curving down to look to his wrist and your smile blossomed even more as you confirmed it. Your happiness was however abruptly cut as he shoved his hand inside his pocket, moving past you to grab the book you two were previously gunning for. 

“Well, I’ll be taking this.” he said, leaving you standing there. He wondered what you looked like standing there alone, in the house of Daena, seeing the owner of the mark matching yours dismissing you. It was quite unheard of, soulmates were usually quite eager, and the first meetings were always recounted as something magical. He wasn’t eager to join the herd though. This is how it was meant to be, two souls parting at the bypass, because he was not obligated to pivot his direction to match yours. 

A thought struck him, his dread transforming to excitement. Soulmate studies had always steered clear of a certain direction, the road always seeming to carry an invisible hazardous warning that discouraged even the most willful scholars. Perhaps one is all it takes to finally discard the sign, ditched like an unseasonal winter coat on a summery day. One person who could prove that he is not willing to give in to the will of the Gods. 

He looked at the mark on his wrist, no longer pulsing, his face impassive, stony, not betraying his inner dilemma. Possibilities flashed before his eyes, calculations, uncertainties. He shoved his wrist back in his pocket, the eyesore taunting him with its vibrant hue, marked on his skin like an inevitable reality.

----------------

That night, Alhaitham had a vivid dream, one he could recall with disturbing detail. 

You and Alhaitham sat underneath the shade, Sumeru roses surrounded the two of you as he hugged you closer to his chest, his rose close enough to your hair that he could breath in your comforting scent while birds chirped, the flowers rustled, and your pages turned while the sun ordained you with it’s warmth. He wasn’t sure for a moment whether the source of the light was you or the sun. He didn’t care. He sighed, one out of comfort rather than fatigue or exacerbation, and you felt it tickling your neck. 

You turned to look at him, smile blinding even as his lips remained in a thin line. You said something, but all his senses centred around his sight, and it was laser focused on your kissable lips. You pouted slightly, before leaning forward and granting him his silent wish. 

As your lips touched his, his fake reality collapsed and he opened his eyes to the fuzzy shape of his room, disoriented at the delusion he had been sucked into. What prompted this dream? A curious question, one he didn’t have a silent clue how to begin answering. He breathed out, swiping his hair back, eyes glancing at the burgeoning morning sky. He wasted hours out of his rest dreaming about you. He’d rather not have dreamt at all. 

He tried to make sense of what had occurred. Meeting you had most likely been the trigger for this dream, but he would need to conduct further analysis.  

Most of Sumeru didn’t dream. Except for soulmarked people, they sometimes dreamt as they were deemed to be closer to deities. This idea was something Alhaitham didn’t buy into, but that’s only one more reason to carry on with this study that he dedicated himself to. Why would he dream of such a warm scene with you when he rejected you with his entire being?

---------------

Alhaitham’s theory, one he nurtured with the pride of a scholar, was that soulmarked people didn’t need their soulmates.

 It’s quite belittling, in his opinion, for one to base their future and value on whether or not they had a mark, and to abandon their individuality based on a mark. Alhaitham had never felt like half of a whole, he had never felt like his cup was half empty, and he frankly didn’t feel lacking. Your presence was thus simply unnecessary. He didn’t desire it, nor need it. 

You were however quite insistent on inserting yourself into his life. 

“As I previously informed you, your presence is quite unneeded. In fact it’s bothersome, can you sit somewhere else?” Alhaitham could not believe that even his favourite spot in his favourite cafe is now being invaded by you. You’re like an invasive species. 

“No, this spot gets the most sunlight. I can’t let you hog it, but I would be willing to offer you a drink as an apology for the huge inconvenience.”

Alhaitham gave you a brief glance, eyes looking to your face for a second, scrutinising you. Your content expression made him swiftly face his book once more. He tried making sense of your move, were you not offended? Did you have no pride? 

When Alhaitham made his stance to you clear, you were too disoriented to rebuttal. What he declared to you was quite unheard of, so he isn’t too surprised. You flashed him a saddened look, not quite heart broken though, and not too discouraged it seemed. You had been pestering him since. 

He surmised now that this was your way of trying to get to know him, accepting a drink means that he forgives you for intruding on his space, and he doesn’t. 

“I don’t want to give you another excuse to stay.” 

“I was never planning to leave Alhaitham. I already have every excuse to stay. Sunshine and a good view.” you said shamelessly, eyes raking his figure.  Alhaitham didn’t look up from his book this time but he could bet that you were looking at your nails nonchalantly. He even found the way you said his name strange, the way you pronounced it was interesting, and he was almost tempted to ask you to say it again just so he could pinpoint the intonations a little more. 

“Such as?” 

Alhaitham didn’t hear you speak for a few seconds, but he paused his reading and looked you in the eye, deadpan and serious. 

“I understand where you’re coming from. You believe being with me would be like, giving in, or something. That you accept that you are somewhat deficient and you need something to fill the gap in you.” you paused then, letting your words sink in with him, he couldn’t hide the way his poker face broke for a second. He certainly wasn’t expecting something insightful right this moment, and perhaps a tiny part of him felt touched that you weren’t undermining his thoughts as people had. 

“But that’s not how I see it, I don’t see you as a person who needs me to complete him. The bond is simply the notion that we complement each other. We are a pair, Alhaitham. You cannot escape it, but being a pair doesn’t mean that we are broken halves of a whole. I wouldn’t be able to be with someone so lacking and neither would you.” 

He let your explanation sink in, disappointment settling in the pit of his stomach. 

“You are overlooking very important variables. It takes so many different factors to shape a person, how could anyone be certain with so many uncontrolled variables that the person will then grow to be their most complementary partner? Maybe my upbringing shaped me in a way that is simply not suitable to you. Maybe there is someone out there that suits you more. But you are letting a mark decide your future, how predictable.” came his reply, scathing, upfront. You seemed to contemplate his words for a few seconds, before slowly nodding. 

“I see, but I will still believe in us. Just as deity’s watch over us and grant us visions, perhaps they are also aware of what our future holds and I will believe in their benevolence in pairing people-” he saw you fidget, saw your eyes avoid his penetrating gaze for two seconds before you resumed, once again resolute “-and just as you are unwavering in your beliefs, I will be unwavering in trying to prove to you that you and me belong together.” 

If Alhaitham was a more emotionally impressionable man, he might’ve described his feelings in this moment as butterflies as you proudly proclaimed your intentions. He isn’t however, and he decided it’s rather an annoyance having you here. 

He went back to his book, deciding this conversation to be over.

--------------

Entry 4, date xx 

It’s unfortunate yet understandable that research guidelines forbid me from using my own personal experience in my research. It won’t deter me from writing these entries, detailing my experience, so that someone in the future picking up this kind of research may have at least one detailed example. It’s hard to find people who do not conform to the standard of being with their soulmates upon discovering them, even if it means divorce, relocation etc. This makes academic studies that challenge the status quo quite difficult. In time, I do believe that people will move to treating soulmarks with more lukewarm expectations. 

My ‘soulmate’, a fellow researcher at the Akademiya, takes a stance quite oppositional to mine. Time did not deter her from pursuing me, nor her endless attempts at gaining my favour. It’s been a hassle, only made me wish I’d been born markless even more. 

Some of her attempts included, but were not limited to

Buying me things. Such as a coffee (one of my more favoured drinks) when I’d fall asleep in the library, and resisting the temptation of consuming the beverage in my disoriented state was quite difficult, and wasteful. Consuming it does not therefore warrant any form of affection. Although it is peculiar that she always managed to find me at my most vulnerable.

Dispelling rumours about me. Quite useless, as I never cared what people said or thought of me, she was better off focusing on her pressing research. This asserts that soulmates are not more suited to each other than any average pair on the street, as assuming we have this telepathic connection would mean that people finding me unapproachable is rather helpful for me. Needless to say this method of hers was the least useful. 

Always talking to me. Though her tactics changed over the years. She no longer makes small talk, or attempts to change my mind. She now attempts to use my hobbies to make my brain associate her with my interests. She brings up books that I’d borrowed, sparks a discussion on them that would leave me no choice but to respond to her avid attempts at dialogue. She impressively did seem to digest the contents of the books quite well, and my enthusiasm when conversing about say, “How Language is a Tool of Policing”, does not equate to my favour. 

Buying me books.

This list seems to be getting needlessly long, and upon further thought it’s rather useless, so I will deign to stop.

-----------------

A group of scholars trekked along the Avidiya forest, mostly Amurta students, so it’s no wonder you are there. Alhaitham is one of the few odd ones out, but considering his penchant for knowledge and innate curiosity, it's no wonder he’s there. Reading about different biological life forms in the rainforest is useful enough, but seeing with his own two eyes is a must. A few samples to test certain herbal effects would also be quite beneficial. 

He looked around, taking in his surroundings. Green eyes took in the scenery, beautiful mosses and grandiose trees, aged and chipped and hanging a shadow over them, so massive that the humans beneath it looked to be of no special significance. 

His eyes inadvertently landed on you. You were bundled closely to another Amurta student, one with fennec fox features. His shoulders were touching yours as his eyes drank up the papers in your hands with curiosity, and you didn’t seem to mind as you smiled and pointed at certain parts, talking animatedly. 

Alhaitham curled up a grey eyebrow at the way the guy’s tail seemed one step away from wagging, what an inconvenient appendage to have. 

He showed his notes to you, pointing at different places in the forest and pointing back to his notes, talking excitedly. You nodded, adding an input here and there, this discussion of yours seems very interesting. Perhaps he should move closer to hear what you and the star of Amurta seem to be discussing with so much excitement.

Alhaitham, who was previously intentionally lagging behind the group, with several steps was within a hearing distance between you and Tighnari. However, he was irked to know that he could hear nothing because you two, although animated, were speaking in hushed tones as if disclosing a secret in broad daylight. 

With carefully measured steps, he weaved himself even closer, but not close enough to arouse suspicion. From this angle, he could see the way the so called star of Amurta’s long conspicuous ears pricked in your direction, unwilling to miss a single word out of your mouth. 

“You’re so lucky Tighnari, Amurta is very lucky to have someone with your constitution, but trying out different mushrooms seems quite fun” you said, starry eyed at the so called Tighnari, all over some mushrooms? Alhaitham knows a lot about rainforest mushrooms, as any scholar should. Maybe the standards for Amurta Darshan are just lower these days. 

“Well you’re in luck, I found a way to minimise the effects of the mushrooms by taking a small sample and boiling it, so if you’re quite interested you can come around to my place so we can test different mushrooms together.” Tighnari said, tone bordering on gloating as he seemed quite prideful in his discovery. 

To Alhaitham’s chagrin, you nodded with child-like excitement, have you taken leave of your senses? This endeavour seems so dangerous and yet you’ve agreed to it without a second thought to your safety, or perhaps there’s another reason for your excitement. 

Alhaitham can imagine it perfectly. You’d look at Tighnari with glassy eyes, flushed appearance, softly panting as you declare that the mushrooms seem especially potent-

No. 

Time spent daydreaming is time wasted, and this same logic applies to thoughts of you. What you get up to is none of his concern, and who you get up to it with as well. He’s not with you in sickness or health, so he cares not if you possess either. 

Alhaitham is despondent at the fact that one cannot tread the rainforest while reading a book. It’s naturally a recipe for disaster, as he might trip and fall and damage his book in an act of foolishness. It’s regrettable however, as your own foolishness has rendered him unable to fully take in his surroundings. 

The group is taken to the camp as the sun bids adieu and the moon illuminates the rainforest in a faint light, making the shadows appear much more ominous as they towered and arched over the students. 

Alhaitham pulled out his book, fully intending to consume his meal with the company of the pages in his hands, but you had other ideas, seeming to finally remember your mission of pestering him whenever you are in his presence. 

“So, how did you find today’s trip?” always starting out with meaningless small talk, perhaps you are hoping he will one day humour you. 

“It’s been great till now.” clipped and curt, as usual. 

“Did you find it informative? It’s been great seeing so many different rainforest life forms. Maybe I should work for a few months here after finishing my thesis, if only to get more acquainted with the life forms. But I won’t do that before I sort things out.” you kept your words vague, but Alhaitham could sense the meaning hidden beneath them. You won’t move until you make this soulmate dream of yours a reality. He’s been rejecting you, and here you are making life plans around him, trying carefully to make him fit in with your plans. Planning the course of your life around him.

Choosing to conceal the reality of his day, he replies with an affirmative hum. You got the memo, choosing to open your packed food and eat, most likely busy with your own thoughts, while Alhaitham entertains his own. 

------------

Entry 90, date xx. 

This might prove to be a complete coincidence, and I’m confused as to why it’s occurring myself, despite my investigations and various attempts at isolating and looking at different variables. 

In the years I have known who my soulmate is, I have been dreaming. Eerily, my dreams usually concern her in one way or the other, so it must be something related to our bond. In my last dream, I can vaguely remember a warm feeling in my belly, as ambiguous as that sounds. I laid my head on her lap, reading, while she soothingly caressed my hair. Disappointingly, I do not recall the contents of the book, only the warm caress of her fingers that lulled me into a feeling of comfort. 

The feelings of my dreams however, I am certain, do not carry on into my daylight hours. 

Maybe I must admit I am somewhat impressed by her tenacity and persistence, perhaps that feeling is causing my subconscious to confuse the nature of our relationship?

-----------------

Alhaitham is tired of whatever farce you are trying to play. 

You are like a migraine to him, your arrival always a nuisance, a pain, and wholly unwelcome. You do not respect his choices, opinions. Your existence frustrates him, and he cares not that you always take great care not to cause him trouble. Your actions, while deceptively helpful, greatly annoy the scribe. 

This year, his attempts at dissuading you have gotten rather harsh. This is because he can no longer afford you indifference. This can be traced back to when you left a cake on his desk. Congratulating him on his new role as scribe. The flavour was not overly sweet, it’s something he would usually enjoy consuming, but the feelings borne within his chest at the sentimental message written on the cake caused him to pause. The moths swarming his belly did not make sense, his response did not make sense. The cogs that always efficiently turned in his head seemed to clog at the thought of you. 

An uncharacteristic rage blinded him that day, he did not feel this way in his life before, and when he sat reflecting on his now emptier desk after harshly dumping the cake in the bin facing his office, he thought that the new found nuisance in his life is more troublesome than he previously predicted. 

One day, a golden opportunity seemed to land on his lap. A one in a million lucky chance. Though Alhaitham thinks a lucky chance is only one if you can reap the benefits it brings you. 

It was a pleasant night, the air, while warm, was comfortable as cooler wind blew inside the tavern and ruffled his hair slightly. He was drinking alone, a choice he made as the comfort of his own thoughts was something he needed. He’d be able to ruminate in peace, had the cause of his irritation not found him once again. 

“Oh my, hi Alhaitham. We keep running into each other, it’s almost like fate huh” you greeted, plopping yourself beside him, calling to the bartender to pass you a drink too, signalling the start of Alhaitham’s misfortune. So nonchalantly confident, your head always held up high around him, as if his attitude towards you is a mere playing hard to get. 

He opened his lips, a scathing reply at the tip of them, until another irritation called out his name jarringly. 

He turned his head, as several others did before minding their own business after briefly casting them curious looks. 

“Soo this is where you spend your time! You could have invited me, you know.” some women from the Akademiya sat to his left, batting her lashes at him in what he assumes is her way of being coy and attractive. 

He was halfway into finishing his drink. It’s a shame he’ll have to retire early as his night no longer holds the promise of peace. However, upon seeing you casting them a curious look, silent for once in your life, he got a much more brilliant idea. 

It takes a genius to turn a stroke of misfortune into a lucky chance. 

Although having never indulged in this sort of useless and amateurish behaviour, likening it to some sort of primitive mating call, Alhaitham is adaptable and a great actor when it comes to securing his own peace. 

“Sorry honey, I’ve been somewhat preoccupied. Surely I can make it up to you” he feigned a cordial look, eyes raking through her figure. She’s not really his type. Her lap didn’t seem comfortable to lay his head on, and even the shape of her fingernails seemed to turn him off. Coincidently, some of your physical features are rather favourable to him, especially the shade of your eyes. Her voice also sounds grating, and he wished she'd never say his name again. But he put up with it, and even went as far is to brush his hand on her upper thigh, his implications clear.

His reply took you and her by surprise, shocked faces at the tone no one heard from the blunt scribe before, but her shock quickly morphed to glee. 

“Of course! I’m not one to hold grudges” she scooted closer to him, and he quickly wondered if this was worth it, or a detour into wasting even more of his time, especially as her hands reached out and touched his shoulder, rendering him wordless with the awkwardness of having to tolerate her invasive touches.

He glanced at you, and your frozen made you look stuck in your spot, in disbelief, surely it’s not preposterous that he might pursue someone else? His lips willfully thinned though, when he saw how your previously frozen eyes melted into a volcano, rage swimmed within them, as your brows scrunched disapprovingly. He’d never seen you look like this, even when he threw all your attempts back in your face all those years. He’d never seen you look like you wished the ground would open and swallow him, and his gut twisted uncomfortably at the thought. 

Perhaps this was all it really took to have you leave him be. He wondered why he never took this approach before. 

He cast furtive glances at the other women speaking, unwilling to break this facade now, but he found that the air after you left seemed much more cold. 

“You can stop bothering me now. Whatever you think could happen between us isn’t going to, but it was amusing seeing you gullible you could be.” he spoke while nursing another drink, his eyes not even meeting hers, though she might find this to be in her benefit. Although his clipped words were missing their usual edge, it still had the desired effect. 

“You jerk, do you think you’re too good for me? I was willing to tolerate your dry personality because you had a pretty face, but your head is bigger than I thought. Bring yourself down to earth, at this rate you’re going to die alone and miserable as you always have been.” 

People’s words never bothered him, and even now they do not. He chooses to live his life the way he chooses, and people’s opinions will never change his pursuit of personal peace. However, he found it interesting that one rejection from him caused her to spout so much venom at him, when years of him doing that to you didn’t have this effect. Is it that you’re patient? Level headed? Kind? Well, more like hopelessly foolish.

---------------

Entry 1023, date xx

For the past month, I haven’t seen much of her. It seems that before, she went out of her way to run into me. Ever since the night at the tavern, her pursuit seemed to end completely. This is what I wanted for years, isn’t it? I have finally achieved the desired results. 

I am still as whole as the day I was born, I don’t feel lacking. I am fine.

-----------

Alhaitham finished up writing the latest entry, closing the journal and putting it inside his drawer. As he stretched, he caught sight of his face. 

His facial hair seems to be growing out, painting his face in a five o’clock shadow. He stroked the coarseness, wondering why he’d missed his usual schedule of trimming. 

He shook the creeping thoughts away, approaching his bed to finally get a much needed rest. He needs to clear the pesky thoughts away, so that he may finally enjoy the books he’s been meaning to read. You’d probably have something insightful to say about them, you usually seemed to. 

Curses, why must his own brain betray him? 

Sleep, when it finally came, was not peaceful. 

He was frantically opening every door in his house, searching for something. Opening doors, searching, repeating.

The violent cycle went on, his heart falling every time his mysterious search reaped nothing. 

He shook awake, panting so loudly that he wondered briefly whether he performed a strenuous exercise in his sleep, if the erratic thumping of his heart was any clue. It banged painfully against his ribs. His hair clung to his forehead, and his face felt suspiciously wet. He needs to calm down, so that he may analyse the cause of his restless sleep and eliminate it. But his brain stubbornly shut down, and Alhaitham's throat traitorously clogged up. 

Deep breath. A  response like this might not be any cause for alarm. Deep breath. Emotional hysterics will solve nothing. Deep breath.

Why do the walls feel like they are closing in on him?

-------------------

It’s been 4 months and 6 days since Alhaitham saw you. Or heard from you. 

This period is incredibly unusual, you never went so long without speaking to him. Is the thought of him pursuing another woman truly all it took to throw you off? Perhaps he gave your persistence undeserving credit. He wishes he could hear your thoughts, stumble into a journal of yours. If only to see whether his hypothesis proved right, that once you realised this you too came to your senses and realised you could lead a happy life without him. 

His inability to know filled him with bitterness, yet why is he feeling such when he prided himself on only speculating things of importance? His frustration made him gnaw on his lips. 

“I do think they look good together, she should take her chance with him” 

Dimwits gossiping in the library might be the last straw, why is it that people can’t save their idle chatter for a more appropriate place?

“Yeah, but doesn’t (y/n) have a soulmark? This could end disastrously.”

What?

“Yeah but, it’s quite rare for soulmates to find each other nowadays, she shouldn’t waste her chance because of something that might never be.” 

Who? And when did this happen?

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

Alhaitham’s brain, if possible, might melt. An overload of thoughts, information, noises, all overstimulating him. But if he thought hard enough, it’s quite clear that this is another tactic of yours. You’ve gotten quite clever. It cannot be a mere coincidence that this gossip found its way to his ears, you must be trying to ignite some irrational feeling within him, jealousy. 

Too bad he’ll never give you the satisfaction of seeing him this way. 

He closed his book, a mere decoration at this point, and walked out of the library, thinking a walk would help clear his head. 

“Yeah, he seems quite taken by her, I think he is seriously courting her.”

No matter what hallway he’s in, what direction he pivots to, the building of the Akademiya itself seems to be buzzing with talks of you and some guy. You’ve put a lot of effort into this farce of yours, did you take in the consequences? When this blows over, your dignity as a scholar would surely never recover. You’d be known as a gossipmonger. 

Days have passed however, and the talk showed no sign of stopping. You and a wealthy sponsor of the Akademiya, who hails from Fontaine. He’d fallen in love with you, is courting you, and everything trivial inbetween. When did you even have time to catch the eye of someone so apparently important? It’s implausible, and incredibly petty. 

Why are you nowhere to be found now? 

--------------

Statistically, Alhaitham knows that it’s impossible not to have run into you by now. Unless you have been going out of your way to avoid him. He even changed his usual seating spot in the library, thinking that maybe he’d find you away from his corner. He’s been roaming in the city the past month more than he had in a year. 

The worst thing is that he didn’t understand why he was going so far to find you. It defied logic itself, his persistence. It’s none of his business what you do, so he should give up while he’s at it. Come back to his senses, and live out his peace. 

You seemed to haunt him though, and as his tired teal eyes roamed the cafe on his way once more, fate seemed to drop him a little trinket. 

He squinted his eyes, seeing the familiarly patterned, maroon scarf that you always wore when it got a bit chilly. He rushed inside the cafe, eyes zeroed on it. Before looking outside once more in search of your figure. He’d probably just missed you. 

The rational choice would be to hand over the scarf to the workers, you’d probably come in search of it, but before rationale could halt him, he took the scarf and left, but not before catching a whiff of your familiar scent. 

This would give him a reasonable excuse to talk to you, you can’t refuse an act of goodwill from him right? He thought back, trying to find a single moment in which he’d done you a favour and not the reverse. 

His stomach sank as he realised that he’d in fact never done a single act of goodwill towards you, he’d spared you nothing but harsh words of rejection and belittlement. 

Perhaps this is why he’s been searching for you, to try and ease this feeling of guilt that hasn’t left him since you completely erased your existence out of his life. You’d made home in every corner of his life, trying to make it a little more bearable. You were a sacrifice to his philosophy, it couldn’t be any other way, because Alhaitham is equally stubborn, he’d never give in to the will of someone else who’s ordained how he must live his life. 

But for now, he’ll take this scarf home, knowing deep down that he doesn’t intend to return it. 

-------------

Alhaitham sat on the couch near his bed, watching perplexed as you made out with a clone of him. Your fingers tangled in his grey strands, beautiful, naked body straddling him, as if you were trying to become one with him, merge your being with his so that he may never try and discard you. Your lips moulded with his own, and he’d returned the favour with equal fervour. 

Only, his grey hair began darkening from the roots down, becoming a pitch black colour. You pulled away, and he watched horrified as his clone’s face melted like clay, only to be reconstructed as the face of a stranger. You however appeared indifferent, eyes soulless and lacking the tenacity you seemed to possess earlier. 

He stood up to try and take you away, but an invisible force pulled him back, leaving him only to thrash while a stranger held you, and you let him. 

You let the stranger cradle your body, indifference melting into a bittersweet smile as your lips found his. 

Alhaitham’s eyes stung, and he tried closing them to shield himself from the sight as you let a stranger make love to you, but he couldn’t. His eyes were made to be peeled wide upon as he watched and heard you, and his wrist burned, heart ached. But through it all, he’d only wished that you’d stop and look at him again. 

But you didn’t, your eyes didn’t leave the stranger's body, not until they rolled back in ecstasy while you used his body for your pleasure. The strangers hands caressed you, and strummed your pleasure to a tune that only produced the most melodious sounds out of you. 

Tears started falling down his cheeks. But he still couldn’t close his eyes. 

Alhaitham opened his eyes, feeling like a dam had broken on his pillow as the moistness in his eyes blurred his vision. 

He rubbed his tears away, but they wouldn’t stop, not for as long as he remembered his nightmare. You, so close, making love to someone else while he was forced to watch and hear. 

Why did he have to be tormented even in dreams? 

His heart hammered away so loudly that it felt like drums to his ears, his lungs refused to operate as an unbearable feeling of pain overwhelmed him. He pulled his knees to his chest as he willed his shivering to stop, the moon staring mercilessly at him as he rocked back and forth. 

He suddenly remembered a find of his, and with a blurry vision he fished out your scarf, holding it up to his nose to breathe in the scent he’d been denied. He rubbed away his tears, not wanting to stain your scarf with it, and like something beyond reason his tears had stopped. 

His sleep was dreamless after that. 

-------------

Entry 1800, date xx 

Dreams have been tormenting my nights, and reality torments my day. Why does it feel like I’m being continuously punished? Were my ideas so cardinally sinful that the deity’s above have taken to cause me misery? 

I have once again devolved to foolish thoughts. It’s my thoughts that torment me, not any higher power. 

If she’s anything to go by, then I guess my hypothesis has been proven correct. She no longer seeks me out, hasn’t done so in 8 months. When I catch a glimpse of her, it’s so brief it’s almost like a phantom. I do hear of her though, that she’s happy with another man. That they might move back to Fontaine together at this rate, that this might not be fling. She’d succeeded in something no one has succeeded at before her. She left her soulmate behind and pursued her own path. I was never needed.

The idea that she might move to Fontaine is rather far fetched though, as she is still a researcher, and this is but only one relationship. Moving to a completely new homeland to pursue such a fresh relationship is completely spontaneous and irresponsible. Especially considering she would need to abandon many of her projects. 

They will most likely break up, they might not, only time will tell. But for the time being, she seems to have moved on.

-----------

Alhaitham’s haggard figure trekked through the Sumeru, eyes a dull green that looked sombre as he glanced through the stalls. Malnutrition is the most likely cause of the way he’s had no energy lately, even his bones seemed to ache in protest. 

With a fresh bag of groceries in hand, Alhaitham walked back home, eyes downcast and somewhat soulless. He needs to cook today, needs to eat something and get on with his life. He needs to. 

With his downcast eyes and general disinterest, he almost missed the crowd of awed bystanders forming a ring around two people. With one furtive glance, he deemed it not worth his time, until he caught sight of the second star of the show. 

It’s you. Standing there. It’s finally you. Light seemed to come back to his eyes, if only for a brief second before horror overtook them. 

It’s you, standing there, with a man kneeling on the floor proposing to you. A crowd of people all around you two, smiling, anticipating, gasping. 

It’s you, nodding your head as another man puts a ring on your finger, his pitch dark hair and features nothing like Alhaitham, with one look Alhaitham can surmise that he’s everything Alhaitham could never be. His smiling face charms everyone in sight, he’s like a star that everyone wants to be near to bask in his aura. 

Alhaitham doesn’t have the vocabulary to describe such a raw feeling with medical terms, but if he can be sentimental, he might be able to say that his soul hurts.

------------

Dear (y/n), 

The Akademiya is currently lacking in capable personnel, and as the scribe I had been entrusted with alleviating this issue using records of capable individuals. You had many great works under your belt, and I understand that our personal matters might’ve driven you away to Fontaine, but I find it rather immature that you’d go so far and abandon your responsibilities to pursue a relationship. 

Please consider coming back, as the Akademiya is willing to offer you a new position that you might find to be to your liking, the job benefits are numerous such as a large residence in Sumeru and a very high salary with many days of paid leave. Please contact me for more information. 

Alhaitham 

-----------------

 Dear (y/n), 

I have received your letter of rejection. 

Perhaps the salary wasn’t to your liking? The Akademiya is willing to double it, all your research projects will be fully funded and approved and you may pick up where you left off without any hassle. Any additional requirements could be negotiated, it would surely not be ideal to disregard such a promising career and job title in the Darshan you have dedicated years to. 

I apologise for any harsh words I have previously said to you, sometimes, well, most times my pride gets the best of me and I end up hurting people with my words. I would like to say that I never meant to hurt you, but at the time I did and I do feel quite regretful. Our personal matters should never be a reason for you to reject such a great offer. I understand that you are in a committed relationship, but you shouldn’t be discouraged to pursue other paths so early on in your life. 

Alhaitham

--------------

Dear (y/n), 

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I would apologise for every second I disregarded you if it means you might come back. I would give you anything. I’m sorry I didn’t before, and that it took me so long. 

I’m pathetic, foolish, unworthy, and every derogatory term on this earth. But I also love you. I’m sorry it took having nothing of you in my life but a scarf you’d forgotten to realise that I love you.

When I sit in the corner of the library, I always save a seat next to me, hoping by some miracle you’d show up again. That you’d sit there again, laughing, smiling at me like you’d sucked all the warmth out of the sun, and this time I’d smile at you back until my cheeks hurt because you have come to mean happiness to me. 

I’ve loved you for every single year I’d known you, and for every single season, there was no one ever but you. Please believe me, I’d never pursued any relationships, it was only ever you that occupied my heart and thoughts. That woman you saw at the tavern wasn’t someone I was seeing, and I rejected her after, even if this meagre show of loyalty is too little too late. I was a fool that day, I was angry at my feelings, at the way my heart and brain were in complete incoordination that I took her advances to try and hurt you. I didn’t even touch her, she meant nothing to me, I wish I didn’t show up to the tavern that day so then maybe you’d still be in my life. 

Nothing fills the vacuum you left behind, my heart. I cried so much the day you left that it felt like I’d never stop crying. 

I tried to deny something so wonderful, and when my wish was granted I declared that I want you back. You must think I’m the most selfish man you’ve ever known. I might be. I’m sorry I rejected you and denied my feelings for so long, but please, will you come back and return the colour to my life? I will never take you for granted again. 

Please come back, I’m begging you. 

Alhaitham

-------------

Alhaitham walked around the labyrinth, nothing but the moonlight guiding him on his quest to find you. He’s frantic, rushing around from one dead end to another. 

And then he finds you, laying there, in the centre, bushes and greenery enveloping you, and you seemed happy to see him, because your cheeks quirked up and eyes crinkled in a smile that he’d been deprived of for long enough to realise it’s as essential as oxygen to him. 

He ran to you, breaking you free of your binds, enveloping you in his arms before kissing your lips in reverence as if he worships you. He kisses you, not stopping until he realises that you aren’t responding, and that you’ve gone cold in his arms.

-----------------

Alhaitham stared at the piling documents in front of him, eyes bloodshot and blurry. He’s glad that no one usually approaches him, for he must look like he squabble with the grim reaper last night. 

He sighed, hand going to his chest, rubbing it in a vain attempt to soothe the ache there. You didn’t reply to any of his letters. Why would you? He’s truly a piece of work to attempt to contact you after all he’s done to you over the years. 

He doesn’t know how long he can go on like this, but he knows for certain that he’s become the villain of his own story. His hubris and pride have pulled him down to a hell that he lives in everyday. He mocked soul mates all his life for travelling for miles to be together, for quitting jobs, getting divorced, all for a fated person. Alhaitham cannot look down on them any more, because if you don’t respond to him soon he will run to Fontaine and grovel until you spare him a single glance, and then he will finally feel like he’s found his Oasis after being stuck in a never ending desert. 

It feels like a knife stabbing his chest whenever he thinks of you in another land, married to another man, loving him and being loved by him in a way Alhaitham will never experience. But he brought this on himself, how can he blame you? He drove you into someone else’s arms. 

He touched his forehead, feeling somewhat feverish. He’s felt drained the past few weeks, but especially so after the dream he’d last had. His entire body is aching, and his breaths feel shallow, but if he plans to try to go to Fontaine he’d better start working now. 

Alhaitham opens the documents on his desk, diligently working on one after the other until his eyes land on the freshest arrivals. 

Alhaitham doesn’t fully remember what happened after that, but he remembers reading the words that shattered his entire world before his vision faded to black. 

“The student and faculty body is urgently requesting the papers to be processed to allow the body of (y/n) to be transferred to Sumeru to be buried in her homeland after her tragic murder. please…”

--------------

Alhaitham opened his eyes to an unfamiliar sight, the air felt sanitised and the sheets scratchy, alarming him to abruptly sit up, causing his head to feel light and vision to get hazy again. 

A nurse rushed over to him, calming him down and informing him of his condition. 

He was fatigued and had a fever, overwork and a mental shock took a toll on him and he passed out. That won’t do, he must get back to work so he can go after (y/n). 

(y/n)... 

His brain was refusing to process what he read, it must be a sick joke. A fucked up prank. You’re in Fontaine, happy and married, or perhaps still engaged. He hopes you’re still only engaged. 

He turns to the nurse who still held a worried look on her face, brown eyes crinkled in worry over a stranger. You’d give him this look sometimes too. 

“I’m alright. I’m going home to rest now.” he didn’t. 

He went back to the Akademiya, back to his office, to check that this was not reality, only one of the many nightmares that had been haunting him. He wasn’t the most devout man in his life, but for the first time in his life he made a prayer. Please let him have another chance, please don’t make him live this, don’t take her away from me this way.

Fate was cruel. 

Alhaitham faced the reality living out before him. He looked down, his wrist trembling, he’s been so afraid to look for the longest time, knowing he undeserving he was of it, but now he needs to, he needs to confirm. 

He turned his wrist, the mark on it has lost all colour, it’s now darker than any night Alhaitham had lived.

------------------

You left this world, he chants in his head, rocking back and forth. 

His room looked like a testament of destruction, everything was smashed, papers ripped, books destroyed, everything he faced didn’t survive to tell the tale. 

You left him alone in this world. 

The house and Sumeru itself never felt too big for one person, but now he feels like he’s drowning amidst the populace, his world never felt duller and more lonely, he faintly remembers a familiar pricking of loneliness when his grandmother passed. The mere prick had transformed into a tidal wave that’s drowning him under, and Alhaitham can’t breath amidst the saltwater. 

Did you even read his letters? Did you at least die knowing he loves you? 

He holds his pounding head in his hands, crushed at the thought of you dying with the thought that he doesn’t care about you. Did you forgive him as you took your last breath? Or did you despise him tenfold? 

You were killed, how could anyone think of hurting you? Since when was the world so cruel? 

It’s all Alhaitham’s fault, if he hadn’t pushed you towards that man, you would never have left with him, if only he thought for a second, if only his hubris didn’t cloud his logic. 

His heart had died that day, but he couldn’t find it in him to stand up and attend the funeral.

-----------------

“This is the book that brought us together my love, I still remember. If I recall far enough I can even describe the feeling of your fingers brushing against mine.” Alhaitham mutters, making himself comfortable beside you, this is the closest he will get to reading in your embrace, so he might as well make himself comfortable against the harsh slab of rock that has become your home. 

“I should have let you have it, or perhaps suggested we read it together? I should have invited you to pupsa cafe that day and introduced you as my soulmate to the owner. I can’t undo that, no longer am I able to agonise about the past, so now this is my attempt of redoing it. I hope you can forgive me.” he said, tracing the soil as tears lined his lashes, he brought you some flowers too, this is his first time bringing you flowers. 

“I’ll read the book out to you, alright?” and so Alhaitham flicks the book open. 

He reads out until his throat hurts, and the position of the sun changes, until the wind becomes more biting and harsh, and the song of nature becomes louder. He’s got the protection of your scarf, but it pains him even more that your scent has nearly fully faded away. 

He flicks the book closed, asking you about it, but of course you can never respond, nor can you even hear him when you're resting in silence six feet under. 

Humans are truly curious creatures, Alhaitham can admit he’s no exception. Their actions can never be truly calculated, uncontrolled variables cloud their existence. Most people accept the benefits that come with having a chosen one ordained by the stars, they weep in joy as a fated lover sweeps them under. 

Some like Alhaitham do not. They justify the rationale of a lonely existence, disregard a fate carved for them by an unknown force, they refuse to become one with the herd. However, one doesn’t discover true loneliness until they discover what it’s like to bask in the joys of companionship. Such simple acts like drinking coffee together while you both read, the comfort of knowing that you’re always nearby, ready to intervene when you think life is becoming too troublesome for him, the celebratory gifts, the laughs and smiles, they are all so incredibly mundane. But love is not so otherworldly, because if so, then the masses would never get to experience it. Your simple acts of love towards him are things he shall never experience again. The truth, something he always pursued with endless disregard for people’s feelings, is now too bitter for him to accept. 

Did Alhaitham’s world always look so grey? Why is loss so hard to comprehend? It might have something to do with the fact that you were never his to lose. 

He’s like a child, chasing after a kite that he can never have within his grasp again, nature’s will is too strong. 

The people at the Akademiya have moved on, tales and gossip surrounding your death dimmed from gasp-inducing tales to idle chatter, and now time has moved on and you were simply a topic out of season. It makes him mad, the way your friends can so easily laugh without looking at the vacant spot in their groups, how could the world so easily move on when Alhaitham is still left behind, clinging on to an outdated calendar?

His anger has long disappeared though, it left nothing but the bitter sting of regret, regret for what wasn’t and for what now couldn’t be. It took him too long to realise that the bentos dumped in trashes could have been dinners he came home to, made not expertly but with love. That seeing you barefoot in his kitchen after he left his work on the dot was a daydream worth chasing after. He grips the flask in his hand, throat feeling parched for release, mind desperate to finally leave this nightmare behind and rest.

“They say soulmates are binded in every life, their souls marking their bodies in an attempt to find their missing half. Do you think in the next life, we can be together? It’s too cruel to think that this is the end, so I entertain myself with such musings sometimes to comfort myself.”

Too preoccupied and swarmed with thoughts, Alhaitham failed to notice the shadow approaching him until its figure stood in front of him. He lifts his head, taking in the elderly lady who’s gentle countenance and wise wrinkled eyes reminded him so much of his grandmother that he nearly asked for an embrace. 

“Are you alright young man, you’ve been in this cold for a while haven’t you? I’m sure your loved one would want you to be happy and warm.'' Her soothing tone nearly made Alhaitham break into sobs, confessing that he’s never known warmth since you took all of it away when you became cold. He became cold too, after all he is your other half. 

He smiled, a smile so sincere that it looked off on his usually sombre face, and a hint of warmth seemed to return to him. He fingered the flask in his hand, his eyes hinting the grief bottled up inside of him. 

“Don’t worry, I will be, it shouldn’t take too long.”

----------------

“It’s been several years since the tragedy of the couple in mention, and while a difficult decision, we have decided a few months ago to look at their case to study the phenomenon of soulmates and their correlation to dreaming.” The aged lecturer spoke, voice low and hinting at the deep seriousness of the matter. The hall is silent, many having memories of the two, and while the murder of (y/n) shook many to their core, the unseen bond that you had to the Akademiya’s scribe made the tale truly a tragedy. Others, the more clueless ones who didn’t quite know the two, cast curious glances around. With time, there will be no need to pay homage to the tragedy of the matter, your bond will not be commemorated for how loving or sad it was, but it will be documented for Academic research. In a way, you and Alhaitham will live on and be remembered as a pair, though not the way either of you intended. 

“The various notes left behind by the two, Alhaitham’s in particular, took especially long to go through, and some transcriptions had to be salvaged. This study proved useful to the hypothesis that soulmates are more prone to dreaming because of the connection that they share. Many researchers have gone further to assert that it might be that the link between them links their subconscious and the hyper activity across this link stimulates shared dreams. The feelings of the pair experienced during daylight muddled together during their sleep-” the lecturer pauses to take a deep breath, flicking through the lecture notes “-and produced dreams that were shared by the two, and seemed to be directly influenced by both their feelings.” he let that information sink in before resuming. 

“For example, as seen in page 34, Alhaitham  was avid in documenting anything related to his soulmate, yet it seemed he was completely unaware, as most people wouldn’t be, that the day he dreamt of her having intercourse with someone else was the same day that she in fact did. We can thus somewhat deduce that this dream was influenced by her feelings regarding the-” he paused momentarily, thinking of an appropriate phrasing “-her feelings regarding the act.” 

“The dreams they had, interestingly, sometimes reflected their feelings towards each other more honestly than their daylight hours and dialogue. Their bond can never be broken by rejection, it seemed. They still found a way of subconsciously communicating. Their case has become a hot topic of research, especially in regards to soulmates and dreams respectively.” 

The lecturer felt somewhat forlorn, knowing that endless lecture notes on the two came at the expense of something they will never get to experience. 

[spice-chan]

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, NFSW, 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, 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.

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. 

“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. 

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. 

“...” 

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. 

“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?’.

  

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. 

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 you need, 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. 

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, aroma. 

 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. 

“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. 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 your 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.

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. 

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

[spice-chan]

Let’s Look Over The Garden Wall

Summary: One wants an easy meal and one wants to play house. 

Word Count: 9.9k

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Smut, Modern AU, Vampire AU, Contract Marriage, NSFW, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Unrequited love?, Vampire! Alhaitham, Dom! Alhaitham, Human! Reader, biting, pet name? (calls you good girl) TW: Blood & Blood drinking, TW: Death, Terminally ill! Reader, slight orgasm denial, slight corruption kink, wedding night, temperature play? He falls hard, slow fic, tragedy

Authors note: This whole fic was a challenge since I wanted to write it kinda from Alhaitham’s pov. I’m not really knowledgeable about vampires, so in this fic they’re just a type of monster and not undead, and vampire blood can turn humans into monsters. Enjoy!

Keep reading

[spice-chan]

On the complexities of relationships and words

Summary: For two people that love to read, words seem like a complex. 

Word Count: 13k (yeah… this is slow burn, might want to get a drink and snack)

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Slow Burn, Smut, NSFW, Fluff, Angst kind heavy?, Modern AU, Omegaverse AU, A/B/O relationships, slow fic, marriage, arranged pairing, dubcon, themes about not liking yourself, TW: gender dysphoria (you don’t like your secondary gender), TW: Very vague and brief mentions to possible past domestic trauma, Jealous!alhaitham, slight yandere!alhaitham, mutual pining, miscommunication, breeding, biting, ruts, Alpha!alhaitham, Beta!reader. You agreed to the pairing due to tax benefits. A lot of references to literature. 

Authors note: This is my first attempt at slow burn and yeah… I got carried away. I want to explore how slow alhaitham would open up and how love can come from the mind instead of the heart. Enjoy.

Side Note: here is a little dabble 

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[spice-chan]

Simple Wishes

Summary: He never understood humans, and by extension, he never understood you. Perhaps if he had only placed more effort into studying you as he did with the search for greater knowledge, tragedy could have been avoided. But would you still allow him to hold your hand?

Word Count: 3k 

Tags: alhaitham x gn reader, deshret x gn reader, jinni!reader, past lifes, reincarnation au, angst, character death, modern au, some spoliers of genshin lore 3.2 onwards, sfw, tragedy, fluff, daughter nahida

Authors Note: This is based on the theory that alhaitham is in some way connected to king deshret, either as a reincarnation or a descendant. The reader is a jinni that understands and feels human emotions, a mirror for gods to reflect upon and cultivate more wisdom from a human prospective. Enjoy!

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[spice-chan]

HII I SAW UR REQUESTS WERE OPEN!!! your writing is so amazing i couldn’t resist sending one in after i had binged everything…

may i request headcanons for a totally whipped al-haitham with the childhood friends to lovers trope throughout the years? as in how he was to reader in elementary, middle school, etc. but if not that’s fine!!! your fic with him liking reader since middle school was so 😭😭😭❤️ reader teasing him was so funny and i can’t scream about it hard enough 🥹

i hope you have an amazing day!!! keep up the good work!

thank you smm that rlly means a lot! im so glad you enjoyed my writing ❤️❤️ i love the friends to lovers trope sm writing this involved a lot of giggling and kicking my feet, whipped Alhaitham is just so cute. Anyway I hope you like this I had so much fun with it too 😋😋

༊*·˚ 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

Pairing: Alhaitham x F!reader

Content: fluff, modern AU, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, (very) whipped Alhaitham

ELEMENTARY SCHOOL

You’d first met Alhaitham when you were in elementary. He, being slightly younger, was in preschool. Unlike the other kids, he kept to himself, mainly studying a picture book in a secluded corner. Your play areas were separated by a low fence, one which you often loved to climb over.

“Haitham!” You almost fell onto the grass after scaling this fence once again in the break time, peeking over the smaller boy’s shoulder.

“Is that a kangaroo?” You pointed at the picture book enthusiastically. Alhaitham only looked up at you, blinking a few times with his wide green-orange eyes.

“No, it’s a pademelon.” He spoke surprisingly eloquently, tongue only slightly lisping over the syllables.

“You’re no fun.” You sighed, plopping down next to your self-proclaimed friend and beginning to draw flowers on paper with your new crayons. Upon seeing the curious look on Alhaitham’s face, you handed him the green crayon.

“You can draw flowers with me if you want.” You shifted closer. The boy said nothing, only holding the crayon tightly as he watched you happily scribbling.

Once you’d befriended Alhaitham, there was no turning back. He was shy and quiet, but utterly attached to you. You nodded excitedly whenever he babbled on about a new topic, although you never really understood what he was talking about, and played imaginary games with him in the playhouses. He never really understood the imaginative concept, but you would lead the way as he followed along with whatever you said.

“I am the princess, and I am going to become the queen! Bow before me!” You manoeuvred a figurine across the miniature castle.

“No, the crown prince’s wife will become queen when he ascends to the throne.”

“Oh, okay. You’re so cool, Haitham.”

Alhaitham only smiled at you. The truth was, he thought you were the coolest person in the world. He might know all the logistical facts, but he could never weave a story as you did.

“Huh? Haitham, you’re the knight. You need to go to battle!”

Alhaitham was shaken out of his daze when he realised he’d only been staring at you in awe, quickly grabbing the knight figure to move it. Beneath his long lashes, he’d constantly sneak glances at you - looking for your approval that he was doing the right thing.

Whenever you were absent, Alhaitham would ask everyone else where you’d gone. After verifying that - unfortunately - you really weren’t coming to school and shocking his peers with his sudden friendliness, he’d retreat to the outskirts of the play area. He would collect flowers and rocks, gathering them in his small arms - still a little chubby with baby fat - determined to find the best things to gift to you.

When you came back the next day, Alhaitham would shyly press the gifts he’d collected into your hands, eagerly watching your expression. If you smiled, he would too. Truly, although he was too young to know, you were his first love and the centre of his universe.

MIDDLE SCHOOL

During middle school, you and Alhaitham were in the same class. Due to his intellect, he’d been bumped up by a grade - much to his joy. The truth was, he’d been offered to move higher by two grades, but opted to only move one so he could be with you. Not that he’d ever admit that to you, of course.

Middle school Alhaitham would be better at hiding his feelings. He’d no longer be the the eager boy who openly chased your attention, although he still wanted it just as much. Rather, he’d deploy more subtle tactics, despite them rarely ever working.

It was undeniable that you were quite popular. Given your outgoing, virtuosic personality, you were constantly surrounded by friends. It hurt Alhaitham slightly, knowing that you were his favourite but he wasn’t yours. Despite this, he never changed his aloof demeanour - acting coldly to others, and less coldly to you. It was clear through his gestures that he had a soft spot for you, whether it consisted of paying for your lunch or bringing you snacks.

“Oh, we were supposed to bring a protractor to the test?” You hissed in the silence of the classroom, broken only by the whisper of pencils on paper. The teacher shot you a glare, motioning for you to be quiet.

“Here, I have a spare.” You felt a light tap on your shoulder, and spun around to see Alhaitham holding his hand out. His eyes hesitated before locking into contact with yours, the glasses making them look larger than they were.

“Thank you. You’re so cute, Haitham.” You whispered, shooting him a wry smile before resuming your position hunched over the test paper. You didn’t lie - he really did look adorable, those large eyes and small frame lending him to having a rather endearing disposition.

Alhaitham flushed red, his hands fumbling to close the zipper on his pencil case. He pushed his completed test paper to the side and placed his head on the desk, the hard surface cold on his burning skin. He mentally praised himself for always bringing a spare of every stationery item, just in case you needed it.

Whilst Alhaitham swatted away anyone else who dared ask him for academic help, he’d be almost eager to give you any form of assistance. If you were paying attention, you’d see the way his cheeks flushed when you leaned in to copy his homework, or the slight tremor in his voice when he explained a concept to you. Middle school Alhaitham - now hyper aware of his feelings for you - would be a stuttering mess at times, although that would soon change in his high school years.

“So, after completing the square… this equation can translate to- hey, why are you staring at me?” Alhaitham stopped upon noticing your gaze.

“Haitham, you can be so pretty if you tried a little more. I’m so jealous, you have such nice eyes.” You commented, running your fingers through his soft hair.

“… Why would I seek the superficial approval of others?” Alhaitham huffed, crossing his arms. Secretly however, your words spiralled in his head. Perhaps, if he did as you said, you’d like him too…?

He realised your hand was still on his head, and moved back. You whined in exasperation, flopping onto the desk.

“Your hair’s so soft though…” You mumbled, reaching out again.

“We’re here to study.” Alhaitham snapped, busying himself in flipping through the textbook to hide his red face. He found the content mundane, but teaching it to you made his heart flutter in knowing that he could be of use to you.

HIGH SCHOOL

Alhaitham in high school was drastically different from his middle school self, to say the least. He’d risen greatly in popularity for being the mysteriously smart and handsome student that barely paid anyone any mind. Much to your surprise, he’d grown even taller than you - making it a lot harder to ruffle his hair. It was rumoured that he’d brutally rejected confessions from many others, and had even made a teacher cry - but the shy boy you knew would never do that, right?

“Where are you headed?” You felt a large hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

“I’m… going to study!” You stammered, finally looking behind you to meet a piercing amber gaze.

“Studying? On your way to the bus stop that leads only to the mall?” Alhaitham raised an eyebrow.

“Um, yes, a new cafe opened there and I wanted to study in it.”

“Hey, what’s taking you so long? We’re going to miss the movie at this rate!” You internally cursed as the loud voice of your friends interrupted your conversation.

“Studying, huh… Well, have fun. Don’t expect me to help you this time.” Alhaitham scoffed, releasing his grip on your shoulder.

He sent you his notes later that night regardless.

It was well known around your school that you were friends with Alhaitham, although you vehemently denied any romantic feelings between the two of you - much to his dismay. Because of this, you often had students approaching you and asking to be set up with Alhaitham. Of course, being the epitome of moral excellency, you only agreed if they paid you.

"You know, this girl in my class is pretty cute..." You showed Alhaitham a picture on your phone.

"You like her?" Alhaitham asked, not even sparing a glance to the picture.

"No, I..."

"How much did they pay you this time?"

"What! I would do no such thing-"

"You know, if you just asked me, I could give you way more than whatever they're giving you. Stop trying to auction me off, I have no interest in such things." Alhaitham snapped his book shut. You frowned, tugging on his arm.

"Please? Just one date with her, I'll do anything."

"Anything?"

"Kiss me."

"Why?"

"Wouldn't it be awkward if I were on a date with this girl, and I didn't even know how to kiss her?"

"Oh, true." Alhaitham internally winced at how you didn't give it a second thought, only leaning in to seal your lips together. Although he'd mastered the art of maintaining a cool facade, if you'd opened your eyes in that moment, you'd see the flush in his face. He reminded himself to close his eyes, recalling the countless books he'd read about the topic. It definitely wasn't how he'd imagined his first kiss with you to be, but he'd take anything you gave him.

"Now, you're going on that date right? Here's her number." You winked, pulling away. Alhaitham furiously tugged his headphones onto his ears to hide how red they were, shooing you away.

"I'll text you her number then, Haitham!"

You ignored the confusing twist in your chest, attributing it to the kiss. After all, sharing a kiss with anyone would make you flustered - surely, it was nothing special.

Regardless of your efforts to make whatever dates you sent Alhaitham on successful, it never seemed to work. In truth, you had no idea how Alhaitham knew you'd been spying on those dates - after all, you were so inconspicuous, posing as a mere passerby. But he'd grown used to your exact demeanour, and no matter how hard you tried to be nondescript, his eyes were inevitably drawn to you. Unbeknownst to you, your eyes were drawn to him too - perhaps that was why you felt a slight twinge in your heart.

"Which popcorn do you like?" The girl next to Alhaitham giggled nervously.

"Salted caramel." Alhaitham responded cooly. Your jaw hung open from where you sat hidden behind a poster wall. Whenever you got salted caramel popcorn - your absolute favourite - he'd raise an eyebrow and inform you of your poor decision making, muttering something about the awful taste. You closed your mouth to smile to yourself. Perhaps he was trying to impress his date with his (superior) choice of popcorn. Your smile faltered when you realised how close they were standing to each other, before you mentally cursed yourself. What were you thinking? Surely you didn’t… have feelings for the very guy you were setting up with another girl…?

You followed the pair into the cinema, sitting a row behind them. They'd chosen a horror movie, which you absolutely hated, but you bore with it.

A few minutes into the film, you felt a tap on your knee. Alhaitham held out a fistful of popcorn to you from where he sat in front, his arm outstretched behind him. You scowled. He'd shown no prior indication that he'd noticed you - did he have eyes in the back of his head? You took the popcorn anyway, frowning at how Alhaitham played it off by lowering his arm around the girl's shoulders.

As the movie continued, Alhaitham wished it was you seated next to him. He hated the popcorn, but he'd gotten it just for you, anyway. His heart beat a little louder every time you reluctantly accepted his offering, although he had to glare at the girl who'd stolen your spot every few minutes to make sure she didn't think he was blushing for her. How troublesome this ordeal was. From an objective perspective however, this was fair exchange. If it made you happy, then he was happy too.

Alhaitham wasn't particularly athletically inclined, although his scholarship demanded participation in extracurricular sports. Hence, he found himself in the odorous male changing rooms for the second time that week. It would've been a mundane practice session (with him showing off a little if you happened to be watching), until he overheard a teammate's plans to ask you out.

"You should do it, I'm pretty sure she's single." Another teammate encouraged the first, the echo of a slap on the back reverberating through the room.

Alhaitham frowned. He'd planned to play the long game, although this was an unexpected interruption to his plans. Of course, there were other people to factor in. How could he have been so foolish as to exclude that from the equation?

"Yeah, I've had my eye on her for a while." The first guy spoke again.

"She's taken." Alhaitham blurted. Blurted, as in - his mind didn't fully weigh the decision before it left his mouth in a measured tone.

"Oh, sorry man. Are you two...?"

"Yes, we are." Alhaitham lied smoothly. He'd figure out how to deal with the repercussions later, but for now, he had to prevent anyone else from asking you out.

"That's great. Wish the best for you two." With a friendly (although slightly forceful) pat on the shoulder, the teammate left Alhaitham to head outside.

Alhaitham’s confession to you was ultimately very enigmatic and confusing, just as he was. Although he’d more or less practiced what he would say, when it came to you, he was always at a loss. You were a contradiction, a threat - both to his plans and his sanity. Somehow, that was what made him love you so much.

“I’ve heard a rumour that you and I were dating, Haitham. How come I never knew about this?” You tutted.

“Ah, they’re just saying mindless things. We’re just friends, after all.” That was what Alhaitham meant to say. Instead, what came out was;

“So what if we are?”

“We’re dating?” You cocked an eyebrow, failing to hide your flushed cheeks. Alhaitham noted this detail, trying his best to control the situation. What on earth had he just said?

“Yes, we are. Since we both like each other.” Alhaitham explained, internally cursing himself for his straightforward delivery. The situation was so outlandish - he’d just made an assertion, then supported it to somehow (very obviously) gaslight you into being his lover.

“You like me?” You spluttered. Alhaitham smiled. You hadn’t denied that you yourself liked him.

“Yes, because we’re dating.”

“No we’re not.”

“We are now.”

You stared at him in stunned silence, shocked by his audacity. But you couldn’t exactly deny his claims.

“Okay, I guess we are then.” Your mind still spun. Had he just… declared your relationship status?

“… Thank you.” Alhaitham murmured. You fidgeted on the spot uncertainly, before finally mustering the courage to peck his lips. Before you could scurry off however, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back.

“What are you-”

“I’ve waited years for this. God, you’re so stupid for not realising this earlier.” Alhaitham brought your lips to his, fiercely bringing you in to a passionate kiss.

You closed your eyes, melting into his touch as his hands deftly pulled you flush against him by your waist. Unsure of where to put your hands, you placed them on his chest - feeling it heave with every breath he took. His heartbeat thudded under your touch.

It was strange. Most people thought of him as being cold, almost robotic. And yet, he was so human now, from the light sheen of sweat on the column of his neck, to the flex of his jaw as it worked against yours. The slight tremble of his hand as it rose to rest on your nape, almost as though he too couldn’t believe what was happening.

The two of you pulled away after a while, panting heavily.

“I’ve… got to go.” Alhaitham muttered, walking off hurriedly before he could embarrass himself further. Nevertheless, it was alright for him to be selfish for once, right? It had seemed to work out in his favour.

Despite however much he tried to soothe himself, Alhaitham’s face was red, and a giddiness bloomed in his heart. Any other student would’ve been shocked to see the tender smile spread across his face, breaking that infuriatingly stoic expression. His childhood friend - and his first love - was now finally his.

[spice-chan]

FINALE: Ex husband Gojo (8K follower special)

A/N: I can’t believe this series has finally come to an end!! Omg 😭 I know a lot of you initially followed me because of ex husband Gojo but I hope I can continue to create content you like. But for now, enjoy! <3

⚠️ Warnings: graphic violence

You hated these woods. It didn’t matter how luxurious the house was, or how much the kids took away the eerie silence with their giggles and laughter, there was something wrong about this place. No matter how much Gojo would gaslight you into believing you’re being ungrateful, you knew better.

And your thoughts were re iterated tonight.

It was the peak of the night when you hear the front door open all the way from your bedroom. Something weird. “Gojo?” You call out. No answer.

The eerie haunted silence takes over once again as you try to analyse the situation.

Miasma. You felt a cursed energy you didn’t recognise in the air. You may not be a sorcerer but you were with Gojo long enough to distinguish his cursed energy from others.

You jump out of bed, an emergency poison Gojo gave you in your hand, and quietly make you way to your kids room, they were your priority after all.

And in the pitch black of the lodge, your heat a voice that crawls up to your skin.

“Going somewhere special?” Called out a gruesome sounding voice. You shakily twist your head to come face to face with the one eyed ugly creature.

“Listen women, I’m Jogo and -“

The creature screams as you immediately throw the poison at him, no hesitance in the hit and run. You hear the glass smashing as you run past him and grab the children from their room, and they scream as they are suddenly awoken out of their slumber.

You let the children run in front as you all run out of the house, but suddenly something grabs you by your stomach, slashing your sides. You scream out in bloodcurdling pain but you put all your force into a backward kick and manage to run out the house.

You shrug off your night cardigan and wrap it around your wound, not even halting for a second as you run to your slower running children, grabbing both of them to your sides and zooming off.

You curse Gojo for ever believing that there was any corner of this Earth that was a safe space for him and his family.

You sniff back the tears. You can’t lose now. You can’t let Gojo’s dangerous lifestyle be the reason you and your children die here.

You scream Gojo’s name continuously in the pitch black forest, your children screaming out for their daddy too.

———-

Finally after so many miles, you see it. You see the white hair heading towards the house you were resting in an hour ago.

“GOJO!!!” You scream, and he turns to you, relief on his frantic icy blue eyes, but he has no time for a sweet reunion.

“WAIT FOR ME AT THE RIVER!!!” He screams back.

“OKAY” you immediately spring back into action and run down the hill with your children, never making the mistake of halting.

But your feet kept moving. Past the trees, the bushes, the hill, the river.

You pass the river.

You didn’t stop at the river like he told you.

“Mommy didn’t daddy say wait by the riv-“

“SHUT UP!!!!!!!!” You yell in frustration. You don’t care what your action would be branded as right now, you just need to escape.

Betrayal.

Your feet keep moving. Yes, you were betraying Satoru, but did it even count as betrayal at this point?

After the pain, the lies, the kidnapping? This man was no longer your husband, he was a psychopath and simply a shadow of the man he used to be. Yes, he may care about you and the kids, but YOU also cared about yourself and the kids. The intrusion of those demon was simply the perfect excuse to escape.

Your legs were shaky but they kept moving, your breath shallow from carrying 2 other bodies too.

You hear a boom behind you and you temporarily halt to turn around. Your eyes widen as they fall upon the luminous purple ball of lightening destroy the forest.

“Daddy’s purple hollow” your daughter whispers but your ignore it and continue running.

Your daughter was a smart girl. She was a bit more gifted than the average 5 year old. She knew her dad’s cursed energy meant destruction.

But even though you knew he was most likely done with the demon, you don’t stop. You knew you were his next prey, and should he find you, you’d pay the price for running.

But you were optimistic. You were far from the woods that was once your prison.

Tears brim in your eyes as you catch a glimpse of city lights. Home wasn’t far now. You only had to run a bit faster to make it and save yourself and the kids.

Dreams of your old home and old friends flash before your eyes. You plan how you’ll expose Gojo for his psychotic ways, Nanami will believe you for sure! Then you and your kids will move away into a new town where life will be all about focusing on your dreams and your kids!

“Mommy are you okay?”

“What do you mean?” You breathlessly ask.

“You’re limping” you son says with worry in his big eyes.

Y-you’re limping? You stare down at your legs and realise you’re not running anymore, you’re barely walking. Your worn out legs shake in exhaustion and you curse the universe for doing this to you right now.

You feel your daughter slip from your grasp and coax your son out of your grasp too.

Your legs eventually give up and you hit the ground. Your children silently watch you before copying you, sitting beside you on the grassy floor in the middle of nowhere.

You look at your kids, stroking their rosy cheeks, you have to save them, even if you can’t save yourself. “Mommy’s going to save us, I promise” you say to them with a weary smile, pressing a kiss to their cheeks but your kids don’t copy you this time.

“Mommy?” You daughter calls out and you turn your attention to her.

“Do you really believe we can escape daddy?”

She knows.

A tear escapes your eyes at her words. Your daughter’s words held the self awareness you had long lost. She knew all along, you were too blinded in defence to see.

She knew daddy wasn’t a good man. She knew daddy was the reason mommy cries alone. She knew daddies aren’t supposed to disappear then return like nothing happened. She knew it wasn’t a “holiday”. She knew daddy isn’t nice.

She knew daddy was strong, she knew mommy can’t defeat the strong.

You shake your head frantically at her. “NO NO NO! Mommy will bring us back to the city! I can do it princess I promise! J-just give mommy time!” You scream as you frantically shake your daughter’s shoulder.

But the child could only stare at you in sorrow. A silent mourning for the shell of a woman her mommy once was.

You continue to cry and scream empty promises to the children. The children who ignore your pleas and hug you, just like how you always hug them when they’re sad.

Suddenly you all hear a white noise. You look up into the sky and notice a familiar tall man with white hair in the sky.

You smile in defeat. He was always going to find you. How stupid could you have been to ever try to escape him? You belong to him after all.

You hear him reach the ground and yell out your name “Y/N!”. The gash on your stomach almost immediately stings at the same time, you hiss in pain.

He calls out your name again. And you try to ignore the sting from the wound with his voice. You pretend it’s Gojo from a few years ago calling out to you.

flashback

“Y/n! Baby come try my pasta!”

“It’s probably gonna taste icky!” You tease, making the sorcerer roll his eyes playfully before he spoon feeds you the pasta.

“Mm! This is surprisingly good!” You praise him making him give you a charming smile. “Of course it is! I bet my baby liked it too!” He said, rubbing your pregnant belly, placing a kiss on it. You giggle at his adoration, before it turns into a state a confusion when he passes you to spoon.

“Right! It’s your turn to feed me now!” He says before opening his mouth ready.

You giggle at his antics but you don’t even question it, indulging in your husbands fun and feeding him. You lick the sauce off the spoon and he looks at you with a smirk.

“Now don’t tease me Mrs Gojo, otherwise we’ll have a baby no.2 on the way” he teases as he pulls you into his lap, kissing your cheeks and belly.

“Oi y/n!! Stay awake, what going on? Why did you keep on running?? Why are you bleeding out!!!” You hear his frantic voice.

Your vision blurs and you can just about make out his wickedly handsome face. Oh how you wish you could bring back the old days with him, the things you’d do just to kiss him with a bit of love again.

You hear the soft cries of your kids. You failed them. You want to reach out and wipe their tears but you can’t move your arms.

That demon must’ve had poisoned you when it sliced you, now came the inevitable.

Are you dying? Maybe. It doesn’t feel too bad.

“No no y/n! Stay with me! Listen to me-! I love you okay? Just hold on I- no kids- stop crying! I love you y/n! I’m sorry please stay with me-!” You hear his pleas.

You smile. It’s all you ever wanted to hear. You just wanted to know you were worth loving, it’s a shame it’s too late.

And just like that

Your vision goes black.

The end.

A/N: welp I hope you enjoyed! 💗 and for all my softie followers I promise I will mend your hearts with the epilogue! <3

[spice-chan]

FINALE: Ex husband Gojo (8K follower special)

A/N: I can’t believe this series has finally come to an end!! Omg 😭 I know a lot of you initially followed me because of ex husband Gojo but I hope I can continue to create content you like. But for now, enjoy! <3

⚠️ Warnings: graphic violence

You hated these woods. It didn’t matter how luxurious the house was, or how much the kids took away the eerie silence with their giggles and laughter, there was something wrong about this place. No matter how much Gojo would gaslight you into believing you’re being ungrateful, you knew better.

And your thoughts were re iterated tonight.

It was the peak of the night when you hear the front door open all the way from your bedroom. Something weird. “Gojo?” You call out. No answer.

The eerie haunted silence takes over once again as you try to analyse the situation.

Miasma. You felt a cursed energy you didn’t recognise in the air. You may not be a sorcerer but you were with Gojo long enough to distinguish his cursed energy from others.

You jump out of bed, an emergency poison Gojo gave you in your hand, and quietly make you way to your kids room, they were your priority after all.

And in the pitch black of the lodge, your heat a voice that crawls up to your skin.

“Going somewhere special?” Called out a gruesome sounding voice. You shakily twist your head to come face to face with the one eyed ugly creature.

“Listen women, I’m Jogo and -“

The creature screams as you immediately throw the poison at him, no hesitance in the hit and run. You hear the glass smashing as you run past him and grab the children from their room, and they scream as they are suddenly awoken out of their slumber.

You let the children run in front as you all run out of the house, but suddenly something grabs you by your stomach, slashing your sides. You scream out in bloodcurdling pain but you put all your force into a backward kick and manage to run out the house.

You shrug off your night cardigan and wrap it around your wound, not even halting for a second as you run to your slower running children, grabbing both of them to your sides and zooming off.

You curse Gojo for ever believing that there was any corner of this Earth that was a safe space for him and his family.

You sniff back the tears. You can’t lose now. You can’t let Gojo’s dangerous lifestyle be the reason you and your children die here.

You scream Gojo’s name continuously in the pitch black forest, your children screaming out for their daddy too.

———-

Finally after so many miles, you see it. You see the white hair heading towards the house you were resting in an hour ago.

“GOJO!!!” You scream, and he turns to you, relief on his frantic icy blue eyes, but he has no time for a sweet reunion.

“WAIT FOR ME AT THE RIVER!!!” He screams back.

“OKAY” you immediately spring back into action and run down the hill with your children, never making the mistake of halting.

But your feet kept moving. Past the trees, the bushes, the hill, the river.

You pass the river.

You didn’t stop at the river like he told you.

“Mommy didn’t daddy say wait by the riv-“

“SHUT UP!!!!!!!!” You yell in frustration. You don’t care what your action would be branded as right now, you just need to escape.

Betrayal.

Your feet keep moving. Yes, you were betraying Satoru, but did it even count as betrayal at this point?

After the pain, the lies, the kidnapping? This man was no longer your husband, he was a psychopath and simply a shadow of the man he used to be. Yes, he may care about you and the kids, but YOU also cared about yourself and the kids. The intrusion of those demon was simply the perfect excuse to escape.

Your legs were shaky but they kept moving, your breath shallow from carrying 2 other bodies too.

You hear a boom behind you and you temporarily halt to turn around. Your eyes widen as they fall upon the luminous purple ball of lightening destroy the forest.

“Daddy’s purple hollow” your daughter whispers but your ignore it and continue running.

Your daughter was a smart girl. She was a bit more gifted than the average 5 year old. She knew her dad’s cursed energy meant destruction.

But even though you knew he was most likely done with the demon, you don’t stop. You knew you were his next prey, and should he find you, you’d pay the price for running.

But you were optimistic. You were far from the woods that was once your prison.

Tears brim in your eyes as you catch a glimpse of city lights. Home wasn’t far now. You only had to run a bit faster to make it and save yourself and the kids.

Dreams of your old home and old friends flash before your eyes. You plan how you’ll expose Gojo for his psychotic ways, Nanami will believe you for sure! Then you and your kids will move away into a new town where life will be all about focusing on your dreams and your kids!

“Mommy are you okay?”

“What do you mean?” You breathlessly ask.

“You’re limping” you son says with worry in his big eyes.

Y-you’re limping? You stare down at your legs and realise you’re not running anymore, you’re barely walking. Your worn out legs shake in exhaustion and you curse the universe for doing this to you right now.

You feel your daughter slip from your grasp and coax your son out of your grasp too.

Your legs eventually give up and you hit the ground. Your children silently watch you before copying you, sitting beside you on the grassy floor in the middle of nowhere.

You look at your kids, stroking their rosy cheeks, you have to save them, even if you can’t save yourself. “Mommy’s going to save us, I promise” you say to them with a weary smile, pressing a kiss to their cheeks but your kids don’t copy you this time.

“Mommy?” You daughter calls out and you turn your attention to her.

“Do you really believe we can escape daddy?”

She knows.

A tear escapes your eyes at her words. Your daughter’s words held the self awareness you had long lost. She knew all along, you were too blinded in defence to see.

She knew daddy wasn’t a good man. She knew daddy was the reason mommy cries alone. She knew daddies aren’t supposed to disappear then return like nothing happened. She knew it wasn’t a “holiday”. She knew daddy isn’t nice.

She knew daddy was strong, she knew mommy can’t defeat the strong.

You shake your head frantically at her. “NO NO NO! Mommy will bring us back to the city! I can do it princess I promise! J-just give mommy time!” You scream as you frantically shake your daughter’s shoulder.

But the child could only stare at you in sorrow. A silent mourning for the shell of a woman her mommy once was.

You continue to cry and scream empty promises to the children. The children who ignore your pleas and hug you, just like how you always hug them when they’re sad.

Suddenly you all hear a white noise. You look up into the sky and notice a familiar tall man with white hair in the sky.

You smile in defeat. He was always going to find you. How stupid could you have been to ever try to escape him? You belong to him after all.

You hear him reach the ground and yell out your name “Y/N!”. The gash on your stomach almost immediately stings at the same time, you hiss in pain.

He calls out your name again. And you try to ignore the sting from the wound with his voice. You pretend it’s Gojo from a few years ago calling out to you.

flashback

“Y/n! Baby come try my pasta!”

“It’s probably gonna taste icky!” You tease, making the sorcerer roll his eyes playfully before he spoon feeds you the pasta.

“Mm! This is surprisingly good!” You praise him making him give you a charming smile. “Of course it is! I bet my baby liked it too!” He said, rubbing your pregnant belly, placing a kiss on it. You giggle at his adoration, before it turns into a state a confusion when he passes you to spoon.

“Right! It’s your turn to feed me now!” He says before opening his mouth ready.

You giggle at his antics but you don’t even question it, indulging in your husbands fun and feeding him. You lick the sauce off the spoon and he looks at you with a smirk.

“Now don’t tease me Mrs Gojo, otherwise we’ll have a baby no.2 on the way” he teases as he pulls you into his lap, kissing your cheeks and belly.

“Oi y/n!! Stay awake, what going on? Why did you keep on running?? Why are you bleeding out!!!” You hear his frantic voice.

Your vision blurs and you can just about make out his wickedly handsome face. Oh how you wish you could bring back the old days with him, the things you’d do just to kiss him with a bit of love again.

You hear the soft cries of your kids. You failed them. You want to reach out and wipe their tears but you can’t move your arms.

That demon must’ve had poisoned you when it sliced you, now came the inevitable.

Are you dying? Maybe. It doesn’t feel too bad.

“No no y/n! Stay with me! Listen to me-! I love you okay? Just hold on I- no kids- stop crying! I love you y/n! I’m sorry please stay with me-!” You hear his pleas.

You smile. It’s all you ever wanted to hear. You just wanted to know you were worth loving, it’s a shame it’s too late.

And just like that

Your vision goes black.

The end.

A/N: welp I hope you enjoyed! 💗 and for all my softie followers I promise I will mend your hearts with the epilogue! <3

[spice-chan]

As someone who grew up watching a 1001 Arabian nights I absolutely loved this!

𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖐𝖎𝖘𝖘, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖙

summary: the king has been struck by never-ending grief when he found out about his wife's infidelity. he has her ordered to be killed, but afterward, he is no longer the same. every night he marries a woman, and every morning he has her killed. the endless cycle continues until the night you're chosen to be his wife. instead of letting him ruin you, you tell him a story. you tell him a story that he just has to know the ending to. and so begins the story of one thousand and one arabian nights.

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, royal au, based off of the story from 1001 arabian nights

word count: 10.7k+

warnings: dark content, mdni, 18+, mentions of killing, mentions of taking virginity, has the gallows and a noose in it, praise!kink, corruption!kink, cunnilingus, fingering, cum eating

note: for those who don't know, baba means dad, and aziz/azizam means my dear in farsi. this story loosely follows 1001 arabian nights, but not completely. i wasn't gonna sit on my ass and write them all out 💀

also a big, big, thank you to @jadeisthirsting for beta reading, ty sm bby!!

jjk masterlist

---

The palace smelled deeply of rose petals, a scent so distinctly comforting that you couldn’t help but smile giddily as you walked down the vast halls, looking at the different amenities the palace had to offer as you searched for the room you knew your father would be residing in. 

The more you walked, the darker the halls got and the less the smell of rose lingered in the air, a warning to stay away from this part of the palace. Though you had no choice but to ignore the prominent warnings, your posture became more frigid as you hummed a tune you had heard in the bazaar to keep yourself busy. 

You were well aware of the fact that your father resided right next to the king's quarters, so as you slowly opened his door to make sure no noise was heard, entering as you noted your father sitting on the edge of his bed, his wrinkly hands enveloping his tethered face as he could barely bring himself up to look at you.

“Baba,” Your heart dropped, running over to his frail body, your hands checking his forehead as your eyes filled with worry, “What’s wrong? Does your back hurt? Oh,” You noted his worn-out hands, “You have to let the king find another vizier,” You kneaded his hand with yours, “You cannot be his helper forever,” You cracked a gentle smile, but instead of his usual banter, he shook his head, still not looking up from his bed as he sniffled.

“Baba?” Your voice dropped to a whisper. Your father never cried. Never. Not when your mother died, not when the old king died, or even when you had managed to ruin his silken clothing. Despite his hardships, he was the man of the household, and he held himself to that standard.

But here, he looked like the shell of a man. His shoulders were hunched, lips pale as he shuddered, pushing your hands off of his back as he weakly stood up. 

“Y/n,” He stared at the door, eyes quite dead as he refused to look your way, terrified that if he did he would crumble to his knees and beg for an apology. Even worse, if he looked at you, his resolve would shatter and he’d leave the room as fast as he could, “Azizam,” You watched as a singular tear rolled down his cheek, “You will have to forgive me.”

You shakily rose, brows scrunched up in confusion as you let out a question laugh, walking over to him to see what he was talking about, what had gotten him so shaken up that he used such an endearing nickname he had never used before this day.

“The king has asked for you to spend the evening with him,” He muttered, voice hoarse and raspy as he broke down into tears again. 

“He…” Your shaky hands flew to your lips, eyes wide as you stumbled back, “He what?” Your frantic questions went unanswered as your father let more of his endless tears fall, wet lips holding back silent sobs as he turned back.

The king, a dreaded name for those around the palace. You childishly thought that being the daughter of the vizier would somehow spare you of the torture, of the horror that came with going into his quarters at midnight. 

He said nothing as he crumpled down to the floor, hands covering his eyes as you stared at the door, the same one you had entered through, and the same one that seemed to mock you as your hands shook at your side. 

One evening pleasuring the king meant spending the next morning dead.

---

Servants flocked to the room shortly thereafter.

They paid no attention to the old man as they ushered you outside, their nimble fingers working swiftly as they led you to a completely different room, stripping you bare as you worked mindlessly.

You fell into the large basin, cold water splashing across your body as they worked in silence, some here and there whispering words of pity to one another as they gossiped about your father's weakened state.

You knew that deep down, sooner or later, this day would come. That one night they will take you to get clean and pretty so that the king can spend his lonely night with a virgin to bed, and by morning have her dead so that she may not betray him.

You could guess why you were giving off no emotions as their hands scraped your body rid of the dirt and dust, rubbing rose petals across your flesh, running water through your hair as they worked quickly and effortlessly. 

At this point, you knew they had done this many times to know to be quick with the king's impatient temper.

You seemed to be like a mindless doll as they carried you out of the tub, staying quiet as one lady braided your hair, gentle as she wove flowers into the crown of your head. 

You watched as the other carefully dotted the roses across your cheeks, dipping her finger into the jar of honey as she brought it up, careful not to let any of it to waste as she swiped it across your lips, her eyes filled with deep sorrow as you stared out the windows and into the dark veil of night.

“You look very beautiful, azizam,” The old lady behind you muttered, her kind hands letting go of your hair as she gave your shoulder a gentle pat, “I’m sure your father would be proud of his daughter for serving the nation. 

Serving the nation in your one day demise.

“You have not been…” The old lady sighed, looking away as her hands fell to her side, “You have not been bedded yet, yes?”

You slowly shook your head, muttering out a quiet no as she nodded, ushering out all the other ladies as she came to your view, dropping down so that she was level with your knees.

“You are the vizier's daughter, so you must know,” She stated, her hands holding your cold ones as she pressed a soft kiss to the backside of it, “After you go into his room, he will tell you what he wants. When morning comes, he will have you killed.”

“I have heard it’s quick and painless, " She sighed, giving you a sad smile, “Yet those who have experienced it cannot tell the tale, and so I don’t want you to weigh too deeply on my words, okay aziz?”

The old lady looked down at your hands as she took in a shaky breath, lifting your chin as she patted your cheek carefully. 

“The time is almost midnight,” She said and your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, “He should be expecting us soon.”

---

His quarters were cold, that was the first thing you noticed. 

You expected frost to be on the windows, and your breath to be visible in the moonlight, but you could only shudder as you looked around the candle-lit room, wondering when the apparent king was going to make his appearance. 

Your shoulders were covered by the robes they had given you, but you still shivered as you took a slow step forward, expecting an echo to follow suit. 

You jumped when the door behind you clicked opened, and you looked behind to see his looming shadow behind you, growing slowly as he took steps forward, and you could feel his icy gaze taking you in.

His white hair matched the surroundings, and his eyes, oh his eyes. So blue, such a color seemed to be unknown to humankind. You wanted to reach in and hold his face so you could see if he had diamonds in his sockets, but you knew to restrain yourself, straining your spine as you matched his stare.

You had heard of the king's attractive outward appearance. Even when he had ordered for his old wife and her concubines to be executed, many of the women of the nation volunteered to fill her place as they never thought a man with such grace could be so cruel. 

“My king,” You said with a deep bow, the shawl that loosely covered your shoulders almost slipping off your skin at the movement. 

“Are you Y/n?” He asked, his voice deep and rich as he circled you, taking in your hair, the way your face seemed to shine brightly with the help of the candles, and how the robe around your shoulder hung snuggly around your body. 

“Yes,” You bit out, swallowing your fear as you turned with him, not wanting the man to see your true emotions. 

“You’re the oldest daughter of Ja’far?” His gaze traveled across your frame, settling seconds longer on your lips until they left as they glanced at the window. 

“Yes,” You said through clenched teeth, the unsettling blue in his eyes reminding you that you were simply a lamb in the lion's den. 

You watched as he slowly nodded, his jaw set in place as he glanced around the room, his nose wrinkling at the overpowering rose scent that lingered in your neck and wrists. 

“I’m Satoru,” He said, though you already knew that, “And I can assure you that these next hours aren’t as you’ve heard,” He mentioned with a tilt in his voice, but that only made your heartbeat more erratically, most likely the opposite of how he wanted you to react.

He worked by taking his gloves off, slender finger after slender finger, and he dropped them somewhere to the side, running a hand through his hair as he turned his back towards you, sighing deeply as he pinched his nose.

He moved to get something behind you, a drink the servants had laid out for him as he took in a heavy sip, his lips tainted red with the wine as he stared at the back of your head. 

His hands were slow yet delicate as they found their way up to your hips, and you let out a quiet yelp as you felt his cold fingers tracing the patterns that adorned your robes. 

“You’re pretty,” He muttered, his breath fanning over the skin of your neck, making you shiver, almost making you forget where you were as you felt your knees wobble from the weight of your body, “Haven’t seen you before, have I?” And you weakly shook your head, your heart pounding roughly against your ribcage as you felt his lips land on the skin beneath your ear, surprisingly gentle and warm as they kissed and nipped.

“You’re sweet, too,” He observed, and you could have sworn that have only lined your lips with honey, but he seemed intent on his statement, his lips moving more quickly as his hands reached up to the strings that tie your robes together.

And you froze, knowing that if he were to proceed, he’d surely kill you in the morning. And wouldn’t allow yourself to die tomorrow. You could not die to a man who wanted nothing more than to take your humanity and then dispose of you as if you were stale rice. You had a life planned outside of the palace walls, and you knew that deep down, this king could be manipulated in his fragile state of mind.

Your eyes darted around the room, trying to find anything to secure yourself until they landed on a jeweled knife, its handle crusted in rubies and emeralds and your eyes widened slightly with a mad, certainly mad, idea.

It was sharp and cleaned with precision. Sharp and versatile, and you didn’t doubt he had used it in the act of killing. 

“That knife!” You sputtered out, stuttering as you stumbled forward out of his grasp, almost hoping you could swallow the words back at the way he snapped his head towards you.

“What?” 

“A man once used that exact knife to get through the mountains of Zagros,” You quickly regained yourself, mind running quickly, two sides of yourself debating between doing this or sleeping with the king to quicken your eventual death.

The king stared at the knife for a couple of seconds before looking at you once again, his brows furrowed. 

“Excuse me?”

You straightened your shoulders once again, clearing your throat as you tried to regain your confidence. 

“A man that went by the name Aghā Ali,” You said, voice barely coming out of your throat as you tried to think of something as quickly as you could in your messed state, “When his daughter fell ill to the plague, he became desperate to find a cure. The village apothecary told him to go to the Zagros mountains and cut the red flowers he’d find in a field,” You nodded your head in the direction of the knife, “And he used a knife just like that one to cut the stem of the flowers when he found them…”

Silence fell in the space between the two of you, and you could see the rise and fall of his chest as millions of ideas running through his crystalline eyes.

“Are you telling me a story?” He asked incredulously, almost as if he couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.

You cleared your throat, trying to shrug it off as you stared back at the knife.

“I’m simply stating that a man once used that knife before to save his daughter.”

“How do you know he used my knife?” He was testing you now, you could easily tell. His lips had curved into an evil smile, a cat's grin as he took a step closer to you, sensing the fear that still radiated off from your body. 

“W-well, not your knife, but one that looked much like that,” You explained, swallowing dryly as you tried for a sweet smile, one that he might like, as you continued.

“His late wife had given it to him as a present, and so he used it wherever he went, for whatever that he could.”

The king didn’t say anything, so you took it as a sign that he wasn’t angry yet.

So you moved, putting on the facade of somebody confident in their story as you slyly moved behind him, causing him to follow your quick feet as you walked over to the table, careful as you picked up the heavy dagger.

It was strange in your hand, and you could tell how uneasy he felt with the weapon in your hand. 

So you set it down, nodding as you swallowed your spit once again.

“Ali didn’t know his way around the mountains, so he got lost frequently in search of the flower,” Your fingers traced the rubies, shaking as you turned the knife over, running a pinger across the blade as you winced when it slit your skin, your blood staining it a bright red as you felt his eyes follow you. 

“And because he had no map he went off of instinct alone,” You moved around the table, eyes darting to the slick pillows and shawls fit for a king. 

“At night, he would lay under the moon and use his knife as a way to cut the animals open so that he could eat them for dinner. The mountains didn’t have anything big such as deer or goat, but he could hunt the occasional rabbits, even duck if he were lucky enough to pass by a lake.” You looked up at him from your lashes to see what he was doing, and much to your surprise he was staring back just as intently. 

“The man knew that with each passing day his daughter would be getting sick and sicker, and though she was stronger than his wife in terms of physical strength, the plague took no longer than a month to kill even the strongest of the king's soldiers, according to the village apothecary.”

Your robes felt heavy on your sides as you moved around the room, feeling the weight of everything slow you down as you tried to quickly think of more things to drag the story on. 

“So he continued the track across the mountain, getting weaker by the hour, more tired by the minute and he still could not find the flowers he needed to heal his daughter.”

“Why go through so much?” The king interrupted, clearly annoyed with the way your story was going. 

You stammered at the question, brows furrowing as you tried to make sense of it. 

“Go through so much?” You repeated, shaking your head, forgetting who you were and where you were as you tilted your head to the side, “ I’m not sure I understand,”

He shook his head, looking at the dagger as he simply shrugged. 

“The old man must be withering away in these conditions. If the girl would die in a matter of weeks, why should he push himself to such an extent?”

“Because it’s his daughter,” You quickly argued back, eyes narrowing as the king moved forward, taking off his heavy coats as he sighed in relief at the release of the material. 

“And?” 

“Well…” You sighed; realizing this must be difficult to explain to this particular man, “He cares for her and he doesn’t like to see his daughter in pain. He’s going through all this hard to make sure that she’ll be alright.” He scoffed as his hands found their way to a bowl, taking out one of the dates as he chewed on it before he spits the seed out. 

“That seems like a figment of the imagination,” The king chewed and then swallowed, his blue eyes never leaving yours as he explained, “Fathers don’t care much for their daughters.”

A part of you boiled in outrage at the statement. 

“Perhaps some don’t, my king, but that doesn’t mean all fathers carry no ounce of care for their daughters,” He could see your tremor fade off as it soon got replaced with fiery anger. 

“No?” He asked coyly, talking out another date as he repeated the same actions. 

“No,” You said without letting your voice waver. 

“Then why did your father offer you up tonight? Surely he could have picked your other sister if he cared for you that much. Or the servant that’s standing right outside my door. Or maybe even the girl who cleans up the horse shit in the stables. Surely a fathers love my reach beyond that point, no?”

You could feel your resolve crumble as you listened to his words, your heart heavy isn’t the small expanse of your chest as you refused to breathe properly. 

Did he simply offer you up as easily as the king was saying? Just like a lamb for slaughter?

“Just as I was saying,” He continued, happy with your obvious shock, “I find it rather hard to believe that Ali would go through the mountains of Zagros to find a flower for his dying daughter.”

He looked pleased with your silent state, watching keenly as you swallowed the thick lump accumulating in your throat. You took in a deep breath, controlling the shake in your voice as you stared at something behind him. 

“The old man was relentless,” You continued the story, pretending that your conversation with the king was nothing, and missed the way his face fell for a second, taken back by the way you could compose yourself with clear tears making their way into your waterline, “But the flower was hard to find.”

“One night as the man was cleaning out his rabbit, he stopped when he noticed the rabbit had red petals lining the fur near its lips.”

“And so he cut the stomach to find it full of red petals, the same color as the flower he was so desperately trying to find.”

“The next day he went in search of rabbits with the same fur, and that night he was able to catch another one with the same petals in its stomach.”

“And so the old man followed the trail of rabbits until he one day, miraculously stumbled across a field full of the red flowers.”

“He was eager as he stuffed them in his satchel, memorizing the path he had taken as he passed by the old streams and lines of trees, his bad bursting at the seam with red relates and green stems.”

You stopped, tilting your head to the side as you gave out another yawn, oblivious to the fact that in the minutes you had spent thinking of more to tell, and in the hours you had spent explaining the complexity of the story to the king, the sun had begun peeking its way through the mountains. 

“So when he got back home, his daughter told him that she only had a couple of days left to live before the plague got to her,” You didn’t notice how the king had risen from his satin seat, walking slowly over to you as his impatience got the best of him. 

“And then?”

You whipped your head around at the sound, heart beating wildly in your chest at his unexpected voice. 

“He cut the flowers up and mixed them in with tea, and each day he’d double the amount of the flowers he would use,” Your bodies were close to each other, so close that despite his tall stance you could feel his breath hitting your cheek, his eyes following the rise and fall do your chest. 

“Did she not like the tea?” His voice was taunting and you shook your head, trying for the same menacing smile he was giving you. 

“No,” You moved away from him, your robes swaying behind you as his gaze traveled across your swift movements, “She loved it. Each day she’d ask for triple the number of flowers instead of double,” Your eyes were trained on the window that pointed to the east. 

“But,” You gnawed on your lip, “Ali didn’t realize that what he was doing was wrong,” You could hear him moving from behind you, his feet padded on the ground. 

“And why is that?”

Your eyes darted to the window, the way the sun amazingly shone through the stained glass and colored his snow hair a mix of blues and yellows, something that your somber mind never thought you’d see again. 

“The sun is coming up, my king,” You noted, your voice catching in the back of your throat as if you couldn’t believe what you were saying. It seemed that he too, couldn’t believe such a thing as he looked behind himself in doubt. 

The two of you said nothing as his eyes widened for a second, lips parted in a shock as he looked at you in relative incredulity. 

“My king…” You whispered, voice hoarse as you swallowed thickly, praying that your devious plan was working its way to the man, “What should I do?”

The king could only stare at you in somewhat disbelief, eyes narrowing as he rubbed tiredly at his eyes, a yawn escaping his lips as his kind ran with millions of thoughts about what he should do with you. 

Never had somebody stalled him for the entirety of the night, let alone made him want to know more about the woman before he had her ordered to be killed. And despite him deep down knowing that this would surely ruin everything he had done to barricade his lonely heart, he shook his head slowly, brows scrunched up in confusion as he admitted to himself that he wanted to know the rest of your story. 

“No,” He muttered out to himself, shaking his head as he glanced over at you, but it weighed heavily in the expanse of his room, “Come tonight and finish the story.”

And he didn’t need to say it to know that you had managed to get the king hooked. 

---

When the door creaked open with the maids once again lamentable at the fact that they’d be leading you to your death, they were surprised to still find your robes adjourning your shoulders, and the look of both dissatisfaction and something more lining the king's face.

They all stared at him, waiting for the same orders that would tumble out of his mouth every morning, but he just waved them aside, pinching the bridge of his nose as he muttered out a quiet, “I expect you to finish tonight,” Before he shrugged his coat back on as he stalked out of the room.

As he moved past the servants, all the ladies stared back at you, mouths hanging open in shock, their hearts pounding in their ears, mirroring yours as the old lady who had bathed you the night before took a tentative step into the bedroom. 

“Y/n…?” She asked slowly, testing to see how you would react, to see if he had done anything that could have broken both you and the cruel king to such a point, “Is everything alright?”

You stared at her, giving her a slow nod of your head as you couldn’t believe you were able to see the sun rising and hear the laughs of bewilderment that came from the servants behind the old lady.

“Did he say he wants to see her again?” One of the younger girls peeped up, and everyone snapped their heads over to her, the question everybody was wondering finally spoken out loud.

“I think he did,” One of the girls behind her answered, still not believing what they were hearing.

“What did you do?” Another one asked, testing gazes all focused on you, curious, begging to know just what you had done to break the streak of killings.

“I,” You sighed, rubbing your throat as you pushed some hair behind your ears, letting out a skeptical laugh, “I just told him a story.”

---

That night, they did the same thing as the previous one.

They stripped you down, this time a bit more gentle as they weren't much grime to scrub off, but still generous in the amount of fragrance they dabbed all over your body. 

“Tonight,” The old lady who you had come to learn was named Nasreen, muttered softly, quiet enough for only you to hear, “Draw out your stories. Make them more interesting than the last,” She whispered into your ear as she led you back towards the king's quarters, “I have never seen the king so,” She paused looking for the right word, “Forgiving as he was last night. You must have made an impact on him,” Her voice was laced with pride yet worried, “Don’t forget to make him more enthralled tonight than the last, alright?”

You merely nodded, tongue heavy in your mouth as you thought of all the stories you had come up with in the hours leading up to now, that in the hassle of the palace trying to get you prepared for the king you came up with the most fantastical stories you could think of. 

“Y/n,” She stopped you right behind the familiar door, “I wish you all the luck,” She pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, scuffling away as the clock near midnight once again, fearful that if she stayed long enough she’d get too attached to you. And she had learned her lesson before.

Your eyes were trained on the door handle, hands filled with heavy lead as you raised them to the gold knob, giving it a slow twist as it opened easily into the freezing room.

It was dark, just as you remembered it being the previous night. The chilly air wrapped itself unwillingly across your frame, and with each heavy step, you took forward, the more dread-filled itself inside your head.

“Close the door,” His voice called out from the bundle of blankets and pillows that were laid out on the floor. You jumped when you noticed he had been there the entire time, shutting the wood quickly behind you as you shuffled inside.

“My king,” You gave him the customary bow, your heart pounding roughly in your ears as you heard some noise come from his side of the room, the ruffling of fabrics as he stood up, walking his distance towards you.

He said nothing as you lifted your head, his sapphirine eyes meeting yours as they stared boredly ahead, as if he could be more amused, and grunted, muttering something to himself as he walked away, picking up a date from the bowl as he pitted it and munched on it slowly.

“You seem displeased,” He noted, looking at your frigid body, “Are you not comfortable?” His white hair moved as he tilted his head to the side, trying to figure out why you seemed so reserved.

You chuckled a bit in surprise, not thinking him to be of the right mind to ask such a question.

“My king,” You started, thinking of the nicest way to phrase what you were going to say next, “Forgive my outward appearance but…” You laughed again, almost to yourself that he could even be confused, “I must admit, I have reason to be drawn away.”

He looked back at you, eyebrow cocked as your fingers picked at each other, your mouth brought in a thin line as you looked around the room, anywhere to escape his heavy gaze.

“If you are not comfortable standing,” He gestured to the space to his side, “There is ample room for you to reside as you finish your story,”

You swallowed thickly, thinking of what would happen if you agreed to his offer. Sitting next to him, in such proximity, could insinuate things that you were trying to hold off for as long as you could.

But your feet were already tired from standing for so long last night, and with the hecticness of the day that followed, you found your body disobeying your rational mind as it slowly brought you over to his residing area.

You could see his sly grin growing at your willingness to come over, and you watched as he moved his slender legs to the side, letting you almost break to the ground as you let out a small groan of pleasure at how soft the fabric lay beneath you.

His eyes widened slightly at the sound, his heart beating rapidly as your lids shut for a second, your face momentarily blissed out as you craved for such relaxation until they snapped back open, remembering just where you were.

“S-so,” You cleared your throat, moving away as far as you could as you rest your back on the wall, “If you so please, I can continue with the story of Aghā Ali.” You paused to see his reaction, and he gave a little nod of his head, allowing for you to continue.

“The flowers he had been told to get from the mountain were useless, and even worse, doing more damage than good. The apothecary who told him to find the flowers was a greedy man who had been in love with Ali’s wife, and now daughter, and could only see them as his own or as dead.” You peeked over to see what the king was doing and was somewhat surprised to see him staring back intently at you.

“In a jealous and insane rage, the apothecary had been poisoning the bread that Ali and his daughter ate, and despite all his best tries, Ali seemed immune to the lethal dosages he was receiving. So, in hopes of trying to get rid of him, he told Ali that the flowers found in the Zagros mountains would be the only cure,” He sat up, supporting his head in his hands as his eyes narrowed.

“Why not kill him?” He asked and you paused, licking your lips as you smiled, glad to have anticipated his question beforehand.

“Because killing Ali would mean that he would no longer be allowed to go to Jannah, and the apothecary was weary of the sins he committed.” His eyes shined a darker shade of blue at your statement. 

“Unfortunately for the apothecary, Ali was a bright man and could pick up on the flowers' dangerous properties. Ali was also aware of the apothecary’s jealous fit and quickly put the two and two together. So, instead of wasting time spending his rage on the apothecary, he decided to wait.” You crossed your ankles together, adjusting your robe as you shivered, the air still cold no matter how much you adjusted your shawl.

“To wait?” He interrupted, lips pursed and brows furrowed in confusion. You got worried that he was losing his interest in your story, but he sat up, his white hair falling as curls on his face, eyes still shimmering blue as he tilted his head, “He decided to wait?” 

His childish demeanor not only made you startled, but you could help but let your lips tug into a smile, and you tried to cover it up with a cough as you nodded.

“Ali was a very observant man. He could tell that whenever his daughter ate the bread, the sicker she got. So he waited, feeding her only bone broth and tea, without the flowers, of course,”

“And just as Ali had suspected after he stopped feeding her the bread and the flowers, she got healthier with each passing day. When the apothecary realized that Ali had once again won over his devious plan, he gave up,” You looked over to the jewel-encrusted knife, “And the apothecary slit his throat as a final testimony to his dying will.”

You could see how the king's eyes widened, his lips parting as he became even more confused. 

“That's it?” He interjected, “He dies?” Bile rose to your throat, terrified that you had only upset the king until you tried to calm yourself down, your plan steady in your head as you raised your hands in a gesture to calm him down.

“For that story, yes, my king, but I also happen to know another story that you might enjoy,” It was a sudden change, but you wanted him to forget who he was for a second, to look past everything so that you could continue.

You could see something happening behind his stoic gaze, how his eyes narrowed once again, trying to sniff out your ingenuity, but you offered him a tender smile, one that held more behind it than he could tell, and the king only sighed, laced with annoyance and anger because of your stranglehold on his curiosity, and he glanced out the window.

“Well, hurry on with it,” He muttered, falling back down as he picked up another date to chew on. 

And you grinned widely and didn’t care if he could see.

“My king, I doubt you’ve heard the story of the seven voyages of Sinbad…”

---

And so, the cycle continued.

You found yourself in his quarters night after night, evading death by ending on a cliffhanger that the king could only hear if he extended your death by one more day. Every night, you’d finish the story and start on another, prompting the king to a circle of never-ending stories.

The palace, stalked by your boldness to make the king enamored by your storytelling, began working like clockwork, giving you time to yourself to sleep during the day, as well as time to think up new and enticing stories the king may like.

You could tell he had a knack for adventures, and so you tried to make each one more exciting than the last. He was fond of poems of love and war, though he seemed to prefer stories of erotica more.

He was cruel, and even in the daytime, when you didn’t see much of him, you heard of his doings. While he seemed to be keen on not killing you until you run dry of things to tell, he still ruled with an iron fist, and the woes of the nation were only going unheard.

“Y/n,” The king interrupted you one night, pushing himself up by the elbows as he looked at you in your bundled-up corner, “What do you see?”

Your brows scrunched up in confusion at his question, and you squint to see what he was looking at.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I understand,” Your fingers fidgeted with one another as the king scoffed and he licked his teeth, weaving his hand through his hair as he motioned for you to come closer to him.

You slowly obliged, crawling over to where he was sitting as you gave yourself some space from his side.

You could notice his features more clearly here when the candle could illuminate his features better. His hair was arctic white, white than the snow that would litter the ground in the colder months. And his skin was pale and easily flushed red, almost as if the man refused to go outside in the summer. And his eyes, you could recall just how entranced they made you when you saw them at first. They seemed so hypnotizing, so surreal, that had this man not sent a chill through your bones, they might have put you under his charms spell.

“In the paintings, what do you see?” His eyes were trained on the wall, and you looked ahead, your mind reeling as you took in the different men and women painted in the photo, and what the artist could have meant when they drew it.

“I see…” You looked a bit longer, tilting your head to the right to get a better view, “A man being seduced by a woman,” You inspected the painting longer, “She seems like a witch of some sorts, maybe an enchantress,” You gnawed on your lip as you took in the background of the mural, “And she’s been able to lure him to his demise, judging by the red on her robes.”

You looked to the side to see what the king was thinking, only to him glancing at you, and you felt your cheeks heat up as you quickly looked away.

“I don’t see where you got the seducing aspect,” He admitted, and he shifted his weight onto his other hand.

Your brows furrowed at how he could miss such an obvious message. You raised your hand, pointing out to the woman as he followed the direction, “You see how her wrist is turned as she’s greeting him? Normally, you’d see people who try to romance one another have opening gestures, but she'd be more closed off and alluring. She dressed in red with minimal jewelry, which can mean that the man prefers somebody dressed down rather than inviting.” You explain and the king let out a small chuckle.

“You got all that from how her wrists were turned?” Your cheeks heated up once again as his eyes twinkle at your obvious embarrassment, and you looked away, shrugging as his smile only grew.

“Many of the artists I know explain the little details to me,” You muttered, “And you asked how I interpreted the piece. You got my answer,” He wanted to coo at the way your lips pouted, at how much less tense you seemed to be over time, and just how alluring you seemed to be when you childishly scooted away from him.

“You know artists?” He asked, perplexed by the outside life you shared and he knew little of it.

“Of course,” You nodded, “The bazaar is full of them. If I have time I walk around aimlessly, for the fun of it. You meet many interesting people where you’d least expect them,” You rubbed your nose, your eyelids growing heavier as the night continued.

“The bazaar,” He repeated to himself, and you glanced over to see him looking longingly at the painting, “I used to be quite the fanatic of the bustling streets.”

“You don’t go anymore?” You asked and he shook his head. Had he not been adorned in royal clothing and his title so glaringly obvious, you would have felt as though you were having a simple conversation with a friend, not the tyrant king everybody had come to fear.

“They’ve become a rather dark staple for me,” He admitted, “I can’t say I’m most eager to go back.”

You scoffed, your shoulder shoving his as his eyes widened in surprise by your out-of-character move.

“Everything has become a dark staple for you, my king. You cannot expect to outlive your past if everything you see reminds you of it,” Even sitting, he towered over you, and he had to crane his neck to stare at you in the eyes.

“There are some things I prefer to remember,” He gritted out, his lips turned into an unpleasant snarl as his eyes darkened, clouded by memories.

“I’m not saying you should forget, my king,” You toned your voice down in hopes of calming him down, “I’m saying that you move on.”

He scoffed, cheeks tinted a fiery red as he puffed his cheeks out, his stance now defensive as he turned his head away from you.

“What should you know?” He bit out, rolling his eyes at the thought of somebody like you understanding the utter betrayal he had gone through. The feeling of his heart being ripped apart piece by piece until everything in him stopped functioning because his entire world had come crumbling down.

“I don’t know,” You told him, your voice soft as if carrying itself to his fragile mind, “But heartbreak is an unstoppable force, my king, and you cannot stop it from ruining your state of being. But it’s better if you move on and be-”

“I can’t move on!” He instantly roared, his voice shaking as he whipped around towards you, his shadow great in size as it dwarfed you in its presence, “Can’t you see that?” His voice wobbled for a second, and in his shaking glare, you could see his eyes water, how they seemed to dim in their crystalline glow as his lips shook.

You raised a hand to his chest, gently pushing him back as he easily complied, and you sighed, pushing some hair out of your forehead as silent tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Your wife is dead, my king. You had her killed. She cannot haunt you any more than in thoughts,” You could hear his sniffles, how he shook when he took in a breath.

“I can’t move on,” He repeated thickly, “It hurts so much,” 

“The pain is bare, my king,” You said slowly, “But what you have caused in its wake is destruction. You cannot think yourself to be healing in the act of death.”

You had feared you had said too much, but he only looked at you, hiccups leaving his mouth as his head fell onto your shoulder, and felt his tears wetly stain your robes.

“You don’t deserve this,” He said, “They didn’t deserve it,” He groaned into your coat as if realization was finally dawning on him.

“I’m sorry,” He wept out, and at this moment he was no longer a king, but a weak man who had his share of the world. He muttered it out over and over again until his cries and his apologies filled the air in the royal room.

You didn’t know who he was apologizing to. To you, to the women, he had killed, to himself, or to the man he killed when he began his endless cycle of murder.

“Satoru?” You tried for the first time, his name foreign on your tongue you felt his shaking stop, his wet lips breaths away from your skin that was revealed as he accidentally tugged on your robes.

“Stay,” He whispered into your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he moved around, shuffling so that he was off of your body, yet somehow he managed to bring you onto his lap, “I don’t care for a story,” He muttered as he looked up at you, “Sleep here tonight,” His large hands steadied themselves on your hips, gentle as you slowly nodded, his lips wet as they traced the skin near yours, soft and caring, a far cry from how you thought they’d be.

“But…” You were worried that he'd be tired of you by morning, realizing that you’re not what he bargained for, but the king shook his head, almost as if he could read your thoughts.

“I just want you to stay, nothing more,” He muttered against your skin, your fingers subconsciously rubbing his hair as he sighed contently at the feeling.

“Okay,” You muttered out, your lash fluttering against your cheek as you nodded, feeling his lips curl into a small smile as you relaxed into his hold, his arm doing all the work as they held you to his chest, cradling you to his body as if you were his only lifeline.

You knew that it was the king that was holding you as if you were his only support, that without you to hold at this moment he would sink into the floor below your bodies and disappear forever.

---

When morning came you felt a heavy arm wrap itself around your waist, and your eyes groggily opened as you felt little puffs of air hitting your neck, and you turned around to find the king fast asleep.

You moved away a bit, and felt his hand dip from your body, and didn’t see his eyes snap open to see you rising, your hair messed up, eyes groggy but still beautiful as he could only stare at the way the sun illuminated your soft skin.

“Morning,” He muttered, not used to waking up to a woman without feeling the ache of the night before, but the way you laughed softly at his tired state brought him back to reality.

“Good morning,” You replied, rubbing your eyes as you yawned, a gentle smile making its way up to your face as you watched him turn onto his back, his eyes still heavy from sleep as you giggled.

“I need some water,” You muttered and he cracked an eye open, getting ready to stand up until you pushed him back down, “I’ll be right back,” You corrected and he grumbled something out, blue eyes shutting anyways as sleep took a hold of the king once again.

You rubbed your eyes one last time before you stood up, groaning quietly as you stretched your legs, making note of the fact that you had never slept so comfortably before as you made your way to the door.

The hallways were lit with candles, and you quietly shut the door behind you as you tiptoed your way out, looking around to find two of the palace guards standing outside, already anticipating you from the way they instantly looked at your frame.

You had never seen them before, and while you were familiar with the guards that usually stood outside, these seemed more menacing than usual.

“Good morning,” You said sheepishly, trying to move past one of them when he blocked the way.

“Um,” You scratched your head, looking around to see if there was anybody familiar, “I’m sorry, but I need a pitcher of water for the king’s room if you’ll let me…” You went to outstep the guard but the second one now blocked your path.

You looked up at them in confusion, your lips pursed together as you laughed uncomfortably.

“May I leave, please?” You tried for another laugh, but their faces remained stoic.

You had never seen them before, and you doubted they knew you judging by the way their faces remained unchanged. Their swords were perched on their hips, and their gazes never altered.

“Come with us, miss,” The first guard said, his voice deep as he took a sudden grip on your elbow, rough as he pulled you away without letting you walk.

“W-wait, excuse me, I just need some water,'' You quickly explained but they said nothing as they led you down the hall, their face never changing as you tried to wrangle out of their tight grips.

“Sirs! Please!” They said nothing as you thrashed around, their hands only holding you with a more bruising force as you tried to break free, “I only need a pitcher, that’s all,” Your eyes were frantic, heart in your throat as you tried to think of anything you had done to warrant such behavior.

“They’re always so fuckin’ rowdy,” One of them muttered to the other, obvious displeasure on his face as his fingers tightened around your arm.

You tried to think of what he was referring to when your eyes widened in understanding.

“The king knows me!” You shouted, “He’s asked for me not to be killed!” You tried to explain but the guards only laughed, and you felt your chest fall as they led you down a passage you had never been through before.

“I’m Y/n!” you explained, but they had no idea who you were, “I’m a friend of the kings!” But you didn’t even know if the king would call you that. You told him stories to keep him entertained and you out of the execution chambers, but these guards snorted at your statement.

With their strength, they had practically lifted you off the ground, and no matter how much you kicked your legs and screamed for them to let you, they seemed intent on leading you to wherever you were headed.

A voice in the back of your head already knew where.

“Please!” You shouted, your eyes tearing up, “Ask the king, he knows me!” And one of the guards behind you decided that he had had enough of your shouting, and used his unused hand to slap it roughly over your mouth, muffling your screams.

Your breathing got shallower and rougher the more you tried to break free, and the darker the hallways got the more your body weakened, and you felt yourself grow limp in their holds as they stopped in front of an iron door.

One reached into his pockets as he brought out some keys, flipping through them until he found the right one. He jammed it in the hole and the door swung open, revealing the horror that you had guessed would be inside.

An array of gallows sat in the middle, the ground littered with dried blood as you screamed again.

“I-I’m his storyteller!” You explain hurriedly, but the guards don’t seem to mind as they bring you closer to the noose, “I tell the king stories!” That got one of the guards to laugh, and you whimpered as the noose came closer into view.

“Ask the king, p-please!” You cried out, tears wetting your eyes as your voice caught in the back of your throat, “I tell him stories! I’m a friend of his!”

It meant nothing to the guards as they heaved you up onto the wooden pedestal, grasping your hands behind your back as they tied it over and over with scratchy rope, their hands rough as they pushed you forward, wrapping some dirtied cloth around your mouth to silence your screams.

You felt your tears collect on the cloth, and you felt lightheaded as one of the men began securing the noose around your throat.

“Stand on the trapdoor,” One of the men gruffed out but you hurriedly shook your head, trying to tell them that you weren’t who they thought you to be.

Tired of your antics, the man shoved your forward, and you stumbled and your eyes widened as the noose tightened around your neck, your breath lodging itself in the little crevices of your lungs.

You watched as the men walked over to the front, their hands outstretched to pull the lever as they stopped when they heard a loud crash happen outside the door.

Three sets of eyes snapped to the iron working as it slammed open, revealing a panting king as he stared widely inside the room, wasting no time as guards poured in, the maids that usually came to collect you in the morning puffing out air as they sighed in relief, relieved to find you alive.

“What the fuck is happening?” Satoru shouted out, his eyes raging as he saw you atop the gallows, cheeks stained with tears, mouth covered, a noose around your neck as he felt his breathing momentarily stop, “Y/n?” His eyes widened in shock as he saw the noose around your neck, your cheeks glistening with tears as your screams were muffled.

His eyes snapped over to the two guards, their expressions comedic had they not been seconds away from killing you.

The king was quick in his movements as he rushed towards you, quick as he climbed the gallow, his slender fingers nimble as they worked the noose off of your neck, and then quick to tug down the tear-stained cloth that covered your mouth.

His eyes were feverish as they searched you, his hands on either side of your face as he checked for injuries.

“Are you,” His voice wavered for a second as you stared back up at him, both of your hearts pounding at the same pace as he tried to catch his breath, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

All of the guards and servants watched in fascination as their ruthless king fell apart, his hands shaking as you smiled gently, shaking your head no to his hurried question.

“I,” Your throat was hoarse, and you realized what had led to this mess in the first place, “I just want some water,” You sheepishly admitted to Gojo’s frantic stare, and could see his resolve crack as he gave you a quick laugh, cradling your head gently as he led you out of the execution chambers and back into the forgiving bright light of the hallways.

---

The following night, the servants were extra careful as they prepared you for the king.

Their hands were more forgiving as they scrubbed the dirt off of your body, and their fingers kind as they slathered lotion upon your neck. Their smiles were caring as they rubbed rose petals across your wrists, and their words were hushed as though not to disturb you.

They could tell without asking questions that you weren’t how you usually were and didn’t doubt that going back into the king's chambers would be more nerve-wracking than ever.

The robes they had dressed you in were softer than usual, and they kept it low with the fragrance as though not to give you a headache after everything you had gone through in the past couple of hours.

“Y/n,” Nasreen gently shook your shoulders to wake you out of your trance, “It’s time to go.”

And so you silently followed her on the familiar path to his room, your head heavy with pain as she knocked once, and then twice on the door.

It swung open after a couple of seconds to reveal the king in a disheveled state, his hair in disarray, eyes darker than usual as he seized you up, opening the door a bit wider so that you could come inside.

It shut quickly behind you, and you didn’t have time to turn around to say goodbye to the old lady before the king, Satoru, had led you inside.

The air was heavy as the two of you refused to look the other in the eye, unsaid guilt present in your stances as you went to open your mouth.

“My king, if you’d so wish, I can contin-” You didn’t have any time to prepare for the way his body threw itself at yours, a heavyweight pushing itself into your chest until you were roughly backed into the wall, his hand the only thing saving your head from bumping harshly into it.

His lips were hungry, ravenous, as they searched yours. They were agile and quick, not giving you time to breathe as his hand cradled your jaw, tilting your head ever so carefully so that he could gain better access to you.

You felt your tongues and teeth clash with one another, and despite your inexperience, you tried to match his quick pace. Any logical reasoning flew out of your head as his soft lips traveled upward, kissing your cheek, your forehead, and anything he could to remind himself that you were alive.

Your eyes opened as you felt him move downwards, his mouth hot against the column of your throat as he nipped at the skin gently, his teeth somehow gentle in their way as though not to hurt the fragile skin.

He’d press chaste kisses anywhere he could, his hands secure on your waist as the king looked up at you, and for the first time since your arrangement, you saw real fear in his sapphire eyes.

“I thought I’d lost you,” He muttered into your skin, his hands grasping onto the fabric of your robes as he tried to tug them off, “Thought I lost you forever.” His voice shook with raw emotion as your hands flew to his hair, bringing him back up as his hands worked at the knots that secured your robes together.

“It’s gonna,” You sighed as the cool hair hit your naked skin, your nipples pebbling up as your cheeks heated up in embarrassment, “It’ll take a lot more to get rid of me, my king.” You tired for a joke but the words died down on your tongue as he latched onto one of your breasts, his hands occupying the other one as he kneaded it.

“Don’t joke about that,” He murmured against you, your nipples glistening with spit as he detached himself from you, “Don’t ever want to think about it.” He whispered, and your eyes fluttered shut as his slender fingers worked their way down to tracing the skin on your stomach, and you almost sealed as they traveled down dangerously to the apex of your thighs.

He fell to his knees, a true sight to behold as his hair ruffled, your hands clawing into his white locks as you weakly held him in place.

His tongue was hot as it licked at your skin, slow as it neared the area where you were sure was burning up and wasted no time as he slid a finger past your folds, into the slickness of your cunt, and you groaned audibly at the feeling.

It was much different from your fingers, and he was skilled as he added another, your eyes and teeth clenching at the stretch.

“You’re doing amazing,” He muttered in awe at the way you sucked him in, at how wet his fingers became from just a couple of seconds fingering you, “You’re so fuckin’ tight - shit - h-haven't you ever been…” And he trailed off when you looked away in embarrassment, and his lips parted in understanding as you covered your mouth to silence your whines.

“Oh darlin’,” He muttered, moving away from your pussy as he came back up, pressing a quick kiss to your lips as your eyes watched his every move, “Have you never been touched before?” And even he seemed to forget that he only wanted virgins, yet you could weakly nod, your skin flushing as he hungrily looked at it.

He’s going to ruin you.

“Well you’re just fucking dripping.” He said thickly, showing you his fingers as you looked away in embarrassment, but he quietly cooed, sleeping his fingers down your mouth, your eyes widening as you close your lips around them, brows furrowing at the odd taste.

“You’re so sweet azizam, better than any of the honey they’ve been rubbing on you.” He muttered, his fingers working quickly as they went in and out quickly, his other thumb rubbing your clit as your eyes rolled back at the heavenly feeling.

“T-toru,” You whined thrashing around in his hold, “F-fuck it feels s-so good,” You hiccupped, your voice weak as you could rarely phrase things together. It was a far cry from how you usually wear, but the man was slowly tearing you apart.

His eyes widened in admiration at how sweetly his name rolled off your tongue, his ministration quickening in pace as he pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He muttered against your skin, his fingers wet with your nectar as you cried into your hand, “Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening at his relentless movements.

“Hmm, Toru, please,” You cried out, your fat tears rolling down your cheek as you couldn’t contain your wanton moans anymore, “Fa-faster!” You were begging, your fingers curling into his hair as he grinned at your unraveling.

More quickly than not, you felt your vision go white, the not snapping as your climax came, the sweet orgasm washing over you as you almost went limp. Had his arms not been supporting you up, you would have crumbled. You could feel yourself spasm around his fingers, but he was slow as he pulled them away, his tongue flushing outwards as he licked them tentatively, moaning at how sweet your essence was as it coated his mouth.

He watched as you went to pull your robes over your body, naively thinking you were done, but Satoru pushed your hands back, shaking his head as his smile menacingly grew.

“I’m not done yet azizam,” He moved up as he kissed your lips, your release flooding your taste buds as his spit mixed with yours, and you moaned into his mouth, not used to such a euphoric feeling, “Gods, Y/n, I’m just gettin’ started.”

---

You woke up to your legs aching and throat hoarse from more than just crying.

Your eyes were blinded momentarily by the sun, but you felt a heavyweight stern across your chest, and you looked down to see Satoru’s long arm covering your bare breasts.

Your cheeks heated up as flashes of last night came to you, and suddenly you could barely think straight, shuffling around so much that it woke the very king up.

He was slow as he tried to remember where he was, but a flash of your hair and your awkward smile made him grin charmingly, his arm tightening around your waist as he pulled you deeper into the warmth of his chest.

“Did I wake you?” You asked quietly into his skin, causing him to shiver as the way your shy hand reached up to hold onto his naked hips, to hold him as if he were a staple into your lifeline.

“I was already awake,” He muttered into your cheek, kissing at the mark he had made the previous night, “You’re a beauty even when you sleep.” He admitted and you duked your head deeper into his chest at his words.

“My king,” You blinked, swallowing thickly as you looked up at him, terrified to find a monster but instead finding a devoted man, his eyes deep as they stared back down, caring as his lips pursed at the title.

“Satoru,” He muttered, “Don’t call me king.” His fingers played with your hair, his white hair wild as you giggled softly.

“Alright, Satoru,” Your nose nudged at his bicep, “I have a confession to make.” You saw him glance down at you in momentary worry but your eyes twinkle in a playful, childish manner, and he grinned right back.

“I have no more stories to tell you,” You whispered, “They’re all done.”

Satoru said nothing for a couple of minutes as his soft breathing filled the air around you two, and your heart stopped for a second before he let out a loud laugh, joyful and juvenile as his eyes crinkled, his ars pulling you deeper into his body if possible as he littered your face with kisses, hugging you as though you were going to whisk away at any moment.

“I was wondering when you'd run out azizam,” He exclaimed, pressing a light kiss to your lips as he looked down at you adoringly, “Because it’s time I return that favor,” He moved your hair out of your face as he pressed another kiss to your forehead, “I doubt you’ve heard the wondrous story of the woman who somehow stole my heart."

[spice-chan]

August : 6

Summary : Y/n has a feeling that Hiro might be gone for good but she is not going to sit and let it happen. A familiar stranger offers help.

Pairing : Gojo x y/n

Warning : Curse words, major yandere themes. drugging, Minors do not interact, 18+ only, word count : 9k+

Ask Box

Previous : Masterlist

Honeymoon period of a relationship is the period when two people have just started dating or going out. It is the period when a person sees all the hidden colors of the world, they smile at strangers, feel the breeze in their hair, wake up with a smile, the food seems tastier and somehow life seems better. But I hate the honeymoon period. It sets a person up for some unrealistic expectations of what is to come and once this period ends the greyscale life begins. Now the same person walks with a resting bitch face and rolls their eyes at a crying toddler in the cafe. You see dear reader, while the honeymoon period shows you all the good your partner has to offer, it also hides their dark side. If it was up to me I would do it all in reverse. See the downs first and then the ups, wouldn’t that be more exciting? more rewarding? 

That’s what Utahime thought to herself as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, so what if her relationship started off rocky? Things are going well now.. This was not the first date she had had with Gojo but something felt different. The black Viviene Westwood dress hugged her curves perfectly, what made the dress even more special was that it was sent by Gojo. This was probably the first gift he had ever given her, well second if she counted the diamond earrings he sent along with the dress, and third if she counted the red roses. She ran her hands down her sides and bit her lip. He had good taste. She blushed thinking how well he knew her measurements even though he had never touched her. She was beyond impressed but she knew better. Her smile faded thinking about all the failed dates of the past, the lunches where he ignored her if he showed up at all, the movie where they bumped into you, the dinner four days ago where he stood her up..again. Though she hadn’t seen much of Gojo this week, the invitation to a private dinner was a nice surprise. Utahime loved surprises.

As she walked towards the private seating area of the most high end restaurant in the city she decided to put the past where the past belonged and focus on the date. Water under the bridge. The doors opened to reveal Gojo, in a black velvet suit standing by the table, smiling at her. She let out a shaky breath. The room was dimly lit, a walkway made of rose petals led her to the table under the chandelier where her fiance stood. She hesitantly walked towards him, her diamond earring formed kaleidoscope shapes on his cheeks, blood rushed to her cheeks when she reached the end of the path and finally got a good look at Gojo. She didn’t think it was possible for any human to look this good. It should be really a sin to look this perfect. His hair that usually fell on his forehead was neatly set aside. His features looked sharp enough to cut her but what a bliss it would be to bleed that way. 

“You look beautiful”. Utahime was snapped out of her trance. “Thank You. You..you look good too”. Gojo smiled and pulled her chair back. 

“I’m glad the dress fits”. Gojo spoke as he settled down in his chair across from her. 

“You have good taste”. She said looking down. She was happy. Too happy, and it scared her.

“Do you like it?”. Gojo asked, reaching for her hand. He felt how she shivered under his touch and it satisfied him greatly.

“I do”. Utahime was set on not letting out more than intended. As advised, she was keeping her replies short. She had every right to be upset with him but the way he was holding her hand made her heart skip a beat.

“I’m sorry Iori”. Sweet words in a sweet voice paired with a sweet smile had Utahime flinching in her seat. “For…for what?”. She stuttered.

“For everything. I know I wasn’t..kind to you. I should have been but I was not. I lived in the past and blamed you for everything when you were just trying to help me. But now I realise how wrong I was. You are my present and my future and I am willing to make it up to you if you give me another chance”.

Utahime was at a loss for words. This was beyond what she had imagined. Was this another one of his elaborate plans? Was he toying with her?

“I know it is hard for you to trust me and I deserve it. But I promise you I will earn your trust back”. Gojo brought her hand to his lips and gently pecked her knuckles. This one gesture brought tears in her eyes. “Do you…do you really mean it?”. She asked in a shaky voice.

“I do”. Gojo nodded and let go of her hand. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet box. “I know we are officially engaged but I never really got to propose to you”. 

Gojo opened the box and pulled out the ring. “Utahime Iori, would you do me the honour of marrying me and making me the happiest man?”. 

This had to be a dream. Utahime bit the inside of her cheeks to come to her senses. Was Gojo proposing to her? Did her plan work? She looked at the shiny rock and drew in a sharp breath. It was no ordinary ring, it was the Gojo family ring. The one she was supposed to get on their wedding, instead it was right in front of her.

“Satoru..I..”.

“I know this might seem unnatural. But after last week I have finally realised what really matters, and it’s you. It’s us. Our family that we have now and the one we will have in future..I understand if you are not ready-”.

“Yes!”. Utahime exclaimed just as Gojo was about to pull back. Gojo smiled to himself as he pulled her old ring out and slid in the new one. “It fits”. She said, smiling with teary eyes. 

“Of course it does. It was meant for you Iori”. Gojo leaned over and wiped the tear off of her cheeks and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead. Utahime thought this must be a dream. It was too good to be true. But it was happening. Her plan had worked perfectly. 

Over the five course meal and a bottle of Cabernet Utahime fell for Gojo all over again. They laughed and talked. He flirted and she blushed. He held her hand and she played with his fingers. He lent her his jacket and she basked in his scent. He kissed her lips and she knew there was nothing she wanted more.

-X-

Utahime woke up in the middle of the night and sighed. This had become a routine, each night when she was sure Gojo was fast asleep she would sneak out to conspire. She rubbed her temple thinking whether all of it was a dream? She brought her other hand up and stared at the new ring and smiled to herself. It was not a dream. It really happened. If the glistening rock wasn’t enough, the heavy hand that rested over her waist confirmed the reality. She placed a chaste kiss on her fiance’s lips before slipping out of bed.

Grabbing her phone from the nightstand she made her way towards the ensuite. Turning behind to confirm that Gojo was indeed asleep she stepped inside the bathroom and locked the door behind her.

Utahime : The plan worked!

N : What? It’s too soon.

Utahime : But it did! He proposed! Again! I said yes! He even  apologised for everything and it was perfect!

N : Are you sure this is not one of his ticks?

Utahime : I am. That wretched woman is finally out of his life! I should have done this long ago.

N : Is she? Has he fired her? 

Utahime : I would ask him later. He said he wants to earn my trust so I am sure she would do it. Guess he finally realised that she had nothing to offer him and now that he thinks she is with another man and carrying his child there is no way he wants her now.

N : Hmm. Maybe. But be careful. Meet me tomorrow evening. Same place same time

Utahime felt guilty. Something about talking to another man while her fiance slept felt wrong..it felt sinful. But she justified it by thinking about the times he left her alone. But this was bigger than that. She wasn’t just talking to any man. She let out a sigh and stood up to wash her face. She had wished for this for the longest time and now that she had it, she didn’t know what to do. As soon as she opened the door she found her fiance standing on the other side of the door. “Are you okay?”. Gojo asked with concern.

Utahime : OK.

Utahime : Can we just get rid of her? I fucking hate her! She pretends to be oh so innocent but I know she's a fucking snake!

N : Calm down. All in good time. We need to be patient.

“Yeah. What are you doing?”.

“I didn’t find you in bed so I got worried”.

“I’m fine, let's go to bed”. 

Utahime Iori was in such a rush to hide her phone as she made way around Gojo,getting in the bed that she failed to notice that his phone screen lit up too.As Utahime closed her eyes in the arms of the one she loved she smiled to herself. His warm embrace took her to a dreamland she had never visited before. With her back pressed against his chest she fell asleep with a smile on her face and she didn’t notice the haunted expression on his face. She didn’t see the anger in his eyes. She felt the warmth of his body but failed to feel the tension it held. While she buried the hatchet, Gojo sharpened his’. 

-X-

Gojo saw you in the office the next day and almost smiled but he remembered your conversation on the rooftop and held himself back. Though it was never easy for him to resist reaching out to you, now that he knew everything it was only getting harder for him. So he decided to stay in his office all day..He was plagued by the truth and disgusted by the lies he had to tell to protect you. But as long as it was for you, he would do it all with a smile on his face. 

Hiro’s confession gave spark to an unfamiliar rage. Gojo wanted to play fair. Play clean. But now that the other side had involved you, purposely, he was not afraid to get his hands dirty. 

“Hi”. The door opened and Utahime walked in. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you?”. Gojo asked with a sweet smile on his face.

“I was thinking about the new resort inauguration in Bali…do you think you could take a week off and maybe we can have a little get away?”. Utahime asked, making her way around the table and carefully sitting in his lap. 

“Hmm…that’s an interesting proposition. But maybe we can work something out”. Gojo winked, making Utahime shriek in happiness. 

“How about we go out tonight? We can start shopping and then dinner maybe?”. Gojo asked, studying her face. Making sure to press the knife deeper into her heart.

Utahime stiffened and got up immediately. “Oh. I forgot to tell you, how silly of me. I have to meet an old friend today. She lives in the states and is visiting for a day so I thought I should catch up. I’ll be leaving office early today”. 

“You can call her over for dinner. I would love to meet your friend”. Gojo asked, relishing in her embarrassment.

“No no. She is..very reserved so I am not sure. Maybe later?”.

“Sure. Just be back home soon and let me know if you need anything else”.

“Thanks”. Utahime hurriedly pecked his lips and walked out. 

-X-

Your anxiety was growing with each passing second. You had tried to focus on work but your mind kept rushing back to the same thought. Where was Hiro? Until two days ago your messages were getting delivered but not anymore. You had tried calling but his phone was turned off. You had tried reaching out to his friends but none of them had heard from him. Making a police complaint did cross your mind but then you realised that he had taken a leave and you can’t file a complaint based on your intuition. You thought of asking Geto but for that you will have to ask Gojo and after your last conversation with him you weren’t sure how to approach him.

“Hi y/n”. Utahiem chirped as she entered your office.Can she hear your thoughts about Gojo? You stood up immediately to greet her. 

“Oh please relax. I just came to chat. How are you doing today? You seem stressed”.

“Yeah. Nothing serious. I’m feeling a bit under the weather today”.

“Oh then I came right on time”. She flashed a pearly white smile which made your stomach churn.

“Is there anything you need?”.

“No. I am getting off work early so you can go early too”. 

“Oh okay. Thank you. I will just finish up this report then”.

“Sure darling take your time”. She said and walked out. You did notice the new ring on her finger. Did they renew their vows? You shook your head and focused on the task at hand.

You were about to walk out of your office when your phone rang. You walked back to your desk and decided to attend it. 

“Hello”.

“Hi Y/n. Mr.Gojo would like to see you in his office”. It was Miwa on the other line and your heart skipped a beat at the request.

“Is it urgent?”. You asked, hoping to get out of it.

“Yes”.

“Okay. I’ll be there”.

You made your way to the other end of the floor and debated whether you should ask Gojo for help. 

“May I come in?”. You asked knocking on the door. 

“Yes”.

You entered the cold room and saw Gojo standing behind his desk,littered with papers, with papers in his hand. His hair was slightly dishevelled, white sleeves rolled up to his elbow, tie hanging loosely around his neck. It looked like he was in the middle of something important and this only piqued your curiosity.

“You wanted to see me?”.

“Yes. I need your help with an upcoming trip to Bali”. 

“Utahime didn’t tell me anything about it”.

“That’s because it’s a surprise for her. I want to take her to Bali for important work and I need help from you to arrange everything for her. Can you do that?”. He wasn’t looking at you, instead shifting his gaze from one paper to another. It hurt but this is what you asked from him. 

“I’ll try. What do I need to do?”.

“For starters, you need to get your travelling documents in order because I need you to travel with us”.

“I can’t do that”. You replied immediately. 

Gojo finally looked up at you. He studied your face for a few seconds before turning his attention back to his papers. “Don’t worry all costs will be covered and you'll get overtime pay”.

It was offensive the way he was treating you. But that’s how he would have treated any other employee and this is what you asked for. Maybe you should have been careful of what you ask for, as you might just get it. A part of you wanted him to sympathise with you but you knew he was under no obligation to do so.

“It’s not that..I can’t. I just can’t”.

“You are mandated by your contract to fulfil your work obligations and this is your work obligation so I don’t see a reason why you can’t come with us.But given the circumstances I am still leaving it up to you. Think about it”.

You mentally cursed yourself. You had used up all your leaves for this quarter and can’t back out of it now. But if he was so insistent on bringing you along then maybe just  maybe you can call a favour too.

“Is there anything else?”.

“I have emailed you the list of other things so you can take a look at it. Oh and”. He looked up at you with his mouth agape. “Don’t tell Iori about this. It’s a surprise”. He ended the request with a smile and you found yourself reciprocating it. But yours was laced with jealousy and hatred.

“Okay”

“You can go now and let me know your decision by tomorrow morning”. Gojo said. Keeping down the stack of papers and pulling out another file. You stood there searching for words, fidgeting with your hands and Gojo noticed it. “Is there anything you want?”. He asked, corking and eyebrow. 

“I…I need…I need..”.

“What do you need y/n? I don’t have all day”.

“I need Detective Geto’s number”. You blurted out. 

Gojo stared at your concerned face for a second and then let out a chuckle. “And why do you need that?’.

“I think..I think Hiro has gone missing and I need his help”. 

Gojo bit his bottom lip and drew in a deep breath. He knew he had to be careful with his words. “Hasn’t he taken an extended leave for personal reasons?”. Gojo asked, leaning back in his chair. He studied your face and it angered him how much you cared about that scum.

“I know. But I have tried reaching out to him but his phone has been off for days and I even contacted his friends to know his whereabouts but they haven’t seen him at all! I have a feeling that something has happened to him. Something bad!”. 

“You really care about him don’t you?”. Gojo asked, eyes focused on your teary ones. 

“Yes Mr.Gojo. He is my…only… friend. I wouldn’t be asking this if I wasn’t sure. I’ll do anything …I’ll come on the trip and I’ll do a perfect job but I really need Geto’s help!”. You sounded desperate. You knew you sounded desperate but you didn’t care. Not when your gut was telling you your best friend was in danger. Gojo’s skin was burning with anger but his heart skipped a beat looking at how much you cared about people close to you. He let out a sigh and nodded his head. 

“Fine then. I’ll ask him to contact you”.

“Thank you. Thank you so much!”. You meant it. You were relieved and almost on the verge of tears. As you were about  to leave, Gojo spoke up. “Don’t forget. You owe me one now”. Your mouth hung open. Was he really going to use your helplessness as a way of getting something? Of course he was. He is Gojo Satoru. 

“I know”. You replied with a nod. 

Before you could walk out of the office the door opened to reveal the man of interest standing. Looking from you to Gojo and flashing a smile to his best friend. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting something. Hello Y/n”. Geto said as he made his way to where you were standing. 

“Hello Geto”. You replied and looked at Gojo. Geto took his place on the chair and stared at his friend who was still staring at you. “What’s happening?”. He asked. Before you could reply, Gojo straightened in his chair and cleared his throat. 

“Y/n wants to talk to you”. He said, giving a pressed smile.

Geto frowned and pointed his index finger at himself and looked at you. “Me?”. 

You pressed your lips together and nodded. “Go ahead y/n. Tell him what you told me”. Gojo said, giving you a green signal. You walked over to where Geto was sitting and stood in front of him with your arms clasped in front of you.

“It's about my friend. His name is Kato Hiro and I think he has gone missing”. 

Geto opened his mouth to say something but closed it and turned his head towards his friend on the other side of the table. Gojo nodded his head but kept his eyes focused on the report in front of him. Geto maintained his pleasant expression, trying hard to not smile. 

“Why do you think that he is missing?”. Geto asked, smiling at you.

“I ..he has taken an extended leave so that’s why he hasn’t shown up for work. But we are neighbours, you see, so I know him really well!  He hasn’t replied to any of my messages or calls and two days ago my messages stopped delivering. I even called his friends back home but they haven’t heard from him or seen him”. 

“When was the last time you saw him?”.

“About ten days ago. He texted me that he was leaving from work early and..wait let me show you”. You reached into your bag and pulled out your phone. “This was the last text he sent me”. You opened the chat and handed your phone to Geto. Gojo too craned his neck to get a peek at your chats with the scum. He scoffed when he saw that you had saved his contact with a heart next to his name. He pouted a little wondering how you saved his contact, if you had saved it at all. 

Hiro : Hey luv leaving work early got some work to do. See you tomorrow <3.

“And you didn’t hear from him after this message?”. 

“No. Things got a little busy and I had to take a leave from work. But it seems that he took a leave the next day. Which is strange”.

“Why is it strange?”.

“Because he didn’t tell me. If he was going somewhere he would have visited me before leaving or dropped a text”.

“Why would he tell you about his plans? What was your relation with him?”. Geto smiled to himself. He was only asking this question to poke his best friend. 

“I..we were..we are really good friends..he would never just disappear on me”. 

“Are you sure about that?”.

“Yes. Hiro would never not tell me about where he was going”.

“Well apparently he did. But anyway I will ask around and let you know if I find something and in the meanwhile if you hear from him then you let me know okay?”. Geto offered you a smile along with his card and you politely took it.  

“Thank You”. You offered both men a courteous smile and walked out of the room. 

“What was that about?”. Geto asked, smirking at Gojo.

“She is being paranoid. That scum deserved what he got”.

“Aww. Are you jealous ,Satoru?”.

“Are you here to mock me or help me?”. 

“Both?”. Geto joked, earning an eye roll from Gojo. “What has he revealed so far? Did you ask him about the child”.Geto asked, lighting a cigarette. 

“He passed out soon after but my men are working on it and no I didn’t ask him about…the child”.

“Why not?”.

“Didn’t want to”.

“Or you couldn’t??”.

“I said, I don’t want to”. Gojo was dead serious and Geto dropped the topic…for now.

Gojo opened his second laptop and walked over to sit next to Geto on the visitor’s couch in his office, he opened the tracking window and entered his password. “Do you think she is going to meet him?”. Gojo asked.

“Based on her chats it seems so”. 

The two men focused on the red dot moving across the map of the city. Thanks to Geto, Gojo had installed a tracker in Utahime’s ring. As if that wasn’t enough he had even installed it in her other jewelleries. But above all he had spyware installed in her brooch and could now hear and record every conversation as long as she had her phone. 

The dot stopped moving near a farmhouse and Geto zoomed in to see the address. Unsurprisingly it was not in friendly territory.

“Turn on the speaker!”. Gojo spoke, not removing his eyes from the screen. Geto nodded and with a click of a few buttons they were able to hear every sound in the room. Gojo knew Utahime had the habit of wearing her favourite red bow brooch whenever she was happy and Gojo made sure she was happy today, and this worked well in his favour as they could now see and hear everything.

“He is waiting for you”. Some man in black uniform spoke and was now leading Utahime through a corridor. The man opened the door and Utahime walked inside. 

“Hello beautiful”. Another man spoke and seemed to offer her a hug. Geto and Gojo looked at each other and smiled. The man came into view of the camera and they knew exactly who he was. 

Any other man on this planet would have been furious to have found his fiance sneaking and meeting another man but not Gojo. Gojo was happy. Gojo got all the proof he needed. Gojo was going to ruin everyone. 

“You know the rules, Iori. Keep your phone out. We can’t talk with your phone in your hand”.

“Do you not trust me?”. Utahime asked. 

“Oh I trust you alright. It’s your fiance I don’t trust”.

Utahime let out a groan and handed her bag and phone to the man who led her here. 

“I must tell you, you were right. The plan worked perfectly”. Utahime said, sitting down. The man sat opposite to her on a plush black leather couch.

“I told you it would. But this does not mean that Gojo is all yours now. You still have a long way to go”.

“I know. But I am sure you will handle the rest. Right?”.

“For you I would”.

“But tell me..what do you gain from helping me get Gojo?”. Utahime asked. Gojoe and Geto sat silently waiting for the answer. 

“You are a smart woman, Utahime Iori. How about this, You get Gojo Satoru and all the four industries that are currently under your name be transferred to an offshore company? Small price to pay for love right?”.

“You want me to transfer the rights of my shipping company to you?”.

“Yes”. 

“I can’t believe she can’t see his plan”. Gojo spoke under his breath. Geto chuckled. “That’s why he is using her. But I must say Satoru, you are quite a commodity”. Gojo glared at his friend and Geto only chuckled. 

“-and of course I get Y/n L/n”. The man spoke. Gojo and Geto froze. Suddenly it seemed like the man was talking directly to them. Geto could feel the tension in Gojo’s body and it scared him. “Hey, he won’t hurt her”. Geto said reassuringly.

“I won’t let him”. Gojo spoke, eyes still focused on the scene in front of him.

“Why do you want her?”. Utahime asked.

“Let’s just say, she interests me and of course she is pretty and has a sharp tongue. Just my type right?”. N laughed.

“Wait, have you met her?”. Utahime leaned forward in her seat and so did Geto and Gojo. Gojo was getting worried now. There is no way in hell he could have met you, he wouldn’t go that far to involve you. Right? Geto seemed to have read his mind.

“Oi Satoru. Don’t worry. My men will keep an eye on her. He won’t dare go near her”.

“He better not-”. Before Gojo could finish his warning the man spoke. “I have. I might meet her again”. He winked at Utahime. Gojo’s eyes widened, his jaw clenched and he was one step away from burning the whole place down. “I want round the clock surveillance on y/n. He cannot go near her. He cannot talk to her”. Geto nodded and patted his shoulder.

Utahime scoffed and turned her head away to look at the painting on the wall. “I don’t get what men see in her”.

“Don’t worry love, you are the only woman I care about”.

“I am engaged”. Utahime spoke, raising her left hand to show off the brand new ring.

“Wedding or it didn’t happen baby”. N said, laughing at her innocence. Utahime rolled her eyes and scoffed. It pinched her that the only man who was giving her all the attention she deserved was also interested in you. But as long as she got Gojo she didn’t care what happened to you.

-X-

You stood under the shower, eyes closed, feeling the water wash over all the events of the day. You were relieved that you got to talk to Geto but still a part of you was worried. You have been checking up on his apartment everyday for the past ten days, hoping that someday he opens the door. A voice in your head said that he was gone for good. But you didn’t want to accept it. You couldn’t imagine losing someone again. You were not sure if this time you’ll be able to bear it at all.

You looked around the kitchen, thinking what to make. You were tired and decided to head to the local ramen booth instead. Grabbing your jacket and purse you stepped out of your house and rang Hiro’s doorbell. You counted to twenty hoping that he would open the door but he didn’t. You sighed and walked out of the building with your head hung low and earphones in. The air was cold outside the apartment building and you shoved your hands in the pocket of your black wool jacket. Sleep on the floor by The Lumineers played in your ear and you looked around to see people smiling with their partners, friends, family…and you had none of those.

Being alone had it’s perks you thought, you can disappear and no one would or come looking for you, your mishaps won’t affect anyone other than you, and if you were to die no one would mourn you. But that was not going to happen to Hiro, you were not going to let it happen to Hiro. Even if he didn’t want to be found, you were at least going to make sure he was safe. As you walked to the booth you wondered if Geto was really working on your request. He had no reason to since you were nothing to him anymore. Asking Gojo for a favour took a bite out of your pride but it didn’t matter now. It was done. 

You greeted the head chef and made your way to the corner most seats.The booth was small with Chef standing on one side of the counter with kitchen entrance behind him and close to ten chairs kept in a semi circle on the other side of the wooden counter.Multiple water jugs,tissue boxes and stacks of paper cups were placed on the counter to be used by the customer.The atmosphere inside was warmer and happier. Like a purgatory in this cold harsh world. You raised two fingers at the chef and he understood that you wanted set number 2. You opened your phone to check if there was any reply from Geto but there was none. You had texted him your address and home number just in case he needed to see you or Hiro’s apartment. But now you were starting to doubt if he was even going to look into it. Why would he? He was Gojo’s best friend. He was going to be his best man at his wedding so why would he help a paranoid ex girlfriend? You chuckled at your stupidity for even asking him. 

“What are the odds of us meeting again?”. You heard a familiar voice and turned to your side to see N.

“If you are stalking me then I must say the odds are very high”. You replied keeping your phone in your pocket.

“Why do you look sad? Is everything okay?”. N asked, placing his order.

“I am fine. What are you doing here? I doubt this is your kind of place”. 

N chuckled. “Oh this is just my kind of place. The food is good and occasionally I bump into a beautiful woman”.

“And what do you do when you bump into her?”.

“I ask her why she looks sad?”. N winked. There was a split second silence before you laughed along with him. He was certainly an odd man but it felt good to laugh. 

“Hey, can I ask you something?”. N asked. The chef placed two bowls of ramen and both you and N offered him a curt smile.

“Sure”. You said, taking chopsticks out of the stand.

“Do you happen to know Kato Hiro? He lived in an apartment nearby”. N asked, slurping the ramen.

It felt like the world stopped revolving around its axis. “How..how do you know him?”. You asked. Your hands shook and sweat trickled down your frowned forehead. 

“He is an old friend of mine. I have been trying to reach him for quite some time but I can’t get through. So you do know him?”.

“Yes! He is a really close friend of mine. I’m sorry but I haven’t heard him mention you at all”.

N laughed and shook his head. “Yeah. That’s my fault. You see, I moved to Tokyo just last month. Hiro and I have been friends for ten years,if you count the last five years where I got so busy in my life that we drifted apart”.

“Oh. I haven’t heard from Hiro either and I don’t know where he is”. Your face dropped in disappointment. 

“I was supposed to meet him a week ago but he didn’t show up. I thought he must be angry with me so I tried calling him multiple times but I lost contact with him after that”.

‘Wait! He was supposed to meet you ten days ago?!”. You asked, almost jumping in your seat

“Yes. Why?”. N replied, nonchalantly.

“That’s the day I think he went missing! This can help us!”. You could see a sliver of hope now. 

“You think he is missing?”. N asked. His brows furrowed and lips pressed together.

“Yes! I mean think about it, he told me he had some work that day and I guess he was on his way to meet you. But he didn’t show up and suddenly he took a leave and now he is out of reach. Doesn’t this seem fishy to you?!”. You asked. N could see that you were clearly very concerned for your friend. Your long forgotten, half empty ramen bowl turned cold.

“I see where you are getting at. But what do we do now? I mean how do we prove that he is missing?”. N asked.

“I have spoken to a detective. Would you be okay with talking to him? He can really help us!”.

N nodded his head and pretended to think about it. “Yeah. I mean, I would do anything to make sure Hiro is safe”. 

You let out a sigh of relief and wiped your face with your hands. “Thank you so much! I have the detective's number. Would you be okay with talking to him? We can go over to my place and you can explain everything to him”. You spoke in a rushed tone. You knew the dangers of taking a stranger to your apartment but somewhere it didn’t compare to danger Hiro might be in.

“Yeah sure. Let me pay for the meal”.

“No, wait”.You reached into your purse and took out your wallet to pay for the meal. “This is the least I could do for you”. You said as you kept enough cash on the counter for the two meals. N looked at you with his mouth hung open. This was the first time anyone, especially a woman, had paid for him. It messed with his head and for a moment he didn’t see you as just a pawn in his game. But he shook it off. This wasn’t the time to get soft.

“Let’s go”. You spoke standing up and grabbing your jacket. He was still frozen and looked at you in disbelief. “You…you paid for me?”.

You looked at him with a tilted head. “I told you it’s the least I could do. I didn’t mean to offend you. I have just been so worried about Hiro and I really believe that you can help me find him. I know it might sound crazy but I have a feeling that he is not in a good place”.

N looked at you and smiled. He kept his wallet back in his pocket and nodded. “You really care about him, don’t you?”.

“As sad as it might sound, he is my only friend..oh and my name is not Rika, it’s y/n”. 

N shouldn’t have felt guilty as he followed you out of the ramen booth but he did. He had never felt guilty for any of his actions then why now? He took a deep breath, convincing himself that he felt sorry for you..not guilty.

You were walking back to your apartment with N when you heard someone call out your name. “Y/n!”. Both you and N turned around to see detective Geto walking towards you. While you smiled at him, Geto was not pleased to see you in such company. “Geto! I was just about to call you”. You looked at your friend,” N this is detective Geto, the one I told you about”. 

Geto squinted his eyes and looked at your friend. “You…told this man about me?”.

“Yes. He is a friend of Hiro’s. He can help us!”.

“Is he now?”. Geto asked, not moving his eyes from N. Geto’s tall form towered over N’s as he moved in between the two of you but he N didn’t seem to care. “Yes I am. We were just about to head over to y/n’s place and call you”. N smiled.

Geto gritted his teeth and looked over at you. You with your doe eyed innocence were just about to  invite the devil into your house. He couldnt believe you could be this stupid.  “We don’t need to go to her place. We can talk right here”. Geto said, offering you a sweet smile.

“In the middle of the road?”. You asked, looking around.

“I meant the park y/n”.

“It’s too cold for the park…detective”. N said.

“I’m in a rush. So why don’t we talk right here. How do you know him y/n?”. Geto turned towards you. 

“I..we met a few days ago at a local pub and we bumped into each other at the ramen booth today”.

“And you told him about Hiro?”. Geto asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“No..I mean yeah I did. But he asked me first. He is Hiro’s friend and he is looking for him too. Right?”. You asked, looking at N. “Yeah”. N replied, lighting a cigarette.

“And how do you know Hiro?”. Geto asked condescendingly. N scoffed, “We are old friends but you see we lost contact with each other”.

“If you lost contact then why are you looking for him?”.

“I moved to tokyo last month and wanted to reconnect with him and-”.

“They were supposed to meet the day Hiro disappeared”. You interrupted and both men looked at you. “Is that so?”. Geto asked and N smiled. “Yes”.

“Y/n, I’ll drop you home and you..I will have to call you in to take an official statement”. Geto grabbed your wrist and tugged it. 

“I can drop her home detective”. N said, crushing the cigarette butt between the asphalt and his leather shoes. “Do as you’re told. This is not your place”. Geto warned in a hushed tone and pulled you towards him. “I’ll be fine N. Thank you so much for your help”. You said and smiled at him.

“I’ll see you around y/n. Goodnight detective”. N said and walked away. Geto watched him walking away while still holding your wrist. “Ge..Geto?”. You spoke, trying to break him away from the trance-like state. “Hmm?”. He hummed, still looking at the disappearing figure. “You..you didn’t ask his name”. You spoke hesitantly, still trying to figure out what he was thinking. “Oh I know his name”. 

Geto slammed the door of his car. He groaned out in frustration and hit the steering wheel. This was bad. Really bad. He just prevented something catastrophic from happening but what if he had been a little late? Just by a couple of minutes? He didn’t want to imagine that. But the situation was no better. Gojo was not going to like this but he needed to know. 

“Hello?”. Gojo answered on the third ring.

“I saw y/n with him”. Geto spoke huffing in frustration.

“With whom?”. Gojo asked. Geto didn’t know how to explain what just happened. “Suguru?”.

“...with Naoya Zenin”.

-X-

“...with Naoya Zenin”. Suguru spoke on the other end of the line. Gojo froze in his step. His heart was beating out of his chest and his skin crawled in fear.Everything that Hiro had told him seemed to be making sense now. He looked up to see his fiance walking in with a smile on her face and shopping bags in her hand. “Ok. I got to go now”. Gojo said and cut the call.

“You had fun?”. Gojo asked, walking over to Utahime with a sugary sweet smile and enveloping her in a hug.

“Yes. We talked so much and even went shopping. I bought some new outfits for the trip and a surprise for you so I hope you’re excited!”. Utahime replied, wrapping her arms around his torso.

“Surprise for me?”.

“Yes!”.

“Darling you can’t surprise me”. Gojo said, pulling himself out of the embrace and walking towards the kitchen. Utahime gleefully followed him.

“Oh I can”. 

“Well I have a surprise for you too”. Gojo smiled as he walked behind the counter and started assembling the ingredients.

“What is it?!”. Utahime asked with a smile on her face.

“I’m making us some brownies. So I hope you are hungry for dessert”. Gojo held up the cocoa powder box and winked at her.

“Oh Satoru it’s so sweet of you but I don’t think I can”.

“Not even if I make it?”. Gojo asked, leaning against the counter and giving Utahime a pout “Not even if I make it with love?”.. She laughed and pulled his cheeks. “Fine! But only cause you’re making it! Let me help you”.

“Oh no no no I am sure you had a tiring day. So why don’t you go and freshen up and I’ll bring the brownies to …. The bedroom?”.

Utahime bit her bottom lip and nodded her head. “Alright then”.

As soon as Utahime was out of sight Gojo got busy. You see, brownies were one of Gojo’s favourite desserts. They were easy to make, perfect for late night snacks, left little room for error, and above all they hid the taste of pills really well. The rich flavour of cocoa dominated the flavour of Gojo’s favourite pills..

Utahime opened her eyes but didn’t feel a single muscle in her body. “Sa…toru”. Gojo walked out of the ensuite and immediately went to her side. “Hey, you’re up. How are you feeling?”. He asked, leaning down towards her and moving strands of hair out of her face.

“What happened? I don’t..remember”.

“You don’t..remember anything?”. Gojo asked, straightening up. Utahime felt guilt take over her. “No..what happened? I feel weak”. She tried to get up but her body just felt too heavy for her.

“You passed out in the bathroom Iori. I called the doctor to check up on you and he told me that it's because of exhaustion and stress. I was really worried". Gojo said, helping Utahime to sit up in bed.

“I don’t know how it happened. I don’t remember anything. I remember going into the bathroom and …coming out and…that’s all”. She frowned at him.

“It’s alright darling. I am right here. Do you want me to call your family?”. Gojo asked, walking over to the wooden cabinet in front of the bed and picking up his phone.

“No! It’s nothing serious so let’s not bother them. I’ll be fine. I..I guess I overdid it yesterday”.

“Hey hey, it’s okay. How about this? Let’s go to my country house? We can relax there. We need a change of scenery, don’t you think?”. Gojo leaned against the wooden cabinet and smiled at her. Utahime smiled in return and nodded her head. “But what about your meeting in Bali?”. Utahime asked, frowning.

“I’ll send someone else. I need to be here with you”.

“No Satoru. You must go. It’s a really important project. I can’t have you miss it because of me, what will your father think of me?”.

“Who cares what my dad thinks?”.

“Satoru!”.

“Iori, nothing is more important than you. I’ll send someone else and we leave for our little vacation tonight”. Gojo said in a serious tone and turned to walk out of the door but Utahime stopped him. “Satoru!”. Gojo smiled to himself. Bingo. “Yes darling?”. Gojo aske turning back to look at Utahime. “How about you go to Bali and close the deal and meet me at the country house to celebrate?”.

“Iori..I can’t leave you alone-”.

“Satoru I’ll be fine! Go! I’ll wait for you”. Utahime chuckled. It swelled her heart to see how much Gojo cared about her. Gojo walked over to the bed and knelt on the floor beside her. He gently held her hand with both of his’. “Are you sure?”. He asked.

“Yes I am sure”.

“Do you promise to take care of yourself while I am away?”. Gojo asked, holding up his pinky finger. Utahime giggled and intertwined her pinky finger with his’. “I promise”.

“Fine then. You wish for my command. But..There will be a doctor present with you all the time and you are to obey him at all times. Okay?”.

“Okay. I will. Now go!”. Utahime spoke, smiling at him.

Gojo walked out of the bedroom and saw the doctor and nurses he had appointed standing in a line. He smiled at them, “Please make sure you do your work well. Okay?”.

“Yes sir”. The doctor replied, smiling at Gojo.

-X-

You got out of the elevator to see Miwa standing right in front of you. “Good Morning!”. You smiled at her but she looked nervous. “What happened?”. You asked, stepping out and turning towards her. “He wants to see you in his office”.

“Who?”.

“Mr.Gojo. He wants to see you in his office now. He asked me to wait here and ask you to see him immediately. He looks angry”.

You were confused but you followed her. You wondered what you did now? Did Geto tell him about last night? But he had no reason to be angry because of that. “All the best y/n. Miwa said as she came to stop in front of the door. You took a deep breath, “Thanks”.

“You asked to see me?”. You spoke, walking confidently towards where Gojo was sitting. “Yes”.

“What is it about?”. You asked, stopping to stand in front of his desk. “We need to leave tonight so take half a day off and meet me at the airport at 5:30 PM. My driver will pick you up from your place at 4:00 PM. Carry only essentials and pack light”. Gojo spoke without stopping to gauge your response. You opened your mouth to say something and then closed it again. “Tonight?”

“Yes y/n. Tonight?”.

You were confused beyond measure. “But I..I haven’t completed the work for the new project that you asked me to”.

“It’s not needed. Things have happened and we need to start moving if we are to get that contract. The plan stays the same. Don’t tell Utahime. She has taken the day off so it shouldn’t be an issue for you”.

“I..it’s too soon”.

“What does that mean?”. Gojo asked, shaking his head.

“I mean..I don’t know if I am supposed to tell you this but I ran into Geto last night and we might have a lead on Hiro. So I am not sure if this is the right time to leave”. You swallowed hard not knowing how Gojo would respond.

“Do I need to remind you that the only reason you even have a lead on Hiro is because I asked Geto for a favour? Besides, going away for two days won’t hurt the case and Geto can always contact you over the phone and if anything happens I assure you I will be happy to fly you back”.

Gojo was right and you hated to admit it. “Alright then. I will wrap up quickly and get going. Do I need to call the doctor? To make sure Utahime is good to travel? Or arrange for a doctor to travel with us?”. 

Gojo kept the file aside and looked up at you with squinted eyes. “Why does Utahime need a doctor’s permission?”. Wondering if Utahie had told you about her condition.

“Because she is…pregnant?”. You were confused, did he forget that his fiance was pregnant?.

“Who is pregnant?”. Gojo gasped loudly.

“Uta..Utahime?”. You answered. 

“Right….Utahime is pregnant…with my child?”. Gojo asked, dragging each word as if to confirm he was saying the right thing.

“Yes..she is..?”. You replied, wondering if he had overworked himself into insanity.

“The tests were for…her?”. He asked and you didn’t know what to say. 

“Yes..?”.

“Utahime told you that she is pregnant with my child?”.

“I..yeah. She told me you knew. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to overstep or anything…I just..She told me you knew!”.

“Oh yeah right…umm..hmm…right right. So why did you take the week off?”.

“Because..I…I just…felt..I didn’t feel..I was not feeling well”. You were fumbling with your words. How could you tell him that you took a week off because you couldn’t bear to see him with her. Gojo chuckled and soon his chuckled turned to laughter.

“Are you okay? Do I need to call a doctor for you?”. You were concerned, Gojo seemed to be having a breakdown.Gojo just shook his head and laughed. You kept your bag and coat on the chair and went around the table to check up on him. ‘“Do you have a fever?”. You asked as you pressed your palm flat against his forehead.Both you and Gojo fell silent the moment your hand touched his skin.He didn’t have a fever and you soon realised what you had done and you withdrew your hand instantly. “You..seem fine…I think you should get some rest before the flight”. You shook your head and grabbed your bag and coat. “Have a good day Mr.Gojo”. You spoke and immediately rushed out of his office.

“Cute”. Gojo muttered under his breath. “I underestimated you Utahime…I won’t make that mistake again”.

Gojo : Y/n is not pregnant with his child.

Ghetto : Did Hiro tell you that?

Gojo : No.

Geto : Is it yours then?

Gojo : Fuck off. Utahime lied. We don’t need to hold back anymore.

Geto : We still need to keep him alive

Gojo : Do we?

Geto : Yes we do. You need to keep y/n away. 

Gojo : I’m leaving with her tonight.

Geto : Be good

Gojo : Yes dad.

-X-

Like he had said, there was a knock on your door at exactly 4.00 PM. You  opened to see a butler with two bodyguards standing at your door. “Hi”. You said, unsure about why they were at your door instead of waiting near your building.

“We are here to pick you up for the airport. Mr.Gojo has sent us”. 

“All of you?”. You asked, looking at the group.

“Yes ma’am”.

“Okay, I’ll be right there”. 

“Let me help you. The butler smiled and stepped inside to take the bag from your hand. You stepped out and locked your door. The bodyguards took their place behind you. You stopped in front of Hiro’s door and slid in the note through the gap between the door and the floor. “We should get going ma’am”, The guards warned. “Yeah. Let’s go”.

Gojo was getting impatient waiting inside the flight. This was risky and there was a good chance that you might not forgive him ever, but he had to do this for your safety.  He hadn’t slept since Geto told him about you and Naoya. He wondered what Naoya told you and how he could get it out of you. He had made sure that Utahime had reached his country house and had it wired with hidden cameras. You weren’t even going to Bali but you didn’t have  to know that. It’s better if you didn’t know the destination until you had reached there. 

You walked inside the flight with your purse and coat in hand. You had decided to dress comfortably in navy blue jumper and Navy blue pants. Your eyes immediately scanned the inside of the black jet and landed on the white haired man standing in the middle. “Hi”. You said, smiling at him. “Hi”. Gojo said as he let out a breath of relief. “Where is..Utahime?”. 

Gojo cleared his throat  and sat down in a plush leather seat. “She is on the way.  Why don’t you settle down..you can sit wherever you like”. 

You nodded and decided it would be best to sit diagonally opposite to him. 

Gojo looked at your bouncy leg and smirked, “Are you nervous?”. He asked, taking a sip of his drink. 

“yeah..I have never really travelled in an aeroplane before”. Gojo hummed and gestured to the stewardess  to attend to you. 

“Have it, you’ll feel  better. Sugar eases nervousness”. Gojo said, pointing at the plate of brownies the stewardess had placed on the table between you. “No thanks I’m good”. You replied and took the water bottle instead. “Have it y/n”. Gojo said again and you realised that this was not a request but an order. So you picked up the square piece and took a bite..

You woke up with a gasp and realised that you were lying down in someone’s lap. Your eyes flickered trying to adjust to the dim lighting of your surroundings.It took you a while to recollect where you were. You straightened up in the seat and saw a blanket had been placed over you. Your head was spinning and your vision was still blurry. “What..happened?”.

“Hey hey…you’re up”. A familiar voice greeted you and you blinked your eyes rapidly to focus on the man speaking to you. “Satoru..?”. You realised you were sitting next to him and his arms were wrapped around your shoulder. 

“Yes love?”. Gojo replied, helping you adjust in the seat.

You shrugged his hands off and rubbed your eyes. “What happened?” You looked around hoping to see Utahime but it was just you and him in the jet. “Where is Utahime?”. You asked, panicking.

“She is not here”. Gojo said in a soothing voice, his one hand was rubbing the back of your head while the other held a glass of water for you. “Drink this”.

You stared at the glass and then back at him. He had a gentle smile on his face. 

“Why?...Why… Why is she not here?”. Gojo sushed you and pulled you in his arms. His hands rubbed your back trying to calm you down but his actions only scared you. “It’s alright. It’s all good now”.

“Gojo what’s going on?”. You asked,gently pushing yourself away. “Where is Utahime?”

“Utahime is not coming”.

“Is she…is she going to meet us in Bali?”. You asked, gulping hard.Somewhere in your heart you knew the answer .Gojo smiled and shook his head. “No love”. Gojo said calmly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. That nickname, why was he using that nickname?

“Are we..are we going to Bali?”.

“No Love. We are going somewhere where it would be just you and me”. 

@hiqhkey @chemtrails-club @simplyrosesxr @foggyperfectiondragon @sofi786 @vesta-ro @kimvmarvel @mykyoon @shintin @attackonsimpp @pyschopotatomeme @lilith412426 @shuxjodie @sagejin @cloudsinthecosmos @hecateria @lightblueexorcist @watyousayin @creolequeen11210 @shartnart1 @the-crane-wives @musababy @loquia @ackerstain @allofffmypeaches @regalillegal

[spice-chan]

why do I feel like one of the reasons I'm attracted to yanderes is because the feeling of this person never wanting to leave me and would do anything for me is just 😭😻🤤

Yes exactly!! Its the desperation, the assurance mixed with insecurity but mostly love ❤️

[spice-chan]

WHY DOES THIS NOT HAVE MORE NOTES ??

Also im so happy for reader, growing up and finding happiness with the right person ❤️

begged and borrowed time - k. bakugou

teklarn’s cliche’s and tropes masterlist (trope: marriage promise)

katsuki bakugou x gn! reader

genre: angst 

summary: childhood crushes, neighbors, best friends… katsuki bakugou moved to a small town, finding the neighbors across the street have a child his age who is relentless in their promises. especially this silly little promise to marry him one day. 

warnings: cursing, unrequited love, UNEDITED

- - - 

katsuki is a child with chubby cheeks and stubby legs. he remembers the sun that day, beaming down in its last triumph before red and orange leaves would sweep the pavement, a new season coming to claim the place of summer. 

he remembered his mother’s hand dragging him along and the smell of barbecue haunting the air. 

the new house looked old to him now, but he would never forget the feeling of not belonging. not belonging, so new and fresh to the point where he could trick everyone into thinking he belonged all along. 

and, as he came to know as he grew, it wasn’t that hard to fit in when someone else stuck out like a sore thumb. 

because just across the street was another kid, roughly his age, if not the exact same age as him. and they were staring. with chubby cheeks and pouty lips. 

he remembered his mother dragging him along, and for once, he followed along, his steps sloppy up the new steps. 

but before he knew it, there they were. on his driveway, admiring his dad’s truck. 

he tugged his hand out of his mother’s. “get your hands off my daddy’s truck.” 

the child recoiled from the bright blue paint. 

“who are you?” katsuki demanded. 

his mother turned. “katsuki, must you be so rude? that’s no way to treat our neighbors.” 

the child simply smiled and shook their head. the action irritated him, but katsuki stayed silent. 

“my name is y/n. i live across the street with my mom and dad. we’re your neighbors.” your voice was chipper. light and fluffy. it reminded katsuki of clouds. it still did, how airy and delicate and careless you seemed about everything. he never knew how deeply you cared. how you brushed everything off but kept everything close. “what’s your name?” 

his mother reached a friendly hand over his shoulder. “we’re the bakugous. you may call me mitsuki. this is my son, katsuki. excuse his behaviour.” 

you shrugged. “that’s okay. it’s nice to meet you, katsuki. my parents told me to invite you guys for dinner if you’d like that.” you rocked back and forth on your heels expectantly. 

katsuki remembered huffing, cheeks puffing out as he crossed his arms and turned, repulsed. “in your dreams, you sucker.” 

“KATSUKI!” mitsuki swiped at her son, snatching his arm and pushing him towards you. “apologize.” she demanded. “now.” 

his lips stayed shut, his eyes on the concrete he stood on. 

again, you shrugged. so nonchalant. so uncaring. “that’s okay, mrs. bakugou. i understand. he can talk to me when he’s ready.” 

katsuki only scoffed in response before spinning on a heel and tugging his mother’s skirt. “let’s go, mama.” 

mitsuki looked between you and her son. “y/n, tell your parents that we appreciate the offer, but not today. perhaps another time? we’re just settling in today. we’ve got much unpacking to do, you see.” 

“i understand! maybe on the weekend?” 

“how about never?” katsuki snorted. 

“that’s enough now, katsuki. hush.” mitsuki turned back to you. “it was quite nice meeting you, y/n. tell your family we also say hello. i’m sure we’ll see you again soon.” 

chipper, you nodded. “i’ll see you soon, katsuki!” 

- - - 

soon came sooner than expected. because there he was. a blonde, grouchy boy with rosy cheeks on pale skin. he’d come here around six in the evening on a sunny wednesday and was now sitting across from you at your dining table on the evening of the following saturday. 

and he was beautiful. 

you giggled, a childish, sweet sound emerging from you as you toyed with the potatoes on your plate. 

“don’t play with your food, y/n,” your mother whispered, nudging your elbow. 

“i’m not, mama.” 

your mother only raised her eyebrows in question. you smiled innocently and stabbed through the softened skin of your potatoes, stuffing two in your mouth, cheeks full. 

katsuki only continued to stare at you with distaste, sticking his tongue out. 

“that isn’t nice,” you said, mouth full. 

“y/n, talking with your mouth full isn’t nice.” your older brother, eijirou, stuck his tongue back out at you. 

he sat beside katsuki, just as much a bother to him as were you. however, a part of katsuki seemed to tolerate eiji more. 

“you’re not nice,” you retorted. 

eiji was only a year older than you and was just a few months younger than katsuki. 

he tossed a tomato your way. it splattered before you, a mushy pile of red on your plate. 

“hey!” you shot up from your seat. katsuki chuckled to himself, looking approvingly at eiji. 

“eijirou!” your mother scowled. she turned to mitsuki. “i apologize for his outburst. for both of their behaviors. they’re better behaved than this. i know they are.” 

mitsuki only smiled in return. “trust me, my little one is a bit of a nightmare himself.” 

katsuki’s smile faded. “mama!?” 

“if you don’t want me to say anything,” mitsuki bit out at her son, “then don’t act like that.” 

katsuki grit his teeth, seething as his eyes bore down on you. that glare was something you would grow used to in time. the sourness in that gaze was something you would soon grow fond of. while you’d be used to it in no time, while you would soon learn to reply with a scoff or some smart comment, his gaze on you will always leave butterflies in your stomach. 

“sorry, mama,” you shrugged. 

“just be better next time, okay sweetpea? and you too, eiji.” 

you grinned, nodding. your brother did the same, his mouth half-full with rice. 

that was a nice night. 

- - - 

two years later, when you were eight and katsuki was nine, you tried proposing to him during recess on the playground. kids screamed around and pretended katsuki had cooties from you for the rest of the year. 

what hurt your little heart the most, though, was that katsuki had kicked gravel into your face and rejected you. 

- - - 

ten years later, at the sad age of eighteen, when everything seemed to be falling apart. when your teen world seemed to be crumbling at every little mistake you made, all your hope was pinned on one boy. 

the same boy who moved here on that sunny wednesday. 

“will you go to prom with me?” 

katsuki looked at you. at your sad figure in the dark, standing at his door with flowers in your hands. 

“you got me…flowers?” 

“yes.” you shifted the pretty pink florals in your hands, offering the bouquet to him. “i thought you might…like them.” 

“i’ve never been a liar.” he snatched them from your hands. “they’re pretty.” 

“you look very…pretty today katsuki.” he did indeed. the boy was dressed in a suit and tie. the tie was red, complimenting the crimson of his eyes. he was just on the tip of turning nineteen. 

he switched his gaze to you. you, who had dressed your best for this moment. this moment that was perhaps more thrilling than the idea of prom itself. you were already late, missing out on the loud music and your even louder friends. and eiji, who was there with his own date. eiji, who you wanted to watch be a stuttering idiot around the girl he loved. 

you were missing so much already. but it was all worth it. it was all worth it because katsuki was going to say yes. he was finally going to say yes, because you knew exactly what to say. 

you had pried every little bit of information out of your brother in hopes that some little piece of katsuki would finally be known to you. that somehow, through some of that knowledge, katsuki would realize how much you cared, how much you wanted. he’d discover that you guys liked the same music, the same books, the same subjects and had the same dreams. 

“shut up, dumbass,” he snorted, turning. your heart sunk into your stomach, but some poor, stupid part of you was still hanging on to a little bit of hope. and that hope was answered as katsuki paused, his hand on the doorknob. 

he stared at the flowers, a mix of pink and orange. 

you bit your lip, staring intensely at him, at his eyes trained on the flowers. 

perhaps he’d reconsider. you’ve put in all this effort after all these years. he had to at least give you a shot, right? 

“thanks for these, y/n, but―” he looked at you before tossing the bouqet back into your hands, “―i have nowhere to keep these.” 

you caught them, your arms clumsy. some of the brittle petals fluttered to the pavement. “o-oh. i’ll take these back home then…but would you consider? i mean, consider going to the—”

“y/n, no. i’ve had enough. i don’t like you back. i know you’ve been pining over this imaginary friendship, this fake relationship, since we met. but i don’t like you back.” 

- - -

when you were eleven and katsuki was twelve, there was a junior production everyone in grades five to seven was required to audition for. 

surprisingly, katsuki got the role of the prince. you, however, had gotten the role of a servant who worked for the prince. 

eiji had gotten the role of the knight. the prince’s best friend. together they worked to save the princess in every scene and you…you were in five total scenes, only one of which you shared with katsuki. 

you handed him a piece of fake bread in that scene. perhaps it was the only vital role you’d played. 

to give things to him. 

to give things to a person who would never reciprocate. 

but that wasn’t the point. 

you just liked to give. 

- - - 

and up until this point, this point where he said no, this point where he gave everything back, you had no idea that it was possible for him to say no. 

he would call you stupid, call you dumb and boring but he would take whatever it was you gave to him. whether it was a story you wanted to tell him, whether you wanted to share your food, he would just listen and take it. 

but for the first time in your life, he said no. 

“oh, i understand.” 

you paced away, swiping fat tears from your cheeks as you retreated to your car, driving off to your shared school. 

there, the gym was already stuffed with sweaty bodies and loud teenagers. 

a horrible combination, especially for your mood. 

across the gym, you spotted your friends jumping up and down in perfect timing with the beat. 

you weren’t sure why you had come. you could have been back at home. 

but you would have been back at home doing nothing. sobbing, mostly. but nothing at all. you would be dwelling on something in silence.

at least here, maybe your thoughts could wander a little bit. 

you carried yourself to the hallway. there, you stayed. there, you wondered. 

while you knew, all those years when you would jokingly propose to him, when you would take out a ringpop and get down on one knee…while you knew it was all fake, a part of you would hope that one day, it wouldn’t be, and he would say it. 

perhaps there was no difference between love and obsession, but whatever he made you feel, it made you feel happy inside. 

the hall was dimly lit by pink, flashing lights from the gym. students you knew from classes passed by, paying no heed to your figure slumped against the wall. as if you had had too much to drink, or danced so hard your feet were aching more than your heart. 

you didn’t expect anyone to stop by. you preferred it that way. 

but someone did. 

“y/n? i’ve been looking for you.” 

- - - 

katsuki bakugou had never been fond of drinking. he thought it was stupid. thought drugs and alcohol and all the things people did to forget was stupid and that all the people who did that shit were idiots with no future. 

those kinds of people were made of excuses. 

he thought that way, at least, up until now. 

up until now, where he was in a suit, at a table. his plate was shiny and clean, untouched by the sweet wedding cake across the room. 

lights danced across the ceiling, loud music blasting in time with the flashes. 

this time, it was just like prom, but people were fancier. people were more expensive, but just as irresponsible. 

and there was eijirou, in a suit dancing with the same girl―now woman―he had taken to prom that night. except this time, forever for them wasn’t a joke. 

forever for them was truly forever. 

or what it was meant to be, anyways. 

his bride was beautiful. kind, dark brown eyes that complimented her dark skin just fine. 

she was gorgeous. but not the most beautiful in the room. 

but tonight, that’s what everyone would tell her. 

it was a good thing she knew katsuki would never say that. but she assumed it was just because he was an introverted, grouchy twenty-something man invited to his best friend’s wedding. 

the more katsuki thought about the past, the more he began to see how fucked up his thought process was. and how bad it felt to want something you knew you wouldn’t ever be able to have. 

he stared, not that the girl in white, not at her husband who was grinning as she turned around. 

but at you. at all the people lined up behind her. everyone, regardless of gender, wanted to know something. they wanted to know something bad. 

eijirou’s bride smiled wide before shutting her eyes tight and tossing that gorgeous bouquet of orange and pink flowers into the air behind her. 

the crowd of people swarmed, men in suits and women in fancy dresses of every color but white. 

but he ignored their laughter, all their faces. ignored everything because all he saw was you and the bouquet that fell into your hands. like, after all these years, it was your turn. your time. your time to be happy. 

and katsuki was happy for you. happy for you, but angry because you were smiling. smiling at turning towards someone else. 

someone beautiful, someone kind, someone who had chased you before you ever thought of them. 

he had never earned your love. 

yet years ago, you’d given him every last bit of it. 

so here he sat like a fool, wishing that he had cherished those small moments of your love, wishing he’d taken the opportunities to start forever with you. 

but for the first time in katsuki’s life, he felt like he was losing. 

you smiled, eyes landing on someone who had promised to marry you before he ever got the chance to even ask.