#chip data x reader

[luvrxbunny]

little spider

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

Prompt: Innocence

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader knows nothing about sex or feelings of arousal, clothed clit-rubbing? cum in pants, small feelings of embarrassment (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 3.3k

A/N: sorry im late but im kinda proud of this one so i hope it was worth the wait! <3

Miguel didn’t think he’d end up in this position, nowhere in his wildest, most perverted fantasies did he think that this would actually be the outcome of him recruiting you but… here we are. 

You were assigned by the higher-ups to learn from him, they thought you had potential, and honestly? Miguel hated you when he met you, he felt like they were punishing him for something, that assigning him this raw recruit was just a flaunt of power. You didn't even have a suit he had to make you one, a trial suit first, to make sure all your vitals were good, to track your movements and decide what suit material would be best- or if you would have a digital one like him. 

During the weeks of his monitoring of your vitals, he began to grow a bit fond of you. You were an adorable recruit and eager to please, you were thoughtful and always gave your all, something he really appreciates. One other thing he noticed about you… your dopamine levels were elevated around him, along with your estradiol and testosterone. He ignores it when he’s writing his reports, he tells himself that he doesn’t report it because the higher-ups don't need to know, not because he knows they’d make you transfer… He should’ve requested it the first time he noticed it but the thought of you, his sweet, innocent spider, all turned on just from being around him? It ignited something in him. 

He updated your suit, saying that the data he was receiving wasn't enough, he made you wear the suit as he replaced the chip and tried to hide the smile in his voice when your spine straightened under his touch. The new chip could give him real-time tracking of all your vitals, but he set his watch to alert him anytime certain hormones spiked… estradiol and testosterone. So he conducted a little experiment over the following weeks, he’d lean into you more when you speak, holding your eye contact, he even broke out the smirk he used to use on girls when he was younger, and it worked on you. 

His watch vibrated every time he was near you, if he walked up to you, it started being an alert to when you were near, it’d go off before you’ve even approached him, he’d walk into a room and it’d go off before he even saw you. It started to have an effect on him, he started to feel a spark in his stomach every time it went off, every time he’d meet your eyes and you’d have that expression he’d grown to know so well. That weak, almost pleading- yet confused look in your eyes and the sheer panic before tearing them away from his. He started having to grip whatever was in his hands as tightly as he could to control himself when you’re breathing would stutter after he complimented you on your work. 

He started getting hard reviewing your logs after spending the day with you, watching your heart rate stay elevated, spiking along with your hormones, he can see your breathing pattern, and how irregular it is compared to when you’re not with him. How high your body temperature was… the main areas of heat. On his more weak days, he’s gotten himself off to the diagram of you, with the burning red spot between your legs as the focus of his fantasies. 

Now you’re here, avoiding his gaze as his watch vibrates like crazy. “Miguel?” He looks at you again, trying to keep his gaze neutral, hopefully, to make this a bit easier on you… and him. “Yes?” 

His voice is smooth as cocoa butter and you can feel his gaze burning into you. He started this heat inside you, one you’d never encountered before. It starts when you see him in the morning and doesn’t stop until you struggle to sleep- or at least it used to. But recently it’s been non-stop, a constant distraction that you can’t pinpoint, it feels like it’s in your hips, stomach, chest, and thighs all at once. It feels like it’s in his breath when it fans over your face, it's in his eyes when they lock with yours, and somehow on his fingertips when they brush over any part of you. You’ve spent hours a night trying to figure out what you can do about it, you’ve thought about even asking Lyla but decided the risk of her telling Miguel was far too great.  

This past week it’s just been building on it’s self, almost unbearable with Miguel’s new immersive training. He takes you away to some deserted, closed-off place and trains you with no distractions, giving you nothing to focus on other than him and forcing him to give all his attention to you. Miguel’s attention, his gaze is what causes the most… pain. That’s what it’s become, a dull, numb, thrumming at the base of your stomach, like an itch you can’t scratch that just becomes a nuisance. You couldn’t handle it anymore and if you asked Lyla she’d just tell Miguel- so why not just ask him directly? 

So here you are, avoiding his gaze because you’ve spent the entire day with him, building enough fire inside you- you don’t need to add any more. “I think…” You take a breath and turn to him a bit before forcing the words out. “There’s something wrong with me.” He puts his clipboard down, his concern, and his thick, veiny hand that comes into view piles onto the heat over-taking your bloodstream. He takes his glasses off and sits back in his chair, reaching his leg out to pull a chair beside you closer to him. You dare a glance at him and try not to collapse at his gaze, at the way his hair moves over his face for a moment as he motions for you to sit in the provided chair.

You sigh and sit down, your legs pressed tightly together, your palms resting on your thighs and your eyes focused on the back of your hands. You stay silent, your mind racing, your body warming further at the feeling of his eyes on you. “What’s wrong, little spider?” You suppress a shiver at the nickname as goosebumps rise over your skin, it’s been a problem since he picked it. “I’m hot.” The words shoot out of your mouth before you can second-guess them again. Miguel chuckles a bit, sending embarrassment through your body, sits back in his chair, and crosses his arms, prompting you to go on. 

“I can’t fix it. There’s… someone.” Miguel pretends he doesn’t notice the way your eyes flicker to him. “For some reason, something about them just- “ You pause for a moment, truly baffled by the way you feel, trying to find some way to explain it. “They just do something to me and it won’t stop.” Your words start to sound frantic, a bit panicked. Miguel leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees to examine your expression. “It’s like there's a low- like a low vibration- or a frequency? Like the ones that are so low you can barely hear but you can sorta feel them? It’s like that but- but deep inside me.”

Your eyes close and eyebrows furrow as you describe the feeling to him. He tries to keep his breathing even as he hardens uncontrollably under the suit. You don’t even realize what you’re confessing to him. “Like it’s in my bones, Miguel.” You add emphasis, your hands digging into the material of your suit before raising your head to meet his eyes, hoping he understands the state you’re in. He’s almost dizzy at the way his blood rushes to his cock. He holds your gaze and tries to convey a baffled, thoughtful expression as he tries to calm himself. 

“That’s- That’s odd. Yeah, um.” He takes a few deep breaths before sitting back again, unable to stay in your space any longer. “Do- Can you tell me who’s causing it? Perhaps it’s a side effect of their powers?” Your spine straightens and you shake your head at him gently. You twist your fingers in the fabric of your suit and your feet play with each other on the lab floor. “H-have you heard of any powers like that?” You ask him, a hopeful look in your eyes. 

Clever girl.

“No, I haven't.” He sits back, spreads his legs, and runs his hands down his thighs and back with a sigh. He holds back a smirk when his watch vibrates and he hears you take a sharp breath. “I- I don’t know what to do anymore. It- I can barely sleep.” You sound distraught, broken, and tired. He’d be the messed up one if he didn't help you… Right?

“I mean… I can try running some tests?” He offers, he keeps his tone light, trying to keep his dark desires off your radar. You perk up at his offer, already up and out of your seat, standing in front of him with a smile. He keeps his eyes on you, trying to ignore the way your scent is assaulting his nose, giving away how badly you need him. “You think we could?”

He nods and stands up, walking over to his lab table and clearing a few things. His head is already running wild with fantasies, ideas of what he could do to you, what he could teach you, how good he could make you feel. “Yeah, of course. C’mere, pequeña araña” You were already walking to him but your pace stutters and his watch vibrates when the nickname slips out. He truly didn’t mean to, he had gotten a bit too deep in his fantasies, and when your voice broke through he didn’t get fully pulled out. He’s never called you that in Spanish, not to your face at least, it’s fallen from his lips a few times before though, when he’s alone with his hand wrapped around his cock. But your reaction dissuades any fear that had shot through him before and he can’t help the smirk that makes its way on his face. 

You’re standing silently beside him, wringing your hands together and he doesn’t think you even notice the way your thighs keep clenching together. “Get on the table.” His tone is teasing, a grin on his face as you jump and scramble onto the tabletop. You lay on your back and look over at Miguel, feeling that heat rage through you at the look on his face. It’s dark and- wanting. It’s confusing. 

He takes a deep breath and your fingers try to dig into the metal table top as he walks to you. “Okay. I’m going to examine your body a bit, press into some muscles, some pressure points to see if maybe it’s a physical trigger. Is that okay with you?” Your chest is already rising and falling more rapidly at the thought, the promise of Miguel’s hands on you. You nod at him stiffly, trying to stay normal and calm as he holds your eye contact, nodding along with you. A small smile graces his face before he walks around and presses his palm into your hairline, pushing your head down to rest on the table as he stands north of you. 

His hands press into your shoulders and your eyes shut tight. He can feel all your muscles tense and his watch vibrates, he sneaks a peak at his and sees the huge spike in almost all your vitals. His cock twitches in his suit at your obvious need but he brushes it aside, if he rushes into this he might scare you off and he doesn’t know what he’ll do if that happens. He may lose his mind. He moves his hands to your biceps, massaging them tightly as little whines slip into your breaths, only audible to his ears. 

He walks back to the side of the tables and your eyes stay shut. He massages the softness of your sides and his breathing kicks up a bit once he gets to your hips. He takes his time with them, admiring the way you fit into his hands and how you subconsciously tilt them toward him. His thighs jump as his cock begins to leak, dripping precum down them. He takes a deep, shaky breath and forces himself to move on. He forced himself to move on, he was trying to take it slow, hopefully, you’d realize where you need him and ask for it. But your thighs spread open when he massages the outside and his hands dive for the inner before he can think it through. 

You gasp, you sit up with your eyes wide and your hands gripping his wrists. You don’t do anything though, he expects you to pull his hands away but it feels more like you’re holding him there, stopping- or attempting to stop him from pulling away. So of course he doesn't. He stares into your eyes as you search his, trying to figure out if he realizes the way that made you feel, if your cover was blown, if he wants to stop but he looks expectant, like he’s waiting for something. So you loosen your grip. “That’s- I think that’s- ” You’re nodding at him lightly, hoping he understands what you’re trying to say because for some reason your brain has stopped working. 

“Yeah?” Your heart stutters at his tone and the tilt of his head as he says it. Your thighs tense around his hand for a moment before you try to calm down, un-tense them but they can’t help the way they tremble with anticipation. You’re nodding at him more frantically and his eyelids flutter. “Okay.” He takes one hand out from between your thighs and rests it on your lower back as his other hand keeps massaging, slowly moving up your inner thigh and the sensations grow more intense the higher he gets. 

Your eyes shut and your hands grip his wrists again, not pulling away, just holding him. Your eyes shut and your hips tilt into his hand, getting him so close to your pussy that he can feel the heat radiating off of her. You feel some sort of shame twinge in your belly, dampening the more intense feelings that Miguel was causing. What if this was wrong? What if you aren’t supposed to feel like this with him, without him knowing… Maybe you should stop. 

Miguel moves further up and all those thoughts scatter from your head immediately. His watch vibrates again and a noise shoots out of your mouth- one you’ve never heard before as your body folds over and your head rests on his shoulder. You shut your eyes tight and take a slow, deep breath. “Sorry. Sorry, I-” He cuts you off. “It’s okay. That’s why I’m here, right?” He’s nodding at you, comforting and reassuring as his hand leaves your back to cradle your head. “You’re okay. I wanna help you, cariño.” Another noise leaves you at the nickname and his hand grips into your hair for a moment before sliding down to your neck and pulls your head away from his shoulder. He pushes your head against his for a moment, letting out a soft groan before letting go and pushing his fingers against your plush lips. 

“How’s that, honey?” His hand settles back on your lower back as you whine and your hands move up his arm, gripping his biceps now and pulling yourself closer to him. “Miguel.” His eyes roll back at how you sound, desperate, breathless, and gone. Your hips are grinding into his fingers and they aren’t even on your clit yet. They’re pressing against your hole through your lips and your suit, he’s keeping his fingertips flat against you so he doesn’t slip inside. 

He’s trying to ignore the mess he’s making in his pants, watching your tense face change into a relieved one, your eyebrows pulling inward as your lips part beautifully, releasing a shaky moan as he reangles his fingers to your clit. His hands are shaking as he tries to calm himself down, one of your hands slides up his arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake before gripping onto his shoulder and pulling him down, closer to your face. His eyes are fixed on your expression, taking everything in, every twitch and quiver, the way your tongue darts out to lick your lips before a whimper punches out of you. 

You’re ruining him and you’re none the wiser. Your hand slides up to his neck and you push your forehead against his, like he did earlier. His eyes roll back before he forces them to you again, moving his fingers over you clit faster when your thighs begin to shake around his wrist. “I think-” Your voice comes out as a whimper and he groans into you. Your fingers grip into his hair and his cock cries against him. “Something… Miguel.” 

The way you say his name fucks with him. It’s prettier than he ever could’ve imagined, he has to lean forward and press his throbbing cock against the edge of the table for relief. You’ve got him feeling like he could die, like he could implode if he doesn’t have you, if after this you realize what you need but get it somewhere else? It’ll be over for him. Your hand readjusts its grip in his hair, becoming more frantic as your spine straightens and your thighs close on his hands. “Miguel? I-” You cut yourself off with a moan and your head falls to his shoulder again, blocking your face from his view.

“No, no.” He brings his hand to the back of your neck again. “Let me see, amor.” He pulls you away from his shoulder and you moan at the nickname. Once again, it didn’t mean to slip out but you’ve got his head so cloudy he can’t help it. You’re moaning his name on repeat, like a warning and he’s pulsing at the thought, the promise of getting to see you cum, for him. His eyes can’t look away from you, he can’t see anything but your face, the way your brows furrow as you tense, and your nails dig into his arms, leaving reminders for later. He watches how you bite your lip before your jaw drops into an ‘O’ shape and his name falls from your lips one more time as a debauched cry. 

He keeps his eyes open, watching you cum for him, how your lips form around his name again and again. He wants to collapse, fall to his knees with how much you’re turning him on but he needs to watch you. He forces himself to keep his eyes on you, ignoring the way they want to roll back at how he’s flooding his pants. His hips twitch against the edge of the table as he cums for you, with you. His mind zeros into the way he can feel your clit pulsing underneath his finger tips, how breathless you sound, trying to keep up with the noises he’s forcing from you. His stomach tenses painfully as his cock unloads more cum onto himself. You sound like an angel, crying out for him. He can’t help the way he dives for you, pulling you in to kiss him and swallowing every moan you’ll give him. 

You whine into his mouth as his fingers slow down over your clit, your other hand meets the first in his hair and you keep his lips on yours. He keeps kissing you until you calm down and your breathing evens out. His hand comes from between your thighs and rubs your legs until you pull back from his lips. You have a bashful, embarrassed look on your face and it brings the largest smile that you’ve ever seen to his face. “Was that okay, pequeña araña?” You whine and pull him in for a hug, nodding into his shoulder as he chuckles and wraps his arms around you as you begin to giggle against him.      

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[blockedbykei]

manager!reader x tsukki please

karasuno team making predictions about who will be the first one to become a dad in the future, not knowing it will be tsukki 🫢

say that theyre having a reunion and all of them goes 0_o after seeing readers bby bump, you could do the rest tbh😭❤️

currently living off my mobile data 🙏 tysm for this request

— little easter egg here if u see it

the boys were always eager to place bets on things unnecessary. who can spike the most balls, who can drink the most milk, who can shove the most meat in their mouth without chewing it. they always bargained a few yens or free food.

it had rubbed on you a few bets later.

in the night before sugawara, daichi, shimizu, and asahi's graduation day, the whole team had decided to have a sleepover inside the gym. the boys set up their futons on the court, while the girls stayed at the stage, futons side by side.

but you were all gathered in the middle, clad in mismatched pyjamas, snacks tossed around, dinner melted in your stomachs. you were guaranteed that this night would hold a special place in your heart– something to look back to when change begins the next day.

"who's most likely to...?" kageyama falls back, head on a pillow beside hinata's thigh, a finger on his chin. "go to jail?"

you and tsukishima point at hinata. yamaguchi points at yachi, and she, including kageyama, sugawara, daichi, and shimizu, point at tanaka. asahi points at noya, as well as narita, kinoshita, and ennoshita.

"this one gets breaking and entering," kei says. "tanaka-san gets harrassment. noya for disorderly conduct."

you laugh and lean your shoulder on his, reaching over his lap for a mochi. you feel his nose tickle the top of your head, but it was one of the few subtle public affections he only gives you that night. kei bites on your dessert, glancing at you as a small way of expressing his gratitude.

"okay," hinata throws another pack of chips on the futon, bouncing lightly. "who's most likely to become a parent in the next 10 years?"

majority seemed to point at daichi and sugawara. they both gasp.

"why us?"

"you parent all of us!"

"we wouldn't have to if you all acted like you were properly disciplined," daichi says, eating a chip from koshi's hand. you missed the way the tips of his ears blushed.

"i think tsukishima here would be a dad first," tanaka teases. he cranes his leg and kicks his shin jovially. "eh? since you're the first one here to get a girlfriend out of all of us."

your cheeks flush, burning when kei gives you a quick glance before shrugging. nonetheless you shrug, placing your hands behind you to lean back. "i think kageyama would be a dad first."

ennoshita snorts. "i caught him talking to a girl the other day."

"he peed himself," hinata quips. "he was asking for his pen back, i'm pretty sure he'd be asking for his dignity back, too."

"fuck off, dumbass."

"i bet a thousand yen on kageyama being the first one to be a dad!" noya slams his fist, rattling the snacks on the futon. tsukishima scoffs, however ignored by the others as they buzz in excitement. "anyone on tsukishima?"

"me and yachi," yamaguchi raises his hand, lifting hitoka's. hinata joins them.

"what about me?" daichi points to himself. "i could be the first one to be a dad. i'm your senior!"

"a thousand yen on daddy daichi!"

"noya, you can't switch your bet!" tanaka yells. "stick to kageyama. i'm going with sawamura-san."

they look at you. "oh, i'm not joining."

"i am," tsukishima says. "i'm on daddy kageyama." he winks.

"please don't lose this bet," hinata pleads to his setter, hands clasped. "i don't want to lose a thousand yen. keep it in your pants."

"shut up, hinata!"

later that night, when everyone had laughed their way to sleep, you and tsukishima silently snuck out the dark gymnasium and into the open night sky, walking towards the football field and laying down in the middle of it, damp grass tickling your backs.

"seriously though, who do you think would be a dad first?" you ask him, craning your neck to the side to look at him. tsukishima was already looking at you, glasses askew, his eyebrows raised just the slighest.

"kageyama wouldn't get a girl pregnant until he's forty." he jests. "me though..."

his tone is playful, the way his shoulders come up to a shrug. you wheeze out and laugh, clutching your chest, even though it made you blush deeply. he only wrinkles his nose at you, but his smile reaches to his eyes. "i doubt, kei. i think daichi would be first."

"why didn't you say it?"

"you being their answer caught me off guard!" you argue, hands in the air. "whaddya think, though? should we let them win this?"

"i'm kinda surprised they think kageyama would be the first to be a dad considering he literally eye fucks a volleyball," he pokes your cheek. "i don't want to let them win though."

you pat his head. "don't knock me up until we're 41, 'kay?"

tsukishima got you pregnant at 27.

and while you were both elated at the sight of two lines at a cheap stick, it was soon dropped at the realization that you (technically he did) had let them won one of the bets.

("keep it inside you until you're forty!"

"i can't fucking do that, smartass.")

you both hoped that they'd long forgotten the 11 year bet, that the minute they stepped through the door, everyone would gasp at the sight of your growing belly and coo at the thought of little blondes running around your home and into their arms.

much to your dismay, it was the first thing they brought up.

"a thousand yen!" hinata exclaims, his hand already out to accept their cash.

they immediately hand out their cash in his palm before scurrying up to awe at your belly, all bent to face it. you place your hands on top, tsukishima splaying his fingers protectively on your hip.

"it's so big!"

"honey, don't say that," shimizu swats tanaka on his head.

yachi takes your hand in both hers, shaking in excitement. "how far long?!"

you smile. "four months."

kageyama, with hinata under his arm, approaches you with a grin so condescending. "i'm going to bully your child to death," he tells kei.

"i'm going to bully you to death, virgin boy."

"i- i am not a virgin!"

the rest of the evening was spent gawping at your belly. you'd only allowed asahi, daichi, hinata, yachi, shimizu, and the godfather yamaguchi to touch your stomach.

(yamaguchi had fainted when kei announced he'd be the godfather).

and while everyone else were occupied at the sport playing on the tv, you rest your back on kei's chest, body between his legs, laced fingers on top of your stomach. it felt like the sleepover back then; and you're too emotionally over the edge that it sends an overwhelming tear on your eyes.

tsukishima cranes his neck to look down at you and wipes your tear, pushing your hair behind you. "why you crying, love?"

"nothing," you sniffle, snuggling deeper into him. though he seemed to have read your mind, and placed a warm kiss on your temple.

"hey," nishinoya stands up, tanned arms stretching. "i bet a thousand yen little tsukishima here is a boy."

you and tsukishima yell at him to stop.

but 8 out of 15 voted for a girl (ennoshita, sugawara, yachi, shimizu, yamaguchi, you, tsukishima)

7 of those voted for a boy and strictly told tsukishima to train him to play volleyball.

those 7 players paid outside the delivery room when tsukishima came out with a babygirl in his hands, telling everyone that she was hoshi, who had his eyes and hair, but had your smile that he loved and adored.

[jellyfishoreo1206]

Home? (Sebastian Solace x Reader)

Notes: Small Drabble, Sebby and Painter really need their happy ending guys :(

Credit to @cafekitsune for the divider ^^

Tears fell down your cheeks when the scene of nature invaded your senses. It felt so . . . overwhelming to be back home. After agonizing day after agonizing day down in that hellhole. The gently swaying of the trees, the soft chirps of the birds and the sound of rushing water greeting your ears contrasted greatly to the sounds of the empty ocean and horrifying screams that seemed to ring out days on end; finally seeing colors that aren't grey; the fresh smell of the trees and plants invading your sense of smell made you forget the strong smell of iron and saltwater that seemed to be present in every room.

Yeah . . . you were finally home.

With company, too. Risking a glance over to Sebastian, in his hands was the monitor of Painter, memories flood your brain that lead up to this exact moment. UrbanShade saw him as too much as a threat to the company, so much that they had sent out several EXR-P's to attempt to kill him only to fail miserably. You happened to be one of those EXR-P's. But you weren't able to go through with it, you read his file before being sent out. How he was accused of a crime he didn't commit, to being mutated beyond belief whilst in a great immense of pain, to being treated like an animal by the personnel of the company.

So when you finally encountered the man, you simply took the gun out of its holster, and handed it over to him with no hesitation. When he asked? You simply told him you refuse to be another chess piece for a company that has brought him suffering, and you wished to help him go against them.

He laughed at you for a good minute, calling you stupid for thinking that your, "little trick", would work on him of all people.

---

"Then shoot me." Those words seemed to snap him out of his laughter, bewildered bright eyes snapping in your direction when those words tumbled out, meeting determined eyes "If you believe me to be the same as those of UrbanShade," You took a step closer to him, giving him the opportunity to shoot you at point-blank, "-then shoot me dead."

---

Ever since, you teamed up against the company—though he helped take out the chip before you could proceed any further, saying how it was too much of a risk that they could be listening in—gathering any pieces of data you could potentially use against them in exchange for your freedom. It seemed to have become easier when Painter joined the cause.

An opportunity soon made itself known, months spent preparing for this one moment, none of you could mess it up. You only had one chance at succeeding. No mess-ups were allowed. It was a grueling process, but you pushed forward, determined to see the light of the sun.

And it worked. A few injuries here and there, but you now had the crystal in your possession. Once the personal heard wind of it, they immediately doubled their efforts to get their grubby hands on the crystal, like a school of piranhas going after a piece of dead meat. Though their efforts ceased when Sebastian threatened to break it with no hesitation, unless they met your demands.

Freedom, a duffel with $XXXXXX of cash and a computer for Painter to use. No chips, no trackers, no bombs, nothing. Unless they want their precious crystal to be destroyed.

And once you finally stepped foot on the surface? You let Painter and Sebastian do what they've wanted to do for a loooonng time; releasing every single piece of data that UrbanShade had to offer to the public.

It spread in a span of minutes.

The government found out about the operation Urbanshade was running, helping you all with building a case against them. The court date was set, so now you could only wait.

Now all that was left to do was watch them burn, in your old farmhouse within the woods, finally free from their clutches.

"Ready to start all over?" You were only met with silence, only the noises of the woods answering you, maybe he didn't hear you. But a glance proved you wrong, his face said everything. There was an unbelievably soft look on his face, his eyes scanning everything that surrounded him; his bottom lip seemed to tremble slightly as an overwhelming tsunami of emotions hit him all at once when the fact he was on the surface again sunk in. His eyes taking on a glassy look, his frame now trembling, holding onto Painter to make sure the AI didn't fall.

Painter only let out a sound of awe at their surrounding, their giggles echoing into the woods when a yellow butterfly landed on the frame of their screen, opening and closing its wings before flying off.

Smiling softly, you intertwined your fingers with Sebastians bigger one, giving it a small squeeze to pull him back to Earth. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his back, readjusting his hold on the computer before looking over at you.

". . . Yeah," A slight crack was heard in his voice, clearing his throat before speaking again, "-yeah I'm ready."

"Let's go home then." Heading towards the worn out path, you missed the look Sebastian made at the mention of home. Home, how long has he thought about home? The safety of one, the shelter of one, the warmth of one?

"Home?"

"Yeah, home."

Next Part

[vivalabunbun]

As You Are, I Am Too

Summary: If we compare people to magnets, opposites attract and sames repel, so why are two stoic faces paired as soulmates?

Word Count: 15.4k (why are you surprised at this point, get some snacks)

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem! Reader, Smut(r18+), NFSW, MDNI, Modern AU, Soulmate AU, Mutual Pinning, Fluff, Slow Burn, Slow fic, Perfectionist! Reader, angst, arranged pairing, TW: Toxic family, unhappy childhood trauma, child of strained marriage trauma, TW: Themes of self-loathing, themes of infidelity(misunderstanding), toxic work environment, slight workplace harassment, pushy boss, slightly yandere! Alhaitham?, Soft! Alhaitham, second chance romance?, slightly bratty! reader, Dom! Alhaitham, Degradation, Heavy adult themes, attempts at comedy

Author Note: This is experimental, I want to explore if two same sides of a magnet can still attract. I want to explore the fumbles and mistakes of love.

Side Note: Here is a continuation

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 all you needed, then you’ll start mopping these foul floors. 

A clink of aluminum hitting the wooden boards draws your attention back to your father who had finished moisturizing his throat with another swig of beer. 

“Stay away from that drug, kiddo” A sloppy grin stretched across his face as he stared up at a blank ceiling. 

The sight made your arms bristle, seeing a smile on your father’s face was uncanny. Something you’ve never seen at the dinner table, just silent scowls and disgruntled glares constantly exchanged over a subpar meal. 

Wanting him to finish this one-sided conversation, you gave another firm hum, every now and then glazing back toward the hall. 

“Or you’ll end up like this old man.” He wraps the conversation up with a bitter laugh, one which resonated off the blank walls. 

————————

Maybe you should’ve heeded your father’s words. A brilliant scholar to the public but a pathetic drunk when within the confines of a cluttered, noisy house is still a brilliant scholar. 

This was your punishment for straying away from your beliefs. You reached your hand out towards the fire despite knowing it’d  hurt, and you fell in love. Now look at where you are. 

How utterly laughable, you, the ever-bright Ms. Perfect, who’s broken love down to its base form of chemical compounds, fell victim to the addiction that was love.

So blindsided by it.

The fog of love is slowly running its course through him. Once the trees abandon their vibrant greens for shriveled browns in the Autumn, his fever will be over. There’s no such thing as an endless Summer.

How did you not see this coming? Covering your eyes with ignorant hands, blatantly ignoring the signs right in front of your nose.

No more flowers, no more chocolates, and no more movies. 

Turning back around, you took note of a figure in a floor length mirror. Indifferent gaze identical to how your husband looks at you.

Two sides of the same mirror, what’s what you and him are. What’s the use of that? Shiny surfaces point off in opposite directions, yet only ever reflecting one view. What’s the point of having two sides then?

You don’t intrigue him, you can’t show him his blind spots, and you can’t reflect to him a view he’s never seen. Same perceptions, same hobbies, same expressionless faces, how stale it must be. 

It’s much more interesting to have a wife who’ll smile at receiving flowers, a wife whose eyes light up at chocolate, and a wife who’d blabber on about a movie as Alhaitham listens intently. The beating of his heart is starting with someone new.

Emerging out of your thoughts, you stare directly at the person in your mirror.

Dull eyes stared right back, light dimmed from years of staring at a bright star grasping at its warm rays in substitution of a cold house, only for your fingers to slip pass right through.

Idiotic girl, you can’t touch the sun, not even Icarus did. 

An unlovable child grew into an unlovable adult. Add that to your footnote, so you’ll never forget this lesson again. The fool in the mirror finally looks away. 

It didn’t matter if Icarus smiled or laughed as he tumbled from the sky. Silly girl, did you forget what happens in the end of that tale? He drowned alone. 

Drowning isn’t like what the movies show. The thrashing of limbs against cold waves, the garbled screams under the water, all accompanied by the ominous soundtrack crafted by a sound master. It’s all dramatized for the silver screen. 

Muscles pushing through the cold exhaustion, mouth agape but prioritizing large and fast gulps of oxygen over cries for help, followed by the melodic lull of water lapping over eardrums until the head disappears under its surface. Never to breach it again. 

It’s possible for a person to drown in a pool full of people. Just like how it was possible for you to feel alone despite having your husband just across the lacquered expanse of the dinner table. Forks and knives clacking porcelain plates.

It’s a silent death. 

For once you’re grateful to attend a nugatory dinner hosted by your company. Venue filled with superficial smiles and handshakes all over food served on sliver platters. Even if the heels are killing you, you’d rather not wallow in a quiet house.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips, catching someone’s attention. 

“What a heavy sigh, here have some wine to ease the burden.” A glass filled with fragrant wine was held out in front of you. 

Your eyes travel up the hand which offers the vile beverage to you, sights landing on the face of your boss, Bahram. Pushy as always, always testing the limits of your loyalty to a nice pension and dental insurance.

As always you politely push the glass away, uttering a firm “no thank you.”

“Oh c’mom Ms. Perfect, you look like you could use a drink.” He pushes the glass closer. 

 Stares from all around the formal dinner table hone in, the weight heavy on your shoulders. Stakeholders and coworkers turn away from their shallow conversations to watch the brewing spectacle just across the table.

That’s right, you have to be professional, where was your crafted mask? Make use of all those years observing the masters of deception you knew as your parents. 

So you accept the vile glass.

Before the aroma could register on your palate, you emptied the whole glass. Not a single drip escaped past your lips. It took all your strength to no scowl at the sweetly bitter and alcoholic flavor. 

“Oh? Ms. Perfect is drinking tonight?” Some nameless coworker mused. 

Ah, the name lightly tossed around at the office with oblivious chuckles and ignorant smiles. You despise being called that, but not as much as you despise being told ‘you’re just like your father’ and ‘you’re acting like your mother’.

Better to be Ms. Perfect, so disgruntled ‘soulmates’ can’t compare you to their flawed counterpart.

“Do you like this wine? Have some more.” Eagerly, your boss fills the glass once more. 

Staring at the beckoning liquid swirling in the glimmering cup, as the weight of those stares force your hands to accept it once more. 

Maybe you should’ve just stayed home. 

“I should really be trying to sell you our products but… I think you’ll find a better gift at another store. Here, I’ll write the address down for you! They have the best jewels, I’m sure you’ll find something for your wife there!” Hastily the shop assistant scribbles on a notepad before pushing the slip into his palm. 

“Just don’t tell my manager.” Clasping her hands in front of her mouth, signaling to him to keep a secret. 

Alhaitham simply nods, examining the address in his hands. He hasn’t tried jewelry yet, but a ring would look nice on your hand. Maybe you’d think so too.

“You really love her, don’t you mister?” Nilou notes how attentively his hands smooth over the address. 

Pausing for a moment, Alhaitham envisions the softness of your cheeks shifting as that tender smile spreads across your lips. Yours eyes reflecting the light off the polished and cut gem as he slips it onto your bare finger. 

“I do.” Unable to stop the softening of his gaze. 

———————————————————————————

A ring still left in its miserable black box, stowed away in the depths of a drawer. A sigh slips out of him just like how he let another opportunity to place the jewel on your finger pass. You’re attending a company dinner tonight, a rare occasion requiring you to dress up.

The dress draped over your figure and curves just right and highlighted the contours of your body. He wanted to tell you this earlier as you were leaving, too bad he was occupied with swallowing ‘stay home’. 

There’s an annoying itch in the deepest depths of his mind. Covetous hands crawled up his spine, they tried to convince his own fingers to grasp around your wrist and pull you back into the house.

Alhaitham shakes that itch away, refocusing his attention onto your bookshelf in front of him.

You have a life and responsibilities outside these walls, he can’t overstep the boundary to block you from your individuality. Running a finger along the tops of the neatly lined books, searching for something to redirect his impulses.

Momentum halting when his finger sunk into pages when he expected the firm edge of a spine. The force crumpling the paper, immediately he pulls it into his hands, smoothing out the folded edges. Title catching his attention. 

The Lifespan of Love, the only book where the spine wasn’t facing out. Flipping it to the back, Alhaitham scans the blurb, noting the portrait of the scholar who authored it.

A familiar face, a professor who’s lectures he barely attended. A distinguished researcher and mentor in the eyes of his old university.

The sight of his face made Alhaitham recall a scene he once witnessed. 

————————

The halls of the Psychology department were desolate, as they always were. A much-appreciated reprieve from crowded foyers as a quiet student walks to his next exam in the department next door. 

Just as his hand reached up to activate his headphones, two voices caught his attention, the high shrills of a woman and the raspy shouts of a man leaking out from an office door left ajar.

It has nothing to do with him, Alhaitham know this, but he still had 30 minutes to kill before the exam.

Teal eyes peer through the gap between the oak doorframe.

A man the student recongizes, but the scowl and flush of rage twisted his face into an unrecongizable mess. The professor juts his finger towards the woman as foul names left his mouth, the same mouth which lectured the brightest minds of Sumeru. 

The woman screams back equally loathsome words, tears leaving mascara trails down her red cheeks. Suddenly, she grabs a lamp off his desk and hurls it to the floor. 

For a brief moment, the scholar pauses as his eyes scanned over the broken debris scattered along the floor. Then his fist slammed into the solid oak of his desk, thud so forceful the office ratted with the poor furniture.

His shouts resume, volume escalating by the minute. 

Alhaitham backs away from the door, turning on his noise-canceling headphones. He’s satisfied his curiosity enough, walking off to his exam. 

————————

A peculiar sight behind the superficial mask of a respected professor with his jolly grin and light hearted jokes with students. Inspecting the name printed just underneath the portrait, a furrow forms between his brow as he scrutinizes the spelling closer.

The professor’s last name was spelled the same way as yours. 

Oh. So this is the source you were citing back then. Numbers and figures published by a notable name backing your rebuttal to the societal notion of a soulmate. Inquisiveness rearing its impatient nose, inciting his hands to choose this book as his subject tonight.

You never told him, so he never asked. This was a chance to peer into a view sealed behind your closed lips.  

To study, dissect, and analyze the resources which congergated together to form the you of today. Alhaitham isn’t going to deny such an opportunity.

Teal eyes glance at the ticking hands of a clock, he’s got a good few hours of reading before you return.

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

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. 

[imaginaryf1shots]

Take Care of You | Carlos Sainz Jr.

WC: 1.4K

Carlos x Race Strategist!reader

Summery (REQUESTED): when you’re stressed and working you seem to forget to eat, good thing your boyfriend is here to remind you.

Warning: none?

Masterlist

Carlos Masterlist

When you applied for the job as a race strategist at Ferrari you expected many things, travelling the world, getting to see races live each weekend, meeting new people, but the last thing you expected is to find love, and you found it in not just a colleague you found it in Carlos Sainz Jr.

Your relationship with the Ferrari driver isn’t a secret, the team and the fans know all about it, Carlos isn’t known for being subtle at all, he always has a hand on you one way or another, physical touch being one of his love languages. You've been together for a year now so you know each other quite well. you’ve been travelling together for each race, stay in the same hotel rooms and you’ve spent most of your time off together as well. for Carlos this is so different from all the relationships he had before where he only saw his girlfriends every now and then. safe to say you’ve seen how a stressed Carlos could be like and Carlos has seen how you are when you’re stressed.

Working as a strategist for any Formula one team is hard and stressful espically with RedBull dominance, Ferrari has been at the top once and they’re desperate to be there once more, they’re the longest team to ever be part of F1 so that also adds to the pressure on everyone as well. yourself included.

Sometimes there’s so much data to go through and analyse and you’re focused on work that you don't take breaks, and that’s why Carlos has taken to telling you to take a break and to remind you to eat. There have been a few times when he had to bring you some food, even with his busy schedule he’s always making sure that you’re eating, something that you love so much about him and appreciate him for.

*

”Did you eat, mi amor?” Carlos asked you as he came up behind you and kissed the top of your head, you’re sitting in front of the screen looking at the data and your mind is going 100 miles a minute as you;re taking in everything you’re seeing.

”Hmm.” You hum and look at the screen for a minute longer before turning to look at your boyfriend and it takes you a moment longer to realise what he said to you. “Uh.” You look at your watch and see that it’s way past lunch time.

“Come on amor, you have to take care of yourself, you can’t keep forgetting lunch.” Carlos says, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Sorry, I just get busy, I want to get the best strategy and there's so much new data after the new updates.” You say and give him a tired smile.

“I understand, but you have to keep your energy up to be at the top of your abilities , and you need food for that.” Calros scolds you softly and you nod in agreement.

“I know, but-.” You try to reason, turning to point at the screen but Carlos stops you with his hands.

”No buts, come on.” He gently pulls you away from your workstation and with his hands on your shoulders he steers you in the direction of the cafeteria, you and Carlos stand in line and you get your respective food trays, Carlos had placed a chips and somethings that are not included in his diet onto your plate and you knew that he did not just so you could come extra calories and get more energy but to sneak some of your plate for himself as well.

Sitting next to each other your backs to the rest of the cafeteria, you talk about what your day has been like so far, Carlos tells you about what he filmed for social media.

“Ah there you are love birds.” Charles says in greeting with a smile as he sits in front of you two, his own tray of food in front of him.

”Mate, the cafeteria is almost empty, why are you sitting with us?” There’s no malice behind Carlos’ words, he looks around and sees both their trainers and a few other people sitting around but they’re all a bit far from the couple.

”Carlos be nice.” You say to Carlos and give Charles a smile.

”There’s one reason I come and suffer through your lovey dove acts.” Charles says and pauses making you and your boyfriend give him all your attention with a baited breath and with his F1 driver reflexes he snatches some of the food Carlos had on your plate for himself. your mouth drops and Carlos laughs out loud, Charles only smiles innocently.

”I see how it is, you’re both using me to eat what you want without being found out.” You say narrow your eyes at the Ferrari drivers.

”Come on, amor, we love your company.” Carlos says and wraps his arm around your shoulders pulling you flushed to his side leaving no gap between the two of you.

”Yeah, definitely here for your company.” Charles says sarcastically, you raise an eyebrow and Charles gulps the smile slips form his face.

”I think I just saw Andrea come in.” You say and turn your head still stuck to Carlos’s side.

”No, no, no, come one y/n don’t be like that, we’re friends, aren’t we?” Charles hurriedly says and gives you an innocent smile, Carlos laughs at how Charles changed in seconds under your threats.

”I don't know, are we?” You ask, acting like you’re thinking it through.

”Come on, we hang out, I like your company, you’re my teammates girlfriend and we work for the same team.” Charles says and you sigh, nodding to yourself.

”Okay, fine, I won’t tell Andrea.” You say and Charles sighs in relief.

”You’re such a menace mi amor.” Carlos says in your ear and you giggle.

”What can I say, it was all strategic.”

*

there are also times when you’re ‘off work’ but you find yourself in front of your laptop staring at the screen at Carlos’s house, in that particular day, Carlos went out with some of his friends and you opted to stay home to finish working so that you could spend the night with Carlos free from work obligations. Carlos is back six hours after he left only to find you in your spot, your glass is empty of water but nothing else has changed.

”Amor, please tell me you haven’t been sitting here since I left.” Carlos pleads with you once he walks in, he doesn’t even say hello or anything, just walks to the dinner table you made your station at, you look up guilty and Carlos sighs plopping down on the chair next to you. “You know I love taking care of you, but you have to set an alarm or something, you can’t keep forgetting to eat.”

”I know, I know, and I will, I’m almost done, I swear then no more working for a week.” You say knowing that he doesn’t believe you.

“You said that last time, how long do you have left?” He asks and you glance at your screen before looking back at him.

”About half an hour.” You say and he nods.

”Okay, I’ll shower and start on dinner, since someone hasn’t eaten anythig since breakfast.”

“I’ll come help once I’m done.” You say and lean in for Carlos to kiss you before he leaves to the bedroom.

true to his words after a shower and another quick kiss, Carlos is in the kitchen getting ingredients out to make your favourite food. you however don’t take 30 minutes more like 43 but close enough. Once you’re done you go to the kitchen and grin the moment you realise what Carlos is making.

”You’re the absolute best.” You say hugging his back, Carlos chuckles and turns around to hug you back.

”Anything for you amor.” he kisses your forehead and you lean into him enjoying the moment, the silence, being in each other’s presence alone, something that is a bit hard on race weekends and with the last 3 races being after each other this time off is much appreciated.

“I love you.” You whisper and look up at him with a smile, which he quickly matches leaning in he presses his lips to yours in a much slower kiss, conveying the love you have for each other.

”I love you too, even if you forget to eat half of the time.”

“Well, good thing I have you then.” You say and lean up to kiss him one last time before you pull away. “What do you need help with?”

You and Carlos cook dinner together and eat it in front of the TV with a glass of wine enjoying the chill night you're having, knowing that in a week’s time you’ll be back in the paddock and he’d be bringing you food or taking you to eat because you forgot again.

[pressureplus]

Ok ok hear me out.. what if, you did a part two of “Reflection” but the reader finally gets to read Sebastian’s document? And kinda sees how similar they look. It’s kinda dumb because it wouldn’t really much to write about but it’s just a thought 😭

No no, don't apologize. I can work with anything as long as its got 1 sentence or three descriptive words and a vibe! I can easily make you a part two!

Doppelganger

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x Fem!Reader

Au: Classic

Warnings: N/A

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟ ◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

At last you purchased that damn document of his. It had sat on his desk almost teasingly out of your hands. A previous attempt to grab it had ended with his hand pressed over the classified file and a smile. His words spoken slow, as though you were stupid, as he explained that you certainly didn’t have enough for that. Now you could finally touch it all you want. A part of you was feeling a bit sassy when you snatched it right off his desk proudly. The thousand data pieces you just sold to him being shuffled away. You ignored that, for the most part, more focused on finally getting your hands around the classified information you’d been curious about. Finally popping open the file to see what it is he’s been leaving on his desk, you’re met with tons of information. A few pictures falling out that you don’t quite manage to catch.

You ignore them, taking a seat in Sebastian’s shop as he moves around the room, shuffling different pieces of paperwork and chips into places. His hands reaching up for the vents above his head and tugging out a few spare pieces of equipment. You can hear him opening the packs her wanders around with, attaching things to the straps around his body. You choose to ignore that for now. Instead choosing to read the file in front of you. Your eyes scan over the first line, catching onto three things at once. His technical experiment name, his codename, and finally his legal name. Your eyes scanned each individual word quietly. The shuffling in the background not particularly drawing any of your attention. There’s that shoot to kill statement you’ve heard a thousand times before. You’re starting to understand why he’s so aggressive. You’d be pretty pissed too if you were an experiment gone wrong, especially if you hadn’t even done the crime you were accused of.

At last you shut the file, eyes being drawn back to the images now laying on the ground. You scoop them both up. In your hands is an image of current Sebastian, larger and aggressive. He looks damn near ready to shoot the camera. On the other image…you. No wait, not you? His jawline is a bit sharper and he’s got a scar on his face but he looks so much like you. Honestly, it’s a bit shaking. A mugshot that isn’t yours but looks so much like you. The more you stare at it the more begins to make sense to you. The dots connecting on why his reaction to your face was so aggressive. Why he tends to almost stare a little too long. You thought it was because he found you ugly, or because he was trying to grieve the death of a loved one. In some ways, you suppose, he is. He’ll never have this face again. He’ll never be able to see himself properly in the mirror and he certainly wasn’t the innocent man accused of a crime he didn’t commit anymore. How many people had he killed trying to get what was necessary to escape? How human was he anymore, without his face, without his body. Was it human desperation, or animal?

“You never told me you were so pretty.” You joke as Sebastian jolts. It seems he’d gotten so wrapped up in adjusting things that he hadn’t even realized you were still in here. His eyes flick from your face down to your hands. You turn the picture of him around, pointing at it. This only seems to make him mildly uncomfortable as he looks away with a huff.

“Could you not have opened that anywhere else?”

“Sorry…it’s just…you really are handsome.”

“I was, I guess. That was a long time ago now quite obviously.” He slithers closer, scooping up his file and taking the pictures back. He’s careful to push them back into the titled document before shutting it. Then and only then does he hand the folder back to you.

“You still are, maybe you look a little different now, but you’re still very pretty.”

“That’s not a funny thing to joke about.”

“I’m being serious, Sebastian. You’re pretty with or without a human face. Even if this one isn’t really ideal…I still think you look great.”

“Easy for you to say, you’ve still got yours intact.”

“If it’s too painful to look at, I can fix that by wearing my helmet all the time? I just want you to be comfortable. I want you to know that even if you’re not human anymore that doesn’t make you…a monster.” He hesitates, the words sinking into his skin. He’s quiet for a good while before sighing. His hand coming up to his face to drag downward, a display of his exhaustion.

“Just…get out. Take your folder, your batteries, and go back to getting that crystal.”

[its-avalon-08]

One in which the reader is a engineer, the young drivers see her as a big sister and they are trying to get her and Hulkenberg on a date.

set us up (nh27)

im so sorry for getting to this so late, this got lost somewhere in drafts and never saw the light of day but now here it is! enjoy <3

✦ pairing - nico hulkenberg x female!reader

✦ genre - all fluff

day 1: The Coffee Caper

Y/N was exhausted. The post-race debrief had dragged on forever, and all she craved was a strong cup of coffee. Stepping into the motorhome kitchen, she was surprised to find Nico already there, rummaging through the cupboards. "Morning, Nico," she greeted, stifling a yawn. "Looking for something?"

He whirled around, a half-empty bag of coffee beans clutched in his hand. "Uh, yeah. Looks like we're out. Big day ahead, you know?" Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Funny. I could've sworn I saw Daniel bringing in a fresh box yesterday." Suddenly, the door burst open and Daniel Ricciardo himself strutted in, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

"Good morning, lovelies!" he declared, brandishing two steaming mugs. "Just brewed a fresh pot especially for you two... because, you know, sharing is caring." Y/N and Nico exchanged bewildered glances. "Thanks, Daniel," Y/N mumbled, taking the mug. "But really, there was no need."

Daniel winked. "Nonsense! Sharing a morning coffee is practically a first date tradition, wouldn't you say, Nico?" Nico choked on his own spit, sending Y/N into a fit of giggles. "Date?" Nico sputtered. "This is just coffee, mate." Daniel winked again before sauntering out, leaving Y/N and Nico flustered in his wake.

day 2: The Simulator Shuffle

Practice Day 2 was underway, and Y/N was meticulously analyzing telemetry data when Pierre Gasly materialized beside her. "Hey, Y/N," he said casually. "Need a hand setting up Nico's sim session?"

Y/N looked up, surprised. "Nico's already done with his laps?" "Uh, yeah," Pierre stammered, avoiding her gaze. "But his settings seem a bit off. Maybe you could… check them out?" Y/N raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Pierre, what's going on?"

Just then, a sheepish grin spread across Charles Leclerc's face as he peeked around the corner. "Just some friendly driver bonding, wouldn't you say, Y/N?" he chirped before disappearing as quickly as he arrived.

Y/N sighed, a smile tugging at her lips. She found Nico already strapped into the simulator, looking equally bewildered" "Hey," she greeted, a playful edge to her voice. "Having trouble with the settings?"

Nico chuckled, a hint of nervousness in his eyes. "Seems so. Maybe you, the resident genius, could lend a hand?" Y/N spent the next few minutes fiddling with the settings, her presence making Nico acutely aware of the way his heart hammered in his chest. They fell into an easy conversation, discussing racing lines and strategies, the tension between them simmering just beneath the surface.

day 3: The Post-Race Pitstop

The race had been a nail-biter, with Red Bull pulling off a surprise victory. As the celebrations died down, Y/N found herself face-to-face with Nico by the champagne fountain. "Great race," Nico said, raising his glass in a toast. "You guys deserved that win." Y/N clinked her glass against his, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. "Thanks, Nico. You weren't too shabby yourself out there."

Suddenly, Alex Albon materialized behind them, holding two large ice cream tubs. "Victory ice cream, courtesy of yours truly!" he declared, shoving a tub into Y/N's hands. "Chocolate chip cookie dough, your favorite, Y/N," he winked before handing the other tub to Nico and disappearing as quickly as he arrived.

Y/N and Nico stared at each other, then at the ice cream in their hands. "Well," Nico said, a hesitant smile gracing his features. "This seems like a good spot to enjoy the view... and the ice cream." Y/N laughed, a genuine, carefree sound. "Agreed."

They sat on the pit wall, shoulder to shoulder, savoring the sweet treat and the unspoken connection that crackled between them. Maybe, just maybe, the young drivers were onto something after all.

time skip

The Monaco twilight cast an almost romantic glow over the bustling paddock after the race. Mechanics were packing up, champagne flutes were drying on tables, and a tired but satisfied energy crackled in the air. Y/N, having just finished a post-race debrief with her engineers, was about to head back to her hotel when a familiar shadow fell across her path.

"Hey," Nico greeted, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Still analyzing the data? You engineers are a meticulous bunch."

Y/N smiled, the playful banter a familiar comfort. "Someone has to keep you drivers in check, make sure you haven't just been out there winging it."

Nico chuckled, a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine despite herself. "Oh, trust me, there's plenty of winging it involved. But hey, at least it's entertaining."

They stood there for a moment, a comfortable silence settling between them. Y/N knew what everyone else had been whispering for days – the other drivers, trying (and failing) to subtly nudge them together. She couldn't deny there was a spark between her and Nico, a shared love for the sport that transcended results and podium finishes.

"So," Nico started, scratching the back of his neck, a nervous habit Y/N had come to find endearing. "I know this might seem a little… well, after all the matchmaking attempts from the others…"

Y/N couldn't help but grin. "Let me guess, they finally wore you down?"

"Something like that," Nico admitted, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "But honestly, it's not just because of them. There's, uh, there's something about talking to you that's different. You understand the pressure, the thrill, the madness of it all."

His blue eyes met hers, sincere and kind. A blush crept up Y/N's cheeks. "Maybe you understand it a little too well, Mr. Hulk."

Nico's smile widened. "Maybe we could understand it together sometime, outside of the paddock. How about dinner? No post-race debriefs, just good food and good conversation."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. This wasn't just any invitation, it was Nico asking her out, on his own terms. "That sounds… perfect," she finally managed, a genuine smile lighting up her face.

"Great," Nico said, relief washing over his features. "Then how about I pick you up tomorrow night? Eight o'clock work for you?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Y/N replied, her voice brimming with excitement.

As Nico turned to leave, a playful glint returned to his eyes. "Just a warning, though," he said over his shoulder. "I might be a wing-it kind of driver, but I promise to bring my A-game to dinner."

Y/N laughed, the sound echoing through the emptying paddock. "We'll see about that, Nico. We'll see about that."

[shegatsby]

Not sure exactly what you’re okay/not okay with as far as requests go, but I’d like to request a Hannibal x AFAB reader (or gn if you prefer) where the reader has a crush on Hannibal and discovers that he’s a serial killer and tells him she’s more attracted to him because of it. I’d prefer it ends up in the bedroom (wink wink) but it’s up to you :)

A/N; Hello love, thank you for this request I certainly enjoyed writing it. Enjoy!

Warnings; Hannibal killing a man, a little smut

First time you saw him was something else. You almost became a victim of a serial killer but thankfully a team of FBI agents and Dr. Hannibal Lecter saved you. Turns out this killer was on the loose for months and you dropping your phone in his car made them catch him, you were forever grateful. Dr. Lecter was a psychiatrist who was helping the FBI with their serial killer cases and he was also collecting data for a research of serial killers and he offered free therapy sessions in exchange of information. Seemed like a good deal.

It had been few months since you started the therapy and it was going smoothly for him but for you, you had to keep pressing your thighs together every time he played with his pen or grabbed something. Over the weeks you saw and observed tiny changes in his behavior. He started to loose his tie around his neck, rolled up his sleeves, gave your lingering looks. You also had minor changes, such as; wearing clothes that fit your body perfectly and showing your womanly figure, curves and all. You knew that revealing clothes won’t make him come to you so you started to dress elegantly, just like him.

One time you mentioned how much you like baking and he asked you to bake something for him and you did.   The next week you brought chocolate chipped cookies and he opened a bottle of wine.

He surprised you by having a cabinet in his office dedicated to all kinds of wine and you surprised him by fulfilling your promise of baking something for him. Hannibal Lecter never relied on anyone ever since he was a child, he never believed promises of people, even the ones he who are close to him because life thought him that people are deceitful animals. However, you managed to surprise him, it felt like a date but neither of you said anything about it.

Weeks went by and you kept surprising him with small things. One day, you baked a cake, it was the anniversary of you meeting him. You went to his office without telling him, it was suppose to be a surprise. Before you knocked on the door you heard some noises, a man coughing and things falling to the ground so you quickly opened the door to see the scenario.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter was on top of a man who was equally tall and strong as him and Hannibal’s big hands wrapped around that man’s throat, you halted in your steps. Your hands which were holding the container of the cake were shaking, your fight or flight response was triggered. You didn’t know what to do, in that moment you could feel everything and see, hear everything that was happening such as your soaked panties sticking to your core. You could feel your cheeks heat up, your heartbeat rising, Dr. Hannibal Lecter was murdering someone right in front of you and all you could think about or fantasies about how would you feel if his hands were wrapped around you, on his table..

When the man stopped breathing and struggling Hannibal bolted to his feet and turned to face you. His maroon eyes were startled at first but you could see his dilated pupils roaming on your body.

He didn’t  say anything, his chest heaving up and down, he closed the door and locked it, he came to you and held your shaking hands, put the container aside, ‘’Shh, I’m here, calm down.’’ Now that he was close you could see the bruises on his face, dry blood on his plump lips, blackened left eye, scratches here and there. His fingers went to put a strand of hair behind your ear, even under this strange circumstances, his eyes were soft as they addressed you.

He guided you to the couch. He sat next to you, his eyes never leaving yours. ‘’Now,’’ he breathed, ‘’What shall I do with you, little dove?’’

You didn’t respond, you were a deer caught in the lights. ‘’He attacked me, you saw what happened. I was defending myself.’’ He was so calm a sudden thought crossed your mind;

‘’This isn’t his first time.’’

Your body shivered, you knew what he wanted. He wanted you to tell Jack Crawford and others what you saw but an altered version of it, all you could do was to nod and let things happen.

It had been few weeks since that incident and you avoided your sessions with him. You made up excuses, one week you pretended like you had the cold, the other week you said you were out of town etc.

Every week he sent you a present, the week you were supposedly cold he sent you soup and warm bread, it was handmade. There was also a note; ‘’Get well soon, dove.’’

Your knees went weak with that note and gesture, the other week he sent you flowers, elegant and pure white bouquet of peony. Last week you’ve made up a lame excuse of not being in the mood and he called you on the phone.

‘’Hello Dr. Lecter?’’ you answered in a calm manner, ‘’Hello dove, I was wondering-‘’ he paused for a second ‘’why are you avoiding me. Well, I know the reason but I want to hear it from you.’’ You felt your heart go faster, subconsciously your thighs were pressing hard, ‘’It is best that I don’t join the sessions anymore Dr. Lecter.’’ You said out of breath, hearing his voice after a long time did something to you. He let out a devastatingly long sigh, you felt it in your core. ‘’I was hoping it doesn’t come to this.’’ He sounded tired and defeated.

You imagined him sitting in his office, sleeves rolled up, playing with his pen while talking to you. You wanted to rush to his aid, he was a busy man with a hectic schedule, you wanted to give him something to come home to. The thought of it made you get wet.

‘’Thank you for testifying on my behalf.’’ He sounded genuine.

At first he thought you would tell the truth but when you told everyone exactly what he told you he was impressed. There was something about you that he couldn’t put his finger on. He sometimes had this urge to pull your brain out and study it because you fascinated him profoundly, but then the thought of physically hurting you made him feel disgusted, which was rare in his case.

‘’You saved me,’’ you said remembering the night, he was the one who wrapped you in a blanket and carried you to the ambulance, he was the one who sat and waited by your side in the hospital.

‘’and I saved you, the debt is paid.’’ Your free hand slowly went to the waistband of your pjs, sid in and found your aching core, he cannot possibly realize can he?

‘’My little dove, hearing you say this breaks my heart, your life is not a burden.’’ He knew how you feel about yourself, a freak, a burden..

You loved the way he said ‘’dove’’ his accent thick, you wondered what else is thick about him. You wanted him to keep talking to you.

‘’Where are you right now? And be honest.’’ His tone had a warning, such dominance.. ‘’H- home.’’

Hannibal wasn’t a stupid man, he admired your boldness, talking to your therapist while touching yourself.

‘’Good girl.’’ He loved your honesty, maybe you were the only person who was honest to him from the start ‘’What are you doing?’’ he asked, even though he knew it.

Your panties were soaked, ‘’Laying on my couch.’’ You managed to say, his hand went to stroke his clothed member, he swallowed, ‘’I was asking as in.. action wise.’’ He teased. You were rubbing your wet cunt slowly, you let out a sigh. A pornographic one to be exact. ‘’Nothing-‘’

He didn’t let you continue, ‘’Tell me, do you always dream  of me when you touch yourself? His question shocked you, at first you thought you heard him wrong, but the silence continued. Cat was out of the bag, he caught you. ‘’Yes.’’ You said. Hannibal could feel himself getting harder. He stood up, locked his office door, you heard it. He sat back and unzipped his pants, he never thought he would be doing this in his office, well, he also never thought he would kill someone in his office but here we were.

‘’What are you wearing?’’ he asked, feeling like a school boy but it excited him. ‘’Nothing.’’

It was right, the second you heard him lock the door you took off your clothes, ‘’Clever girl. I assume you’re dripping wet, I have neglected you for so long, keep touching yourself.’’

Hannibal leaned back, stroking himself, his tip leaking, ‘’How do you dream of me?’’

One hand in your core the other touching your boob –he was on speakers- you spoke, ‘’Sometimes on the table, sometimes on the couch or in your bed. Pushing me down and taking me..’’

You remembered the scene, he was on the ground on top of a man and choking him. It made you moan. Your soft whimpers and divine voice made him stroke himself faster, ‘’Put two fingers inside sweet thing.’’

You could feel the shift in his voice. You moaned louder than before as you inserted your fingers, you were so wet he could hear it clearly. ‘’Every time I come from your office I touch myself.’’ You confessed, which made him growl, he was regretting that he didn’t take you before. He knew that you were interested in him from the beginning, he thought it was because you were in shock –due to your unique condition which is almost being murdered- and you were seeking shelter. He assumed over the weeks your fascination with him would disappear but he was wrong.

He was about to lose his mind because of the sounds you were making ‘’Stop!’’ he ordered and you followed. ‘’Wait for me.’’ And he hung up.

Never in a million years he would think of sleeping with a patient but you changed his mind, he got into his car and drove.

[tinydefector]

I was wondering if I could request some Jazz x GN bot reader nsfw maybe rough yet passionate intercourse and if you’re comfortable with it have the two get caught doing it

I’m so so so sorry if this doesn’t make sense 😭

Plug and Play

Jazz x Cybertronian

Word count: 800

Warning: smut, valveplug, plug and play, wire play, spark bonding. Spark play. Getting walked in on.

Jazz masterlist

_______________

Jazz's optics flicker behind his visor as he watches them, their playful behaviour has him smiling as he grips their hips. A low chuckle escapes Jazz's vocalizer. He shifts beneath them, feeling their movements against him, the subtle grind sending a surge of pleasure through his circuits as they run their servos across his frame.

"Well, darlin'," Jazz purrs, his voice laced with a mixture of desire and amusement, "you seem to be enjoying yourself quite a bit." He thrust up into them, pulling their body down with each thrust. Moans fall from their lips. Their frames are locked together as they both explore each other, tracing paint, chipped marks and dents across each other's plating.

Jazz's frame tenses as their optics meet his, one servo cupping his faceplate as they press their helm to his. He grabs their waist again slamming them down onto his spike. A yelp leaves them as their back arches, his name falling from their lips. his own moans mingling with theirs as their movements grow more frantic.

“Do that again!” They stutter out in a static laced tone. Jazz's servo grabs their backplates holding them firmly as he slams his spike back into them, making sure to grind Himself further into their tight valve. His other servo wraps around their spike pressing against the nodes that line it as he works them up.

"Y-Yes," Jazz gasps, his voice filled with a mix of pleasure and need. "Mmm gonna overload for me sweet thing?." He asked In a mumble against their audial. As their bodies move in perfect sync, Jazz's thoughts become a blur of memories, some his and some theirs as they share data, the overwhelming pleasure that courses through his circuits has him pulling them closer as he begins opening their spark chamber.

With a swift motion, Jazz's plating begins to shift, they both move frantically grabbing wires and plugging them into ports of each other's frame, their sparks singing to each other as they edge closer to an overload. The sound of gears and mechanisms whirring fills the air as he ruts desperately against them.

"I've got you." He guides their servos, helping them navigate the delicate pathways of his chassis, their touch sending shivers of pleasure through his circuits. Jazz's spark quickens syncing with their, their vents aline and in that moment he sees all of them, memories, emotions and so much more. Each beat of their spark has him spiralling further.

With each call of his name, he wishes for nothing more than to be one with them, to have his spark bond with them like this. their moans and cries echoing in harmony in the small room as they cling to each other as if the other would fade away. “Your stunning, please show me more” he almost begs as their sparks begin to dance, pulsing as static buzzes around the glowing orbs of light.

Their servos return to his face, gently guiding his helm back towards theirs. Jazz's optics meet theirs, a mix of wonder and desire shining through. A surge of energy courses through Jazz's circuits as their helms touch, the connection between them felt like liquid energex and ecstasy.

footsteps echo through the door as Prowl enters, his focus intent on his data pad until he looks up. as he catches sight of Jazz and his partner in the act, a mix of shock and horror washes over him. He freezes in his tracks, his optics narrowing.

"What in the fragging Pit is going on here?!" Prowl's voice booms, his tone laced with anger and disbelief. "Have you both lost your fragging minds?!, in the precinct!” He yells

Both of them tense up as they meet Prowls optics. Neither able to talk from the amount of energy flowing through their lines.

"Fragging pits, get decent, by primus I don't need to see that " Prowl snaps, his voice filled with a bitter edge as he slams the door shut behind him. "You should be ashamed of yourselves," Prowl yells out as he storms down the hallway. The sound of a table being thrown can be heard along with other voices questioning what was going on.

Both of them lay there together venting in sync before laughter trickles from them. “Told you he'd find us” they mumble into Jazz's plating which only makes him pull them closer as he cradles their face against his. “Worth every second of the lecture we will be getting” Jazz utters while tracing their faceplate. “Your cleaning up the broken table” they smile at him as they flick his helm cress making him lean back out of the firing range.

Jazz's optics soften as he watches their smile, their playful gesture momentarily easing the tension that still lingers in the air. He chuckles softly, his spark slowly cooling at their gentle touch. "Looks like I've got my work cut out for me, don't I?" Jazz replies, his tone lighthearted

_______________

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[eywamygoddesswrites]

— 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓭 — (multiple x fem!reader) | 1

pairing: avatar men x fem!human!reader

tags: just men taking care of the reader during her period, can be seen as platonic/romantic

warnings: like one pussy joke and that's about it HAHAHAHAHA

a/n: neteyam, lo'ak, ao'nung, and rotxo are aged up! this is for the men characters since i don't want it to be too long. the ladies of avatar will have their own post because let's all be honest, we love women. also i made this 'cause it's currently shark week and everything hurts ;-;

also sorry for the lack of any new fics. i'm hella hella busy with school and i have duties next week (just 3 days) but i will be in the hospital with no data sooooo yeah :cc and the rest are regular f2f classes. i hope y'all understand.

also, happy one month everyone!! i've been posting for one month now and i hope we continue this flowery road together 💙 anywhos, i hope you guys enjoy!

word count: 1.3k

jake sully

this man was a human in his previous life, he knows what the fuck he was doing

when you got your period in the middle of work, jake (with his strong avatar senses) caught a scent of you

he asked norm where they keep women's pads and norm pointed to where they were

he got some pads and getting a few more stuff that you liked

some chocolate bar, a venti cup of coffee/juice/tea, and a heating pad

you were surprised when he stood beside you with said stuff in his hands

then you finally got the idea

oooooooohhhhh… is it that time already?

yes, baby girl. but don’t worry, i’ll help you

he goes with you until you reach the lady's comfort room

he gives you the pads and tells you to holler for him if you need anything else

waits for you while you do your thing

younger!jake would rock back and forth on his feet and bite off the skin of his lips (a habit i canon him of having) while he waited by the door

older!jake would go to get the stuff he forgot if he forgets and comes back before you knew he even left

once you were done, he suggests you take a rest now before the cramps start

you told norm this and being the great friend he was, he lets you go rest

jake would be there for you like your personal cocoon

he would massage you abdomen, lower back, head, or wherever you felt pain in

would get you whatever that is you need

just honestly the best in the bunch since he knew what human women go through

neteyam sully

you yo daddy’s son !!!11!1!!

but for real, he’s like a mini jake with neytiri’s face and her nurturing aura

he learned how to care for human girls because of his dad

literally cried when you first got your period since he thought you were dying

but jake reassures him it’s a normal thing human girls go through (since na’vi girls and women don’t go through this | i agree with the fanon that na’vi women don’t get periods)

would learn basic human anatomy just so he understands what was happening during your periods

kinda scared because of the side effects of periods

would do anything and everything just for you to be comfortable during your monthly bleeds

since na’vi bodies were a lot warmer, he uses his hands as heating pads to put over your abdomen

would purr when you’re on his chest as he massages your lower back

sings his songcord to you to lull you to sleep

kisses are a must with this man

would litter you with kisses to make you smile and feel better

he just loves you :ccc

lo’ak sully

obviously, like neteyam, he knows that human girls get their period

he’s similar to neteyam but a bit different in his approach to periods

he didn’t really know what he was supposed to do at first

like, should he massage you or should he not because it might worsen your pain

do you like chips or chocolate more?

what pussy size you got because there are so many pad sizes—

tAMPONS ARE A THING WHAT—

lowkey scared of that thing and why tf does it go in?!>!?!

still, his effort counts really

it’s the thought that counts

he still helps you around (even with the smallest thing like grabbing a cup of water)

would follow your commands especially when the pain is unbearable and you need assistance

he would stay with you in your room even when you sleep just in case you wake up and need help (even if you told him it’s okay to go home and rest. he insists on staying)

would go to norm and ask for extra gas air when he runs out of it

would bring you some pandora fruits because weirdly, you crave them more than the regular food you eat

would treat you greatly 1000/10

tonowari

like his son, he didn’t know what periods are so he asks his friend jake about it

upon learning what they were, he immediately goes into his ‘teddy bear’ mode

he would be cuddly as fuck

like  c u d d l y  cuddly

a cuddle bug for sure

he would always bring you fresh food to eat

would help around your home despite being a busy man himself

would treat you as if you were a porcelain doll

would weave you a reusable period underwear (with the help of ronal) so you can just clean them and reuse them

would do your laundry and wouldn’t be bothered by the blood stains at all

when you need him (especially when you’re a lot emotional), he would stay with you until you feel better

doesn’t matter if you fell asleep. he will do his duties once you wake up and say that you’re feeling better

only then he would be comfortable enough to leave to tend to his duties

would ask tsireya and ronal to look after you especially when he’s a lot busier and can’t go to you physically

overall like my man jake but a lot more domestic

would recommend to everyone

ao’nung

he didn’t understand what a period is and why you got them because he didn’t care at first

you’re a sky person, the cause of distruction

but you were different (or whatever jake sully and his kids say)

but the more time he spent with you, he must at least learn what you go through, being your period

it was weird that you had to go through this every month until you become old

like, his mom and sister never got these so why were your kind cursed with them?

would ask jake or his kids what he can do to help you out

you stayed in a makeshift house with regular oxygen so you can eat without having the stupid mask on

ao’nung literally didn’t like the mask he has to breathe pandora air in but after one time that he didn’t use them, he didn’t like the feeling so he uses them religiously when he’s with you

he would bring you gifts and meals he caught so you don’t feel too isolated when you don’t leave your home

would ask you constantly what you were feeling and if you feel uncomfortable at every moment of the day

are you okay? does you abdomen hur—

i’m fine ao’nung!!

would still ask for confirmation if you’re really really okay

would carry you every time you leave your house (even if you went out to walk and stretch your legs)

shy with physical affection (hugs, kisses) so the most he can do is carry you

call it his love language in a way

rotxo

he was absolutely lost when he sees you bleeding. like neteyam, he thought you were dying

he thought he would never see you again

but when you explained that human women bleeding was normal, he was like:

dude, that must suck so bad

it does, rotxo, it does

but still, he wants to help you out the best way he can

like the other metkayina men here, he would bring you food to eat and bring little trinkets to make you feel better

since metkayina bodies were a lot cooler than omatikaya bodies but still warmer than human bodies, he does his best to warm you up

he stays with you as much as he can just so he can help you

craving for a certain fruit? he’ll get it for you

need a soothing cream from ronal? he will get it for you

you feel tired? he can go into your home, use the stupid-looking gas mask to breathe and stay with you longer, and keep you company

he’s just a sweetheart man give him compliments pls

taglist: @nyotamalfoy @hanhanartz @murderousmushroom @myvath @iwaslikeblah

— part 2 with the avatar ladies here

[vibratingskull]

Hi! I saw your open to chiss requests? I’ve just read the thrawn ascendency trilogy and I’m down bad for Somakro. Grumpy man with a loyal heart of gold?? I’m down so bad.

Anyway. Maybe a fluffy fic about Somakro having feelings for a fellow officer? Maybe he sees her help little skywalker chiri with something and his heart melts because he already respected her military prowess but she’s also good with kids??

I’d really take anything

Grumpy man being a sweetheart deep inside!!! 🥹🥹🥹 It woos me every time! Come get your glorious man and sweep him off his feet!

art by @jun-c

Samakro x F!Chiss!reader

Tags: Fluffy fluff, lil bit of childcare

Samakro types on his questis, keeping a sharp gaze on the officers under his command and Ch’eri on her chair.  When he is on the bridge nothing escapes him, he becomes an all-seeing being, monitoring his warriors and keeping tabs on everything happening. His subordinates feel him looming behind them and straighten their posture by reflex. 

The Springhawk leaves hyperspace in a resounding thud, shaking everyone present. They arrived. 

“Send me the last coordinates of the Pirates.” Samakro orders. 

He spins to go sit in the command chair and has to muster all his will to not take a step back before you. He didn't hear you approaching. You smile gently, handing him a microchip. 

“The coordinates, sir.” You say respectfully. 

Well, that was quick! 

That was instantly even. 

He takes the chip and inserts it in the port of his questis. 

“I will also need the calculations of their last 8 travels recorded, their spotted hideouts, and the audio recordings of the messages in their native language.” 

“They are all in there.” You nod. 

Oh... 

Well, it is refreshing to have officers able to think ahead. 

“I highlighted the pirates’ favorite routes and calculated some probability for their possible next spot appearance, I noticed a trend in the hours they chose to attack the Ascendancy. They seem random but there is a constant of 3 days and 5 hours between each of them, rinse and repeat 5 times then they disappear for two weeks to a month and resume.” You explain. 

Samakro looks at you, almost suspiciously. 

“And you noticed that alone?” 

“I studied the data during my break times.” 

That’s a heavy workload that you just lift from their shoulders. He and Thrawn will need to check if you are correct in your speculation but that will not take more than 45 minutes to review the data. 

“Thank you... Officer (Y/n)’(F/n)” He finally says after ogling you for several mute seconds. 

“Of course, Sir!” You stand to attention with a smile and walk away. 

He pretends to look back to his questis once again but looks at you walking away. That is not the first time you proved yourself zealous, and the Chiss expansionary defense fleet adores those types of behavior. If you are indeed right in your analysis he should keep a closer tab on you, you may become the next prized pupil of the fleet and his job is to facilitate your accession to higher ranks for the common good. 

He observes how you chuckle and give handshakes to several colleagues as you take back your place. You are visibly popular, which can also be an advantage in the future. With his gruff personality, Samakro was not really appreciated in the ranks of the Navy and counted his friends on the fingers of one hand. 

You do not seem to have that problem. 

“Skywalker Che’ri, you may return to your room and rest.” He orders, refocusing on the data. 

“O...Okay...” He hears the tired voice of the little girl. 

He sniffs, eyes on the screen when reality strikes him. 

Thalias is with Thrawn in his office! 

He spins his head just in time to see the little girl losing her balance as she heads toward the door. 

He is about to throw his questis to the other side of the bridge and lunge to catch the poor child when you pop out of nowhere and receive her little body in the security of your arms. 

“Careful there, Che’ri!” You chuckle with a bright reassuring smile, “I would hate for you to hurt yourself!” 

Samakro finishes crossing the bridge to join you both and kneels next to you. Che’ri raises her visibly tired face toward you and sighs. 

“I... I am sorry (Y/n).” she says almost in tears. 

The kid is exhausted, they had to push her limits to reach their destination. Usually, even Samakro is uneasy with the idea of overworking a child, but those pirates kidnapped several Chiss girls. 

Several potential Skywalkers... 

They NEEDED to arrive before all of them, and for that, they needed Che’ri to push past her limits. But now she is obviously distraught, and Samakro feels a pinch in his heart. 

But you simply laugh and caress her hair gently. 

“Do not be, silly. You worked really hard today! You deserve a warm dinner and a good, long night’s sleep!’ 

Samakro witnesses as you casually kiss the top of the head of the little girl. 

Where does that familiarity come from? 

But Che’ri doesn’t seem weirded out by your action and even presses her little cheek against your arm hugging her. Che’ri sighs again under the caresses on her hair, she looks ready to lose consciousness. She clearly is in no condition to walk back to her suite. 

“Skywalker Che’ri, with your consent I will carry you to your suite, all right?” He says, extending his large hand to her. 

You both turn your head to him, you with a silent approving gaze and her with drawn features and glossy eyes.  

He knows Che’ri is kind of afraid of him. He doesn't exude the calm and paternal aura Thrawn has around the girl, he is too rough around the edges to her liking. 

But she takes his hand nonetheless with a tired nod. 

“Okay...” 

You help him lift her by seizing her hips and he wraps his arms around her solidly to not let her fall. He feels her tiny arms wrap around his solid neck and her face lays on his shoulder, she hugs him like she would a plushie. You both stand back up and he heads toward the bridge door with the most precious package ever in his arms. 

“Junior Captain, I leave you the bridge for now.” He orders, crossing the bridge door. 

He doesn’t say a thing but he feels silent tears starting to wet his collar and shoulder. Poor little one... 

“Do not cry Che’ri, you did a really good job today.” Your voice rises out of nowhere. 

Samakro stops dead in his tracks, realizing you are following him. 

“Why are you here?” He demands, “I did not authorize you to leave your post.” 

You tap your chrono at your wrist with a grin. 

“My shift just ended.”  

He sniffs. 

“Then go eat and rest. I am taking care of this.” 

“Oh, so you know where her nightclothes are and where she puts her favorite plushie?” You ask with a surprised but gentle expression. 

He considers you in silence for several seconds. Did you ever give a bad look to someone once in your life he caught himself wondering. 

“Because you do, perhaps?” 

You snigger and enjoin him to follow you. 

“This way, Mid-Captain.” 

You walk beside each other, Samakro with his usual gruff demeanor and you a silent confident smile. You turn to look at him and your smile stretches more. 

“What is it, Officer (Y/n)’(F/n)?” He inquires, looking straight ahead. 

Usually, he hates being ogled like that, but this is not the effect your gaze has on him. 

Instead, he feels... Shy? Unconfident? 

Why is that? 

He is surely a little sick... 

“Nothing.” You shake your head softly, “Or rather, yes: Do you have kids Captain Samakro?” 

He feels his eyes rounding up at that question. What... What made you think it was appropriate to ask such a thing?! 

“No, I do not. I am not married.” He recovers the control of his expression. 

“Oh really? Paternity looks really good on you! You always look so... Moody but watching you taking care of Che’ri shines a new light on you.” 

He side-eyes you, looking for mockery on your face. But your red eyes shimmer with a gentle warmth and your grin is soft.  

“Although...” You take a step closer and lower your voice like you are about to share a secret, “After that scene, you may not remain unmarried for long...” 

This time he fully turns his head toward you, with an indignant expression. What got over you? 

“Do not look so shocked, Captain. What is truly shocking is that you are still single!” You raise an eyebrow with a know-it-all expression. 

“And in what way is it shocking exactly?” He demands with a haughty voice. 

“Now come on... The gruff big man with a secret heart of gold! It’s a classic.” 

“It’s a cliche!” He corrects, “And we are not in a holo.” 

“But you look like you come straight out of one!” You keep going, “You could have done modeling or acting with such a face! Oh, all the broken hearts you would have left in your trail...” 

Samakro reassures his grip on Che’ri’s body to put on a front, but inside he feels turmoil.  

Why are you complimenting him so much out of nowhere? Why would you... 

Oh for fucks sake...  

Politics. 

He sighs internally, really he can’t escape politics wherever he goes! Now it has to walk next to him in the corridors of the Springhawk... 

He is about to open his mouth to shut you down for the rest of the day when an ungodly sound resonates in the corridor. You both look at Che’ri, who seems to bury her face harder in the crook of his neck. 

“It wasn’t me...” Samakro hears her muffled little voice. 

“Oh, Che’ri...” You put your hand on her back to caress it gently, “It’s okay, dear. Wait, I think I have something in my pockets.” 

You search your pockets until you take out a cereal bar that you give to the skywalker. She eagerly takes it, opens the package, and bites into it immediately. Samakro observes the little girl’s expression relaxing as she eats the treat. 

“Good thinking Officer.” He nods to you, “You seem to have experience with children. I imagine you have one?” He throws back the question at you, see how you like it. 

“Oh no.” You chuckle, “I am unmarried too.” 

“Really?  A motherly woman like you did not find a man to wed?” He mocks playfully, raising a haughty eyebrow at you. 

But... 

For some unknown reason 

He is relieved to learn you are single. 

“Alas, I did not!” You laugh, unbothered, “All my other partners were rather immature, not husband nor father materials... Contrary to you, Captain.” 

He stops again. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Only that your time of celibacy might be more short-lived than you expect.” You grin, “People talk to me, sir. You are quite popular.” 

Great... a fat lot of good that does him! 

“I am here to serve the Ascendancy, Officer! Not to find a wife!” He clarifies harshly. 

Which prompts your grin to grow larger again. 

“This is exactly what Fleet Admiral Bak’if  said before finding a wife in his crew!”  

“I am not Fleet Admiral Ba’kif.” 

“True, but you might be our next Fleet Admiral!” You theorize, “You have all that is needed for the job: Courage, a cunning attitude, great tactical abilities, charisma-” 

“Drop the compliments.” He cuts you short, at the end of his patience, “What do you really want?” 

You consider him, mute for the first time. 

He gauges you back. If you play politics, you are way too upfront about it! Complimenting someone so much is so amateurish... 

But  

That is not what makes his blood boil he realizes. 

What makes it boil is that you may compliment him for a hidden goal and not because you truly mean it.  

He should not care. 

But the thought that all your words might be false in your head... Stabs his heart. 

He mentally shakes his head. Why does he even care what you think in the first place? 

... 

Because you are a great officer, with a lot of good qualities. One of those that are too rare. He met plenty of good officers, but rarely great ones. And seeing one playing the political game so badly, risking getting caught and destroying their own career like that is disheartening. 

Yes 

This is surely why he feels like that.. 

No possible other reason! 

You squint at him, your soft expression gone to leave the place to a more... thoughtful one. 

And to his surprise. 

You start giggling. 

You let out a breathy laugh before hiding your growing elated smile behind your hand, your red eyes shimmering like glitter and pure light. The notes of your laugh are like none other, they rise high, where the angels are. They are like a song to his ears, a delicious melody he never heard before but he feels like he has known all his life. 

Are you... Mocking him? 

Usually, he would use his Captain’s voice and shut you down harshly, disciplining you into obedience and teaching you respect for your superior.  But he feels his legs melting into jello and his heart picks up pace in some sort of panic he cannot explain. 

Why do you have such effects on him? 

“What did I say?” He finally demands, trying to sound intimidating. 

Not really succeeding. 

You take a step closer and your hand travels from his shoulder to his hand and you intertwine your fingers.  

And for some reason 

He lets you do it. 

Samakro isn’t used to small physical acts of affection. He collects partners to get his release and then they both go their merry way. He knows why he is seeking them out and they know why they accept him in their sheets, they do the deed and never speak ever again. 

It is simple and effective. 

But somehow. 

The simple act of holding your soft hand puts him in turmoil even his most kinky partners never managed to do! 

He feels his heart accelerating and his breath getting more shallow. 

This... is not an act of lust and primal carnal desire.  

But of tenderness and affection, such simple fondness and adoration.  

He should rip his hand out of your grip, he knows he should. 

But it is beyond him. 

He feels more naked than he ever has in his entire life, making his stomach twist and a strange warm sensation spread in his stomach. 

Making him feel... fluffy. 

You gently raise on your tip toe and very slowly, very gently, kiss his cheek. 

It is short. 

It is chaste. 

It is sweet. 

It is utterly devastating. 

He audibly gasp despite his best effort at the touch of your soft lips. 

Wh... Why do you make him feel like this? 

He turns his gaze to you, unsure, to discover you looking at him with pure, raw adoration in your burning gaze. 

“Let’s put Che’ri to bed, and then we will talk over a cup of caccoleaf. I will explain everything.” 

And you boop his nose with the most mischievous grin he ever saw. 

“What do you say, Mid-Captain?” You tilt your head. 

“All... All right.” He finally gulps, his throat dries like the desert. 

For some reason 

Sharing a cup of caccoleaf cup with you is the most thrilling proposition anyone ever gave him. And he had numerous proposition. 

You squeeze his hand gently in yours, your soft confident smile on your face, looking sure of yourself, you guide him yourself in the corridor. 

And for Samakro for whom getting power and obedience from his crew was his goal... 

He thinks that following someone’s else lead might not be that bad after all... 

Especially yours. 

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin@ineedazeezee @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @obbicrystaleo @germie2037 @leo4242564@davesrightshoe @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni 

[chiaraswritings]

No Going Back

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or their settings. This is certainly not canon.

Warnings & Topics: Slight angst, fluff, cursing, unhappy relationship, bride leaving wedding, fem x fem relationship. 18+.

Word Count: 2K words

Summary: (fem!Reader x Natasha Romanoff) fem!Reader is about to be married to a man she doesn't love, but her crush and best friend, Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow), rescues her just in time.

Author's Note: Okay, let's maybe not run away from our weddings in real life, that's pretty traumatic to the person waiting at the altar. Still, it's romantic to fantasize about, especially when it's the confident Black Widow whisking you away. Thank you for all your support. I hope you enjoy.

What do you do when the moment you've thought about your entire life happens? How do you manage it? How do you stay calm? What if it's something you don't even want?

My mind was racing, my hands were shaking. I accidentally smeared my lip stain and nearly dropped the open tube on the white dress. The itchy heirloom dress that I didn't want to wear. It was my mother's, grandmother's, aunt's, cousin's. It was stiff, the sleeves puffed out, and pearls had been beaded across most of the seams. The poor dress had been tweaked and pinned and let out many times and looked seconds away from falling into pieces on the floor. And yet there I was, sitting in front of the church's vanity with the chipped paint, getting ready to marry the perfect man.

The perfect man. To be fair, he was perfect. His eyes were kind and his hands were gentle. I'd never heard him utter a sharp word. He was the kind of man that made women melt in the street. The kind of man my mother would practically force upon me.

I thought of all the people in my life I'd ever loved, my mind reviewing them like flipping through a catalog. Men with shiny smiles and sweet words, it was nothing new. And yet, there was someone that stood out. Someone who was drastically different from the others.

My mind settled on her. The person who knew my deepest, darkest secrets and my most painful scars. We'd met when she started coming to the café I used to work at a few years ago, collecting data on a barista there, yes, but after the case was closed she kept coming back, asking me to make me my own favorite drink every time. She hated the drink, I could tell, because she never finished it. She would linger at the counter for a few minutes, and if there wasn't a line I'd chat with her. Then she'd leave in a rush, "forgetting" the drink she had ordered.

Now, we were closer than "beers in a six pack", as she would say. She knew my favorite ways to be touched, that spot on my neck that made me tremble when she "accidentally" brushed her fingers against it. I didn't remember when I fell in love with her, or when the flirty remarks or brushes of hands against thighs began. All I remembered is how I wished it was her I was walking down the aisle to.

I let my imagination float away, I didn't notice my hands stopped shaking. I closed my eyes and imagined I was marrying Natasha in a few minutes instead of the man my mother introduced me to. I envisioned myself in a dress that I picked out myself, made of lace and tulle, floating down the aisle to her, taking her hands in mine and telling her how much I wanted to love her for the rest of my life. I wanted to tell her that from the first time I saw her, I knew that she was the person I'd fall in love with deeper than the universe's depths. Maybe in ten years we'd curl up together and thumb through a dusty album full of our wedding pictures, and read our vows to each other again in gentle whispers in between kisses.

And yet, there was barely any chance of that happening. We had never admitted any kinds of feelings to each other, though our body language displayed romantic tension to anyone who looked hard enough. To everyone who wasn't looking, she was my best friend who I spent more time with than anyone. To me, she was so much more than that. But then a man came into my life. A whirlwind romance later, he had popped the question in front of both our families. And now Nat was my maid of honor instead of my bride. Or was. She had called me last night, telling me she'd been called in for an attack in Manhattan. That she couldn't come. Maybe it was for the best, it was so painful seeing her now. Her beautiful face, her glowing hair, that smirk that made my stomach flutter.

Suddenly, all my thoughts were snapped away from me. I turned my head as the door slowly opened. It was my groom. I looked up, my eyes still hazy from daydreams and realities. "You're not supposed to see me, it's bad luck."

"I'll see you in a minute anyways," he answered, fully stepping into the church's bridal room, his black suit looking out of place among the pink and white surrounding us.

I tried to give him the best smile I could. I had only finished applying lip stain to my top lip, making my grimace look slightly disturbing. Quickly, I turned back to the mirror to finish. "I suppose so."

His hands ran up my back from behind me. The unwelcome touch made my back straighten. He stroked my shoulders before extending his hand to grasp mine, which I hesitantly accepted. "I'm so excited to marry you."

"Mhmm, I'm… I'm sure."

He didn't seem to catch onto the strain in my tone, but instead pressed a kiss to my forehead. "I'd better go before one of our mothers catches me in here."

"Yeah, you'd better." Watching him exit, I rubbed at the spot he had kissed me, trying to brush away the feeling.

As wonderful of a man he was, his touch made my stomach coil. I felt... dirty after his displays of affection. Every time I had tried to tell my mother, or my friends, or anyone else, I got the exact same response. "He's perfect for you, what are you talking about? I'm so jealous of you, you're so lucky!"

"Then why don't you marry him," I'd mutter under my breath whenever I heard the comment. Yes, he was perfect. Just… perfect for someone who loved him. He deserved someone who loved him. That person wasn't me. I wished I could tell him.

But still, here I was, under my family's watchful eye, about to swear away my life to him in a single day. How is that possible? How is someone able to pledge themself to someone they don't even love in a matter of minutes? Just because everyone else likes the way they look together?

Someone else knocked, scaring away tears that threatened to spill over my mascara-lined eyes. It was probably my new maid of honor, bringing me my bouquet of lilies. "Come in, I'm… I'm almost ready."

But it wasn't the bridesmaid I had expected. It was Nat, the woman I wished I had gotten the opportunity to love, just for a little while. She didn't have flowers, and she didn't look happy. She was wearing the Black Widow suit, and I could see the dark circles under her eyes clearly.

"(Y/N), why are you doing this? You can't be serious." Long strides brought her to my side in a matter of moments.

"Why wouldn't I be doing this? I'm getting married to a great guy, it's not rocket science." I turned back to the mirror to keep the lump in my throat from rising.

"You're right, it's not rocket science. It's deeper than that." She grabbed my arm and I looked up at her. Her eyes shot right into mine like piercing bullets. "You're marrying someone you don't even love and you know it."

"What makes you an expert on who I love?" I didn't mean to snap, but my voice was cross. "You're not even supposed to be here, what happened to Manhattan?"

"I didn't go, okay?!" Her voice rose, and she hadn't stopped looking into my eyes in that violent way. "I had to come here and tell you what a mistake you're making! I was praying for months that you were going to call me one day and say 'just kidding, it was a prank', but you never did. And now I have to see you marry that… that… that!"

"That is going to be my husband, and I don't see why you hate him so much all of a sudden! I thought you supported my decisions."

"I do… when it's not a stupid decision."

I rolled my eyes at her. "So what the hell makes this a stupid decision? You're not a love expert, so stay out of it. You're ruining my wedding day."

"It was ruined from the start. You shouldn't be marrying someone you don't love."

Returning the statement with a glare, I rose to my feet. "And who do I love, Natasha?"

Before I could process what was happening, she suddenly pulled me closer, her lips crashing against mine in the most passionate kiss I'd ever felt in my life. Her hands grabbed my hips to pull my body to hers as I returned the kiss. It wasn't lustful, it wasn't sexual, it just said everything her words couldn't. When she pulled away from me and looked into my eyes again, I could see… relief. Gone were the angry arrows aiming at me.

She reached up to stroke my neck, her thumb running against that one spot. "Get out of that fucking hideous dress and meet me in the car outside. Let me… just let me give you what you deserve."

Natasha disappeared out of the bridal room before I could even register what she had said or done. The colors of the walls and dresses surrounding me melted into a pool of watery color as I pressed my fingertips to my lips. My heart was in my throat, my stomach was in a knot… but… I liked it. I didn't want this feeling to end.

"(Y/N)? Here are your flowers, it's time." A bridesmaid, one of my mother's friends, poked her head into the room and set my bouquet on the vanity in front of me. "Aren't you excited?"

"Oh… yeah… excited." I picked up the flowers cautiously, as if they were a snake about to lash out.

"Gosh, you look like you're about to bawl. I know you're happy but don't ruin your makeup, you have to look fresh for your husband. No going back now!" She too disappeared out of the room before returning with a funny look on her face. "I think I just saw an Avenger in the hall, maybe I had too much punch."

"You probably did have too much punch." I pressed my fingers to my lips again as the bridesmaid bustled out of the room. I could hear the organ music begin to play, I knew the wedding ceremony was about to begin. And I knew what I had to do, for everyone's sake.

…

Sunlight kissed my shoulders and nose as I slipped out the church kitchen's back door. I was wearing the same jeans and shirt I had shown up in. My hair was down, flowing, free of the pins and pearly headpiece that had been twisted into it earlier. I carried two things, the bouquet of lilies tucked under my arm, and in my hands, a large box that contained a lemon-vanilla bean cake that had been meant for the reception. They were mine, I paid for them, and now I was going to share them with someone I actually cared about.

I didn't hesitate to slide into the passenger seat of the black Corvette, next to my new adventure in life. I placed the box next to my feet before turning to her, unable to keep the smile off my face. "Sorry about that, I couldn't unbutton the last buttons."

"I should've stuck around to help you, but I didn't really want anyone to see me." Nat started the car before turning her head and leaning in for a kiss as deep and meaningful as the one we had shared inside. She pulled away, but only just, our noses brushing against each other and our lips inches apart. I opened my eyes to stare into hers before she spoke again. "You really should marry someone you love, (Y/N)."

"Did you just propose to me or…?" The smile I couldn't hide grew when she laughed and put the car into reverse. As we drove out of the parking lot, I lifted the bouquet to my nose and nuzzled one of the roses. No going back.

[tobbotobbs]

Yandere DBH RK800 Connor x male (deviant or human) reader

Connors mission is to find and obtain the reader, a deviant/human on the run. However when searching the house he finds reader hiding and doesn’t warn Hank. Instead he sneaks the reader out and takes him for himself. He was just such a pretty model/boy that he had to take him home for himself.

Maybe he imbeds a chip into the reader to know where he is at all times?

Either human or deviant reader, just make Yandere Conner please and thanks.

Never wrote yandere stuff before so I hope this is okay :(

It was dark outside when M/n finally found an abandoned house where he could rest and hide for now. He had been running from the police and the dogs for what seemed like an eternity. And the fact that they were shooting after him as well, because he apperiantly couldn't feel pain and was just scrap metal with a voice, did not really made the running easier. He had to dodge thise bullets because he, in fact, did feel everytime something punctured his model. He in fact had feelings. Which was the start of all his problems actually. He had started to show some interest in his Mistress, Alina, which led her to question him what was happening and if his database was broken or needed a new update. Of course he declined and actually told her, as stupid as he was, that he had those feelings in him. They just suddenly started to appear someday and since a few days he broke through his data wall and finally acted on his own completely. After hearing her bodyguard android telling her all this, Alina of course chose to be careful and tell the android company about this situation she was in. And in no time they came and wanted to get rid of M/n. It was devastating, he had thought Alina felt something for him as well. The way she always made sure he was all cleaned up, had enough power or would be in good condition after a hard day of keeping creeps away from her on festivals or meetings. Oh, how naive the android had been. Thinking back to all this, he really shouldn't have been surprised. As long as he had no boiling blood, a beating heart and the life ik his eyes when being looked at he was worth nothing to noone.

A loud creek from one of the molting woodplanks took his interest. Slowly, M/n made his way over to the next room where he assumed the sound had come from. At closer inspection he found a few pigeons on the floor who just seemed to be sitting there and resting, just like he did. Smiling he went closer and sat down next to them, the animals not bothered by the androids appearance and deciding to just stay where they were seated, sharing the nice quietness of the room in the dark room which was slightly alighted by the moons presence outside. ,,You guys seem so peaceful...I wish I could just fly away as well. That must be a relieving feeling, go just...go", he whispered more to himself than the pigeons who only looked at him from the side in a weird manner. He only chuckled lightly. ,,Yeah...Yeah I must look a little mad right now I guess...", still talking to himself, M/n decided to call it a day and maybe dwell in the comfort of old memories on his database.

Meanwhile in the dpd, Hank Anderson and his Android partner Connor were sitting at their desks and waiting for something to come up so they could finally get away from Gavin and rk900 yelling at eachother in the office. It was literal hell for them. These idiots weren't even getting any punishment which made Hank more annoyed than he already was. It was just awful watching those two argue about some little inconvenience of their case when the real reason they've been so frustrated with eachother was in fact not the case but the sexual tension going on between them. Everyone saw it, even Connor who mostly didn't understand social clues and other things that had to do with human emotions. But really, for an Android that smart rk900 also seemed to not get it. And Gavin probably just felt too ashamed and proud to let the thought of him liking an Android slide. Poor guys, Hank thought to himself. He then proceeded to turn around in his seat and took a look at his partner who, instead of still looking at the arguing cops, stared at the wall, deep in thoughts. His little LED flickered between blue and yellow, showing that he was thinking or more like processing something which got the older man interested.

,,Connor, what's going on in that little head of yours?", he had asked smugly, already awaiting Connors dismissing reply that he actually had no real head and mind but just his servers to go through, though it seemed the Android was so deep in whatever he was doing, that he didn't even noticed Hanks question. ,,Hank, Connor! Come up here, I got a mission for you two!", the loud voice of their boss suddenly rang through the office which also bought Connor out of his processing procedure. The both of them stood up and quickly went up the stairs to the bureau of the captain of the dpd to see what he had for them. Seated in the bureau they waited for their orders. Which came quickly. A the Android of a higher ranked woman among society turned Deviant and was missed. He was classified as very dangerous because he was a bodyguard and still has weapons on him. And Hank and Connor needed to search for clues on where he was or best, find him right away and take him in. It seemed like a good and easy start into the operation, as they had already a clue on where he was last seen.

And easy it was, as it seemed. The Deviant hasn't left the area since yesterday and they just needed to check in which of all the abandoned buildings he was hiding. For that Hank and Connor decided to split up to cover more grounds. Connor, alone in an old factory building, fell into a spiral of thoughts. He was thinking about what exactly happened to the Android to suddenly turn Deviant. Captain didn't tell them any details because they needed to hurry things. He also wondered if he could ask the Deviant a few questions, personal ones, before they need to take him in and interrogate him. Perhaps he could befriend him as well to make things go easier. He threw that thought away as fast as it came. Androids don't make friends. That's what Deviants do. He was no Deviant. Suddenly he heard something. A little humming, coming from the room next to him. Slowly and carefully, Connor peaked around the corner. There, next to a lot of pigeons, the Deviant they were searching for stood and hummed a melody while dancing around a little, or more like jumping around. At the sight Connor forgot why they were here. This Deviant was dangerous? That sweet looking, humming and jumping Android in front of him? That couldn't be. He was too precious. He couldn't possibly hurt a fly now, could he? As Connor watched M/n for a while longer some confusing feelings made their way up into his system which caused to constantly show the words Software Instability in the right corner of his vision. He ignored those though. More focused on the heavenly creation in front of him. He wanted M/n. The feelings in his system were want and desire, he finally figured out.

He walked into the room, M/n still not noticing his presence as he was having fun humming and jumping around. Just as he was about to turn around, Connor grabbed the other Android from behind and held him still. He quickly searched for the deactivation button on the model to turn him off and when he did found it, he pressed it. M/n suddenly stood still and his LED blinked red for a few more seconds before it turned off. ,,I got you...now I just have to bring you home. Hopefully Hank won't notice I just left now...", Connor talked to himself as he pulled M/n into his arms and carried him away. His legs carried him to his apartment which he got while he worked in the dpd with Hank. He hadn't want to stay at the older man's home all the time so he got his own place. The way back to Connors place wasn't too long and nobody seemed to be out on the streets at this time of the day so he could easily take M/n with him. In his apartment he laid the h/c android down onto his couch and just looked at him for a little while. Then he got to work.

He searched up what to do in a situation like this and he came across some dark looking sites on the internet that told him to lock the person up, bondage them and keep them quiet somehow and be careful to not let them leave too many handprints over his place. He was confused at first but didn't look to much into it, humans were confusing to him anyways. He even got into a little discussion on one of those dark illegal site where one person recommended him, if he wanted to keep the person in control and know where they were at all times, he should put a tracker on them. That gave Connor a idea. He smiled to himself after he planned out what he would do to keep this Android, his Android, at his side. It was getting overwhelming, those feelings he had. The want grew and grew, he needed M/n at his side forever, somehow. He would do anything to accomplish that. He pulled a few arrangements over the next day, he had turned M/n's model on again which needed a little bit to restart after the abrupt deactivation, which gave him enough time to go and get the little chip he had bought online. When he came back from his little shopping spree, he had also rather impulsively bought a collar and a leash after walking along a pet store, he opened the door to his apartment slowly. The place was totally quiet, which made the Android think that M/n's model was still restarting.

Well he had thought wrong. Just when Connor rounded the cornor into the living room, the Deviant jumped at him. They both fell to the floor, Connors contents he had bought flew a few metres away thanks to the force of M/n crashing into him. ,,Who the fuck are you?! And why did you take me?!?!", the h/c Android asked, his voice shaking with anger as well as anxiety. Defensively, Connor held his hands up. ,,I'm Connor. I'm an Android, just like you. Well. Nearly like you. I saw you yesterday and...I took you. I have this feeling in me and it makes me crave for you since I saw you and now that I have you, we can live together! You don't have to worry about getting captured, tortured or even destroyed by humans! And you can jump around and hum how much you like here with me! You'll have such a kice life here with me, I promise!", he kind of maniacally smiled up at M/n. Everything he had said caught the ex bodyguard off guard. ,,Crave...me? What do you mean?", more anxious and confused now, M/n stood up and backed away from Connor a little. ,,You belong to me now M/n! I can and will give you everything yeah? This is your new home, trust me this is going to be perfect!", he stood up as well and walked closer to M/n. ,,I even got my little Deviant something~", it nearly sounded like Connor was purring those words as he grabbed the stuff from the floor. ,,Now, be good and let me put this around you yes? It will make you look so much better!", he exclaimed. His cold hands took the collar and the leash, opening it while putting it around M/n's neck, who was still shocked and couldn't really react or do anything. After it was put comfortably around the neck and closed, Connor clipped the leash onto a little hook at the frond of the collar and tugged slightly at it which made the Deviant fall forward a little and his mouth escaped a choked gasp at the sudden pressure around his throat, which turned a little white at the irritation.

Snickering, Connor tugged a little more until M/n was right in front of him. If he could breath, the other Android would've been able to feel it on his skin. ,,So good for me darling...now to my last little gift. God you look so obedient and good in this collar and leash! If I tugg you a little closer...like...this!", he pulled and M/n finally fell fully into his chest. That gave Connor the perfect position of putting the chip into back of M/n's head. ,,Darling stay still for a second. I've got to put something into you...for your safety yes? It could hurt a little but please, remember I love you and I am doing this so you'll be able to have a better life yes?", he sugar coated what he was about to do. Panicking about what was about to happen, M/n started to free himself from Connors grip, but the other had him perfectly captured between his arms. M/n felt one cold hand travel to the back of his head, where he pushed a little around before he found what he was looking for. A little plate of metal that wasn't really connected to the rest of the other parts. So he could pull it of, with force. Which he did. Agonizing pain went through the Deviants body. His eyes were opened wide while his mout let out an silently painful scream. If he could, he would fall unconscious. He wished he could fall unconscious. He didn't want to be here in the arms of some weird Android model that has gone mad. M/n didn't even care about the pain when the chip was put into his model. He just accepted it and afterwards, when the little plate was put onto it's place again, he didn't dare to look Connor in the eyes. He was scared, confused and stressed. He should've stayed with Mistress Alina, should've not told her how he felt. Oh what he would give to just be in her presence right now and get to speak a few words with her. He missed her. So much. It made him feel even worse, now that some creepy stranger took a liking on him and decided to creepy him and make him his. He didn't want that, all he wanted was to be left alone, to fly like the pigeons did.

So aorry this is actually so fucking bad I didn't know what to write exactly 'cause I've never written or really read any yandere stuff! I'm so sorry, hope you guys still kinda enjoyed it (:

[vibrantbirdy]

hi! i was hoping i could request a poe dameron x reader where he has a huge crush on the reader who works a small part of the resistance but he keeps making a fool of himself in front of them but the reader finds him cute anyways. thank u!!

Yes anon, thank you! This is such a cute request. I hope I've done it justice.

Requests for Character x Reader fics are currently open in my Asks. Please read the guidelines first before requesting.

-Birdy

Title: Crush Fandom: Star Wars: Skywalker Saga Genres: Sci-Fi; Romance; Fluff Setting: Sometime later on in the Force Awakens Characters: Poe Dameron; Reader Pairings: Poe Dameron x Reader Chapters: 1/1 (Complete) Warnings: None :) Perhaps extremely mild, fluffy, sexuality Word Count: 2805

Summary: You work for the Resistance at the Base on D'Qar. Wing Commander Poe Dameron has a crush on you and he's surprisingly awkward about it...

It's late, and you are walking the empty corridors of the Resistance Base on D'Qar. You like the base at this time of night. It's peaceful and your long trips between the various offices and briefing rooms and your own place of work, the records room, give you time to think.

You're making your final trip back to the records room for the night. In your hands is a box full of data sticks and holo chips. Every time there's a skirmish, a raid, or an offensive to plot against the First Order, Resistance Officers descend upon the archive, stripping it like locusts. They are looking for information, knowledge, maps, schematics anything that might help them understand the weaponry, tech, locations and terrain they might be up against.

You have tried to explain that if they really have to take records out of the records room, they really do need to bring them back. If this information gets lost, so too does the history of the Republic, the Resistance, the First Order and its Imperial predecessor, the Galactic Empire. No one listens. You don't mind that much. It is wartime after all.

So you spend your nights too-ing and fro-ing until you've gathered up all the records left abandoned in consoles and holo readers and on the tops of desks. You really have had to burn the candle at both ends recently and you think you know why. There are whispers spreading through the base that General Organa will soon need to launch an attack on the First Order's monstrous weapon on Starkiller base.

You take pride in what you do. It's not flying an X-Wing, but it's important.

Someone who does fly an X-Wing - and does it very well - is Wing Commander, Poe Dameron. But right now, he's scrabbling about on the floor with you, trying to salvage the precious hoard of information that went flying in a shower of little plastic bits when his droid barrelled into you from the opposite direction and sent the box flying from your hands.

"BB-8!" he exclaims, bending down to scoop up handfuls of data chips and throw them in the box he has righted for you, "C'mon buddy, how many times have I told you to watch where you're rolling!"

The little round ball of orange and white metal chitters indignantly. From your sitting position on the floor, you pause in your work to reach over and give BB-8 a reassuring pat on his semi-spherical head. The droid vibrates and makes a docile purring sound. You can't help the small laugh that escapes you. You've always thought he was the cutest little astromech around.

When you raise your eyes, Dameron is staring at you, slightly open mouthed. You're seen him around the base plenty of times, but this is the first time you've really looked at him up close. His handsome face is framed by a crop of brown curls and adorned with deep set eyes that are so dark they are almost black. Still, they sparkle like a night full of stars.

Wordlessly, Dameron reaches out a free hand to you and you take it as he pulls you back onto your feet. You pick up the box and he funnels the last of the data sticks balanced precariously in the crook of his elbow into the receptacle.

"So, how come I've not seen you around before?" He asks.

"Oh, I've been here," you laugh, "I think you've probably just been too busy to notice."

"Yeah, I'm busy, not blind..." he mutters, more to himself than to you, "Uh, I mean..."

He looks awkward and you cut him off to introduce yourself and save him from his unease. Still, you feel a pleasant blush creep into your cheeks at both his insinuation and the fact that appears to be slightly flustered in your presence.

"Poe," he responds, confidence returning with a dazzling smile that you are certain must get him into trouble.

"I know," you reply, allowing yourself to give him a cheeky smirk of your own.

"Do you always walk around the base this late at night?"

"Yes," you say simply, then, after a pause, you throw the question back at him, "Do you?"

"No," he chuckles wearily and rubs the back of his neck, "Couldn't sleep."

He does look tired. Upon closer inspection, there are dark circles under his eyes and a five o'clock shadow sits upon his well-defined jaw and creeps up towards his sharp cheekbones. There have been a lot of skirmishes with the First Order lately and a lot of good pilots have been lost, pilots under Dameron's command. You feel a flash of deep sympathy for him. You don't envy the responsibility he bears and it is clearly weighing heavy on him tonight.

"Well. Goodnight, Commander," you say after a lingering but not uncomfortable pause.

You hope he'll maybe get some rest tonight at least.

He nods at you and smiles softly.

"Goodnight."

BB-8 cheeps a farewell.

************************************************

In all the time you've been on D'Qar. You've never once seen Poe Dameron, ace pilot, in the records room. Yet here he is at your desk with BB-8 in tow.

"Hello Commander, what can I help you with today?"

"I..."

Poe draws the syllable out as he leans forward conspiratorially across the desk. He raps his knuckles on its cheap plast-cast surface. He's stalling for time. He's here to see you, you realise, and it sends a giddy little thrill through your body.

"...am here for some records," he finally says and you can tell he instantly regrets it.

He attempts to give you his trademark winning smile but it's really more of an embarrassed grimace. He looks away from you with a imperceptible shake of his head that sends a few of his rich, chocolate curls spilling across his forehead. He runs his hands through his hair, sweeping the dark tendrils back off his face.

You can see that he thinks he looks stupid. He's clearly not used to it, and you want to say something to make him feel better. You think it's sweet that he's come to see you.

Was he just passing, you wonder? Or did he plan it?

You never get the chance to ask. The sudden din of the pilot scramble alert swallows any potential words you might say whole. It is accompanied, as always, by the emergency lighting system which sets off flashing red pulses throughout the entire base.

Poe Dameron doesn't move. He's studying you intently with those endless eyes that are paradoxically both dark and luminescent.

"Uh. Commander?" You point upward to the nearest emergency light which is flashing just above your head.

Slowly, as if reluctant to tear himself away, his gaze leaves your face and follows your finger up to the ceiling.

"Right," he says, then starts and looks around wildly as if he is only just hearing the blaring alarm for the first time. "Right!"

He turns and sprints away from your desk at an alarming pace, BB-8 whizzing after him. He spins clumsily halfway down the room, momentum almost sending him barrelling into a row of desks where readers can, usually, study in relative peace and quiet. A haughty looking admin officer seated nearby rolls his eyes.

"I'll be back for those records!" Poe shouts back at you, as if it's the most important promise he's ever made.

It makes you laugh, and you hope to the Force he has the opportunity to do so as he and BB-8 disappear round the corner to prepare to take to the skies into some awful fray.

"Saved by the bell, huh?"

You jump, startled out of your reverie, and turn to see your colleague Marjane who has sidled up beside you. She's a gregarious, older lady with big heart and a preference for men half her age.

"That young man has never been awkward around a woman a day in his life," she says sagely, pointing to the spot where Poe had stood moments ago as if the outline of him were still tangible, "What spell did you use and can I have it?"

You grin and hold your hands up defensively.

"He's got a crush on you," she winks slyly and walks back to her desk.

**********************************************

The next time you see Poe Dameron it's milliseconds before he crashes into you at speed in the same corridor, on the same corner where BB-8 sent you sprawling only a few weeks earlier.

You've smacked your forehead right off his sharp, chiselled cheek bone and the two of you are are nursing your wounds either side of the corridor. You are resting your sore head against the nearest cool durasteel wall, and he is leaning his back against the opposite one, holding a palm to his face which is stricken with a comical expression of surprise.

BB-8, perhaps the most compassionate droid you've even known, rolls back and forth between you both, as if unsure of who needs the most of his sympathy.

When you finally feel like you can open your eyes again without seeing stars, you turn away from the wall and find that Poe has moved to stand directly in front of you. He's wearing a white tank top and lightweight cargo pants and he has clearly been running. His broad shoulders rise and fall from his interrupted physical exertion.

A lot of the pilots keep fit by jogging through the endless maze of corridors within the labyrinthine base during the heavy torrents of rain that occasionally lash the otherwise temperate D'Qar.

"Are you ok?" he asks, concerned, and he cups your face gently in his hands with exhilarating forwardness to examine the red mark that is blossoming on your forehead.

It's a surprisingly intimate gesture. You wonder if he can feel the heat growing in your cheeks, but his hands are already warm from exercise. You can feel the course pads of his finger tips exerting a reassuring pressure against your skin.

"Force, what a shiner, I didn't know my head was that hard!"

"You've got a good one coming in too," you say, snaking your hand up between the two of you to carefully press a finger against the clear point of impact on his cheek.

"Ow!" he breaks away dramatically and you both laugh. "I'm not sure we can blame the droid this time," you say.

BB-8 chirps and wobbles cheerfully on the floor.

"No, this one's on me. I mean you too, I guess. It takes two to uh...you know..."

"Collide in a corridor?"

"Yeah, that."

There's a stilted silence and you hope he might say something more, like, wanna hang out sometime? or I know this great place to watch the stars or let's go for a joyride in my X-Wing... but he doesn't.

"Well, I better ..." he makes a little jogging motion with his arms, "Sorry about the whole running and the crashing and the headache thing."

You smile, and try to hide the little twang of disappointment you feel.

"Of course," you say, "Good evening, Commander."

He taps two fingers off his forehead in a mock salute before jogging past you in the opposite direction from your way of travel.

BB-8 doesn't follow immediately, sitting at your feet for moment longer. You look down to see his dark, glassy photoreceptor fixed on you. You shrug at him and he gives you a consolatory whirring sound before rolling off to catch up with his master.

*************************************************

It's Poe's birthday and General Organa has given everyone strict orders to have a good time. The Resistance leadership are having to launch so many sorties against the First Order lately that she's had to place a complete ban on alcohol consumption lest the pilots have to enact an emergency scramble. This doesn't appear to have dampened the mood one iota and as you enter the hanger, the party is in full swing.

The whole base has turned out, as you'd expected. The hanger is packed with people chatting and dancing. Some of the engineers have obviously been hard at work wiring up whatever miscellaneous light sources they could find to hang rustic makeshift fairy lights from the durasteel beams and support columns. The upbeat music pulses through ancient, crackling speakers and is joined melodiously with people singing and raucous bursts of laughter.

It's a glorious feeling. Wartime hasn't been easy. You all need this.

Before you can even get yourself a drink or find your friends, someone takes your hand and leads you into the crowd of dancers. Your heart skips a beat as you realise it's Poe. He's a good dancer in that way some men are - all bent knees and elbows, but somehow able to make it rhythmical. You are grinning at each other like idiots, mirroring your energies, lost in the music.

Finally, you think.

Then, without warning, somebody jostles past you and grabs Poe around the waist. Then someone else comes. And another. And another. You soon realise it's members of his fighter squadron as they cart him away from you through the hangar and outside onto the landing grounds.

You laugh as you are swept along in the stampede of excitement that follows. Of course, you remember. It's tradition amongst the flyers to soak the birthday boy or girl with the emergency fire hoses.

Finn, the ex-Stormtrooper who has recently joined the Resistance, has the courtesy to give you an apologetic smile as he races past you to join in on the action. As a close friend of Poe, you have a suspicion that he is probably more aware than the others of the moment they have just interrupted. You don't mind. Not really.

Once outside underneath D'Qar's clear night's sky, Poe barely has the chance to ready himself when four powerful jets of water are turned on him. He jumps this way and that in a futile attempt to avoid the deluge. Any time it looks like he might escape, someone grabs him and spins him around so that he redirected back to his watery fate. He is wet through in seconds.

The gigantic, gruff but beloved Second Engineer, Toko, notices BB-8 by his feet and he picks up the little droid who screeches in alarm. Poe shouts over the noise, pointing at the big man with one hand as he skips around, trying to deflect a myriad of water blasts to his face and body.

"Not my droid! NOT MY DROID!"

Everyone laughs. The Engineer, only teasing, sets the wriggling mechanical ball down gently and gives him a pat on the head.

Finally, the hoses are turned off and Poe's squad rush towards him cheering and shouting. He shakes himself violently and flicks his dripping hands over his nearest assailants. His flyers drag him to the ground and they all collapse on top of him in a soggy, giddy heap.

*************************************************

There has been a skirmish with the First Order and the atmosphere on the base has been tense all day. The sun is setting on D'Qar and finally, finally, the fighter squadrons are retuning.

You count the X-Wings as they land, your heart racing. They're all here, you realise. Every single one of them has come back. It's so rare these days.

Your friend, Maya, claps you on the shoulder as she speeds past to greet her twin sister, Selina, the two young women colliding into a rough embrace as the latter leaps out of her X-Wing.

You are overcome with emotion and you clasp your hands over your mouth and fold in the middle. With a disbelieving laugh you put your hands on your knees and push yourself upright slowly.

Then, you are looking for him. For Poe. Your eyes scan the hanger and the landing pads beyond, a sea of orange flight suits. There. In the midst of the joyous commotion, there he is. He's checking on his flyers, slapping them on their backs, giving and receiving hugs, grasping arms tightly with comrades in relief and celebration.

As if he senses that you are looking for him, he locks eyes with you across the hanger. With a purposeful gait, he strides over until he's so close you can feel the victorious energy vibrating off his body.

He surveys your face intently with those deep pools of midnight, flicking his gaze between your lips and your eyes. He's trying to suppress a smirk, a muscle working in his cheek.

"I think I'd like to see you more often," he finally says.

It comes out funny, almost like an order, but it's the most direct he's ever been. Without hesitation, you grab him by the lapels of his orange flight suit and pull him into a deep kiss.

Fuelled by adrenaline and the heady jubilation of the moment, Poe drops his helmet, and without breaking your embrace, he circles one hand around your waist, and uses the other to support the nape of your neck. Then, he dips you almost parallel to the ground as you kiss like a scene from a romance holo.

A ripple of cheers and good natured laughter passes around the hanger as Poe sets you, breathless, back on your feet.

A dashing grin spreads wide across his handsome face.

"I'd like that too," you say as you lean in for another long awaited kiss.

[vodika-vibes]

You and Me - A Gryffin Industries Story

Summary: As one of the many aides to the Supreme Chancellor, you’re more aware than most at the sheer depth of his corruption. But when you hear something you’re not supposed to, the Chancellor orders your death at the hands of his personal assassins. And you know that if you get to Gryffin Industries you’ll be home free. You just have to get there first.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Jesse x Reader

Word Count: 1803

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Someone shoved me into sad Jesse hours so I decided to write this instead of one of the many, many requests that I have sitting in my inbox.

You press your hand against your chest, trying to settle your racing heart as you press your back against the cold wall behind you.

You’re in trouble.

So much trouble.

You duck behind a dumpster as the heavy footsteps of the men who are chasing you approach. You clamp your hand over your mouth and nose and hope, pray, that it’s enough. That this will hide you well enough that you’ll have a moment to think.

The heavy footsteps stop, and for a moment, one terrifying, heart stopping moment, you think you're out of luck. That his assassins found you. And then you hear a voice, deep and familiar in the way that all clone voices are, “She’s not here. Set up a perimeter around the Jedi Temple. She can’t be allowed to reach them.”

And then the heavy boots are running off and you slump against the wall.

Well. There goes your original plan.

As one of the many aides to Chancellor Palpatine, you’re more aware than most about just how corrupt he is. And while it bothered you, not having enough money to eat bothered you more, so you kept your peace.

Your logic was that people have to see what he’s doing, and they’re letting him…so maybe this is what they all wanted.

And then you stumbled on a meeting between Palpatine and Dooku.

A meeting where something you’ve long suspected, that the war was created by Palpatine to help him stay in power, was confirmed.

You spent the following week downloading all of the information, all of the evidence that you could. And there was a lot. 

Too much to store on a single data chip. Too much for even ten data chips.

You unfold your hands around the sharp edges of the datacron sitting in your hands. All of the evidence you’ve found, years worth of it, going back to when the Chancellor was still a Senator, is sitting in this innocent little cube.

And, until such time you’re able to get it into the hands of someone who can help, it’s about as useful as a doorstop.

You slide down the wall until you’re sitting on the dirty ground, and you press the datacron against your forehead, “Now what do I do?” You whisper, “Where do I go…where can I go?”

Going to the Jedi Temple is just asking for trouble. His assassins will never let you get close enough to the temple to get the information to them. And Jedi don’t just wander around Coruscant.

Maybe you’d be able to find a Jedi at the Senate, but going there is just as much of a death sentence as going to the temple.

Your mind races, but you come up with nothing. No ideas. No anything.

Slowly, with a shaking hand, you pull your comm from your pocket.

It’s dumb. Dumb and foolish and risky. But…maybe, if you’re quick, and maybe, if the assassins haven’t pinged your comm yet, maybe you can get some advice.

You open your contact list, and scroll down until you find the number you're looking for.

Jesse.

Arc Trooper Jesse. Formerly of the 501st and currently employed by Gryffin Industries.

More importantly, though, he’s your closest friend, and maybe possibly boyfriend, and someone you trust and depend on whole-heartedly.

You press the button to connect your devices, and pray that he’ll actually answer.

The comm rings once, twice, three times…and then the call connects, “Mesh’la? It’s not like you to call during the workday.”

His voice is so comforting that you kind of want to cry, “Jess-I’m in trouble.”

You hear him walking for a moment, “What kind of trouble?”

“The…um…assassins are chasing me and trying to kill me kind of trouble.”

“What?! What do you mean assassins-”

“Jesse, I can’t get to the temple. Where…where do I go? What should I do?”

“Come to me. I’ll protect you.”

A sob falls from your lips, “Jesse, there’s an entire city between where I am and Gryffin Industries. I’ll never make it.”

“Yes. You will.” Jesse promises, “Because I’m going to have Rex order every vod who works with me out to the streets.”

“...Jesse-”

“All you have to do, mesh’la, is find a vod dressed in black and teal. And they’ll get you safe. Stay in open spaces and crowds if you can.”

“I can do that.”

“And, cyare, toss your comm. I’ll see you when you get here.”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll see you then.”

The connection cuts sooner than you would have preferred, and you suddenly feel very, very alone. But, Jesse promised that you were going to be okay, that he would help. You just have to trust him.

So you take a deep breath and toss your comm into the dumpster, and then you scramble to your feet and exit the alley at the other end, slipping into the crowd of weekend shoppers.

You keep your head down, the datacron hidden in the pocket of your sweatshirt, as you weave through the crowds. Hopefully, you look like you’re just in a rush, rather than that you’re running.

Hopefully.

Anxiety lances through you when you catch a glimpse of the black clad men that mark Palpatine’s assassins, but you’re careful not to run. Running would catch their attention, right?

It takes almost twenty agonizing minutes before you see the first man clad in the black and teal of Gryffin Industries. And then another, and another. 

Jesse was right, he really did have his brothers sent out in force.

Carefully, you make a winding path towards one of Jesse’s brothers, and stop in front of one of the men. He ducks his head to look at you, while another man moves to shield you from view. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be okay when I’m out of this mess.” You reply, your voice shaking.

“Don’t worry. Jesse asked us to keep you safe, and we will.” 

And it’s only then that you realize that these two men are Echo and Fives. Jesse’s brothers from the same battalion as him. And, more importantly, a pair of ARC Troopers, just like him.

“Is Jesse here?”

“He’s waiting at Gryffin Industries.” Fives explains, “We have a speeder. Keep your head down. Echo-”

“I see them.” Echo replies, “They haven’t seen her yet. Though they seem to be doing their best to not be seen at all.”

The twins guide you to the speeder, and make sure that you get into the back. The windows have been darkened to the point where no one can see through them.

Echo and Fives climb into the front of the speeder, and they zoom off. You watch through the window as the other men from Gryffin Industries weave through the crowd, seemingly focused on the men who are part of Palpatine’s assassination squad.

And then the Speeder zips high above the market and you’re not able to see anything anymore. 

The trip to Gryffin Tower is a lot faster than it took for them to arrive at the market to begin with, although, you’re willing to admit that you were probably wound so tightly, that the time was the same. 

Fives pulls the speeder into the garage and brings it to a stop, and your door is flung open almost immediately by the man pacing anxiously near the door. 

Jesse stoops to peer into the speeder, his dark eyes scanning your face for any injuries, “Mesh’la,” his sighs out the familiar pet name, “Are you okay?”

You smile weakly, “They didn’t hurt me. Just…scared me, is all.”

He reaches into the speeder to help you out, and immediately folds you into a tight hug, though he casts his gaze towards his brothers, “The assassins?”

“I counted five near the market alone,” Echo admits as he pulls his helmet off, “The others are keeping count of them, Rex’s orders.”

“Well, we’ll figure out where these assassins came from, and then you can go back to work-” Jesse says as he looks down at you.

“...I can’t go back to the senate, Jesse.” You say blankly, “Those assassins belong to Palpatine.”

The three men fall silent, and then Jesse places his hands on your shoulders and he lightly pushes you away, “Cyare, why were you being hunted by assassins?”

You nervously lick your lips, “Well…I heard a conversation I shouldn’t have.” You admit, and then you pull the datacron out of your pocket, “And I copied all of the evidence of Palpatine’s wrongdoing over the last decade.”

Three pairs of eyes lock on the faintly glowing device, and then focus on your face, “Cyare-”

“I wanted to get it to the Jedi. But…” You stick the datacron back in your pocket, “Well, I can’t get there.”

“You are sure that the assassins belong to Palpatine?” You jump at the unfamiliar voice, and then peer around Jesse at the older man walking towards you, “Absolutely positive?”

You nod slowly, “I am. That evidence is on here too.”

The man smiles, “My name is Dre Gryffin, this is my company.” He explains, “And I would very much like to see that evidence.”

“Um…”

“I assure you, we have been working against Palpatine since the start of the war.” Mister Gryffin says quietly, “This evidence will be very helpful.” He holds out his hand for the datacron, and slowly, hesitantly, you place the cube into his hand. “Thank you.”

“She can’t go home-” Jesse says as he lightly squeezes your shoulder.

“No. Of course not. She’ll remain here.” Mister Gryffin replies, “Can you handle things, Jesse?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Echo, Fives. With me, please.”

The twins trail after the older man, and you look up at Jesse, “So…what now?”

“You’ll move in with me.” Jesse replies, “And you’ll be safe, I promise.”

You lean back into him, “I always feel safe when I’m with you, Jesse.” You reply.

“Good.” He lightly kisses the top of your head and then pushes you back so he’s able to brush his lips against yours, “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

“Sorry.”

He squeezes your shoulders one more time, and then pulls away to take your hand with his, and he threads his fingers with yours. “You’re forgiven. Thank you for calling me when you realized that you were in danger.”

“I panicked, or I would have called you sooner.” You admit sheepishly.

Jesse sighs and brings your joined hands to his lips, where he presses a light kiss to your fingers, “That’s alright. We’ll let everyone else handle things from now on. No more running from assassins for you, love.”

“I can get behind that.” You reply as the anxious tension, finally, drops from your body and you lean against his side.

Maybe this will make up for all those months of keeping silent. Maybe.

[yawnzbf]

COMPETITION

RAFAYEL X GN READER (YOU PRNS USED)

,,rafayel and you are fighting for the same position in the company, as a test and to measure your capabilities, you both are assigned to work on a project together whose results will decide your and Rafayel's fate in the company

,,kind of different from my other fics, this is very plot oriented, there is only one scene with actual physical contact, enemies to tolerable colleagues to may be smth? Fluff!!

,,honestly just read, it's cute, yes the banner needed some re touches but a bitch is tired yk ?

The morning sunlight spilled into the office, highlighting the tension in the air as you and Rafayel both eyed each other warily. The receptionist informed you that the decision for the job would be made by the end of the day, and until then, you were stuck together like mismatched puzzle pieces working on a project regarding the ‘HUNTERS’- company’s most recent client.

You scowled at Rafayel, who shot you a smug grin. "wow not even a good luck before we start? Who knew you were such a hard-hearted person”

Rolling your eyes, you shot back, "I'd say 'good luck,' but I'm not sure even luck can help you."

As you begrudgingly settled into your designated workspace, his remarks never ceased to stop. Rafayel couldn't resist making snarky comments about your choice of music, your slow typing speed, the way your glasses hung low on your nose bridge going on and on.

“seriously, I don’t want to hear that from someone who eats kale chips for breakfast,” you finally retaliated, eyes narrowed at him as his hand stopped mid-way on the way to his mouth with the said chip in his hand.

“hey! They’re a fine delicacy unlike your cereal you call breakfast,” he retorted defensively.

There was no use in arguing with this man, you concluded. Instead of collaborating seamlessly, you found yourselves arguing over the best approach, each trying to outshine the other. After countless ideas and rejections, somehow finding a common ground, and you both finalized an outline for the project to follow.

During the break, you both ended up in the office kitchen, glaring at each other across the counter. Rafayel smirked, holding up a bag of kale chips.

"Care for some gourmet snacking, Y/N?"

You scoffed, grabbing a chocolate bar from the shelf. "I'll stick to something edible, thanks."

The end of the break, marked the beginning of the actual start of the project which needed data transferring, spreadsheet making, logo finalizing and what not.

Rafayel leaned over, peering at your spreadsheet. "Are you sure this is organized? It looks like a maze in there."

You shot him a glance. "At least my maze has a treasure at the end, unlike yours, which seems to lead to nowhere."

He chuckled, fingers tapping on the keyboard. "You may have a point. Maybe I'll take a detour through your maze and find that treasure."

You sighed at the remark. “Can you complete the ppt first? It looks like a unicorn came and puked all over it,”

“shut up,”

“fine, but don’t blame me when you’re kicked out of the office,” you say, resuming your work.

At the comment, rafayel turned back around with a pout, tapping and typing away working on the slides once again. As Rafayel leaned back, he ran a hand through his hair, loosening the carefully styled strands. His pout transformed into a satisfied smirk as he glanced at the revised slides.

"There you go, a toned-down unicorn vomit, just for you."

You pretended to inspect it carefully, "thank you for your kind cooperation, your majesty,”

Rafayel chuckled at your mock formality. "You're welcome, my dear subject. It's not every day one gets the honour of witnessing such an act of kindness."

At one point, Rafayel suggested a bold idea for the project, to which you raised an eyebrow. "Oh, because nothing says 'professionalism' like turning our client's logo into a dancing holographic cat. Brilliant."

Rafayel grinned, undeterred. "Hey, clients love surprises! Plus, who wouldn't want a holographic cat?"

You sighed in mock defeat. "Sure, because when I think of a top-tier security company, the first thing that comes to mind is a feline hologram."

As Rafayel clicked through the slides, presenting the ppt to the hiring team, you couldn't shake off the growing sense of embarrassment. The colors were more vibrant than anticipated, and the whimsical fonts seemed to dance across the screen in a chaotic display.

Feeling the weight of the awkward silence, you shot Rafayel a worried glance. To your surprise, he subtly took your hand in his, fingers intertwining in a reassuring grip. It was a quiet gesture, hidden from the prying eyes of the hiring team but felt deeply by you.

Emboldened by the unexpected support, you steadied yourself as Rafayel continued the presentation, his confidence unwavering.

As the presentation concluded, the awkward silence was broken by the head of the team bursting into laughter, followed by the rest of the members. You exchanged a shocked yet relieved look with Rafayel as the laughter echoed through the room.

Rafayel leaned over, his grip on your hand subtly tightening. "Looks like we've left them speechless."

“don’t jinx it!” you whisper yelled.

You were still processing the situation, when the hiring head spoke "Well, that was certainly... unexpected," the head remarked, still chuckling. "You two have managed to bring a unique touch to our usual presentations. Would you like to assist the creative head together?”

As the shared position was announced, Rafayel gave your hand a final reassuring squeeze.