#interwoven fates
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reading thousand autumns after a bunch of mxtx and meatbun was kind of a funny experience because i low key was expecting a reveal where yan wushi and shen qiao had a secret backstory where their fates were interwoven and such. but no, yan wushi literally just found shen qiao facedown in the dirt, poked him with a stick to see if he was dead, and thought it would be funny to keep him around 💀
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DEEP WATERS
pairing: alhaitham x mermaid! reader
in the stillness of tides, alhaitham unearths a mystery long believed to be legend—a mermaid ensnared, with eyes as deep as the ocean and secrets buried in every wave. drawn by fate and enchanted by her silent song, he finds himself caught between myth and reality. in his quest to understand her world, he risks losing his own heart to the uncharted depths.
cw: part i of ii. fem reader, pronouns s/her are mentioned tho it was written in 2nd person. fluff, fluff. female body specifications; long hair! reader, nudity, slight language barrier’ struggles, characters may seem ooc. shoutout to alhaitham for name you. 15.5k words sue me. not proof-read.
reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡
Alhaitham’s day began like any other, filled with the structured predictability he deemed essential.
As Akademiya’s scribe, he was used to working methodically on his tasks, knowing exactly what was needed and never exceeding those limits. Efficiency was a virtue he held in high regard, after all.
But today, at the request of Lesser Lord Kusanali herself, he was dispatched to Port Ormos to investigate some potential concerns involving certain texts arriving from the neighboring nation. A diplomatic matter with Chenyu Vale, she had suggested, that required someone well-versed in logic and languages—a task he could accomplish quickly and with minimal interruption to his personal duties.
Now, as he stood on the outskirts of Port Ormos with his task nearly complete, Alhaitham surveyed the bustling dock.
While Port Ormos often seemed chaotic to him, he couldn’t deny the appeal of watching the ebb and flow of commerce, of lives interwoven in casual exchanges and swift negotiations. But just as he prepared to leave, his attention was drawn to a quieter stretch of the coast, an isolated, rarely visited area far from the main docks. This was usually his kind of place: quiet and solitary.
However, today, the silence was broken by something… peculiar. It wasn’t the rhythmic murmur of the waves or the occasional seagulls that caught his attention, but an odd, strained sound. It was faint but persistent—a low occasional growl mixed with something he couldn’t immediately identify.
Curiosity piqued, Alhaitham allowed his gaze to scan the sandy stretch. There was no one else in sight; no sailors, no matras. This area seemed entirely deserted, only adding to the mystery.
He approached cautiously, his trained eyes alert with every movement. Then, amidst the scattered shells and seaweed, he saw it: a glimpse of something familiar yet entirely strange.
A tail. Long, dark, and unmistakably fish-like, though far more mesmerizing in its iridescent palette and certainly larger than any common marine animal. Its dark blue with a touch of gray caught the light and shimmered with shifting hues as the waves lapped gently over it.
Alhaitham’s breath hitched as his gaze traveled from the fish tail to its source, finally landing on the figure trapped in a tangled mess of fishing net.
This was no ordinary sea creature. No. It was a mermaid.
For a man who prided himself on his calm and logical demeanor, Alhaitham felt an undeniable wave of disbelief and fascination wash over him.
Mermaids were, at best, myths—Fontaine tales told in taverns and old children’s books. In his days as a student, he had skimmed the sparse historical mentions of mermaids, intrigued by their academic mystery, though ultimately dismissing them as baseless stories. Historians had little to offer about them—no language to decipher, no artifacts to study. It was all speculative, fantasy stories wrapped in the very mystique of the sea. And now, here you were, a very real mermaid right before him.
Your form was incredibly otherworldly, almost surreal in its beauty. Long hair clung to your shoulders and breasts, darkened by the water and tangled with delicate, glistening pearls, while the scales on your arms and ribs caught the faint light. But it was your face, contorted with a mixture of fear and frustration, that held him in place. Your sharp eyes, almost snake-like, blinked warily as you noticed his approach, and a low growl escaped your throat, an instinctive warning.
Alhaitham took a deep breath, grounding himself in reality. This creature—no, this mermaid—wasn’t just a legend he could dismiss. You were tangible, vulnerable, and caught in a trap you clearly couldn’t escape from.
Kneeling out of your reach, he chose his movements with calculated care. “Easy there,” he murmured, his tone neutral yet soft, more for his own benefit than yours. He doubted you’d understand, but it was instinctive to try and soothe you. He slowly extended a hand, palm open, hoping you could see he meant no harm.
Your sharp gaze tracked his every movement, a soft, cautious hiss slipping from your lips. You moved your tail against the net, trying once again to free yourself, but the more you struggled, the tighter the net seemed to trap you. Alhaitham’s gaze dropped to your bare torso, noticing the faint shimmer of scales marred by bruises, likely from your attempts to break free.
He looked back at you, meeting your wary, defiant gaze. Your intelligence was unmistakable—in your eyes, he could see a spark of recognition and caution. You knew he was a threat, but also, perhaps, your only chance.
“Alright,” he said, as if reasoning with a wild creature, and began to move carefully toward the edge of the net. You tensed, the sharp gleam of your canines visible as you bared your teeth in warning. Alhaitham paused, feeling a mix of danger and a strange empathy.
“Relax,” he said softly, ensuring his gestures were as non-threatening as possible. You continued to watch him, your expression still wary but curious. Up close, he could see your long, sharp nails, the delicate, translucent membranes between your fingers and the subtle rise and fall of your gills as you breathed shallowly and anxiously. Your beauty was undeniable but in a way that felt unreal, beyond anything he had ever encountered.
Alhaitham slowly reached for the knife at his belt, the blade glinting in the faint light. Your eyes narrowed, a low, almost inaudible growl escaping as you observed him. “I’m here to help,” he assured, keeping his tone calm, as if you could understand his intent through his voice alone.
As he brought the blade closer to the tangled net, your body went rigid, muscles tensing as if ready to spring—or strike. Your gaze locked onto his, every line of your body taut, your breathing shallow and rapid. For a brief moment, he paused, meeting your gaze with a nod of understanding, as if to say: Trust me, just for now.
With practiced ease, he cut a few threads, loosening the net just enough to give you some room. You flinched, your tail contracting involuntarily, but you didn’t pull away, allowing him to continue his work. He cut it carefully, each movement deliberate, keeping his own breathing steady as he watched your response.
He couldn’t help but wonder at the absurdity of it all. Here he was, the notorious and logical Scribe of the Akademiya, performing a rescue for something—or someone—he once dismissed as pure fantasy. The tales he had brushed aside as stories seemed to dissolve before this living being. Yet his mind continued to spin with questions he couldn’t suppress: How did you end up here, trapped in this net? And what would become of you now?
As he cut the last thread, he noticed your injured tail more clearly, a long red line seeping through the translucent scales. A frown crossed his face as he sheathed the knife, feeling the faintest pang of concern.
“You’re hurt,” he said quietly, not knowing if you would understand him. You shifted slightly, flexing your tail as if testing your freedom, your expression cautious but no longer as frantic. Your eyes met his again, and for a moment, something like gratitude flashed in your gaze—fleeting, almost imperceptible, but there.
He couldn’t help but smile slightly, feeling a pull of fascination, his mind instinctively cataloging every feature, every movement.
Yet Alhaitham’s thoughts clicked into the details of the situation with calculated precision.
He observed the desolate stretch of beach where he found you, far removed from the main port and any regular fishing route. This area was more of a neglected backwater than a place frequented by locals, let alone fishermen. He was certain you hadn’t been captured here intentionally; instead, you must have ventured here alone, in danger or by mistake, only to be caught by the tangled mess of nets, possibly abandoned by a passing fishing boat.
He looked back at you, his analytical gaze softening slightly. Faced with this new reality, you bore little resemblance to the wild, monstrous figures folklore sometimes suggested. You were undeniably alive, aware, and your beauty, strange and striking, had an almost hypnotic quality.
But despite his attempts at rational analysis, concern rooted itself as he examined your injuries.
The wound on your tail continued bleeding slowly, deep crimson droplets blending into the sea water. He didn’t know how long you had been trapped, but the blood loss, however gradual, could spell trouble if left untreated. There was also the issue of eremites and mercenaries who roamed the outskirts of Port Ormos, not to mention treasure hunters and opportunists. You’d be a prize beyond imagination for many of them if they found you in this weakened state…
The weight of your expectant gaze held him in the moment, your snake-like eyes gleaming with suspicion and interest. You watched him closely, trying to understand him as he studied you. He could see in the slight press of your lips, as if bracing to hiss or growl, ready to flee if needed. But he also noticed that, even in your obvious wariness, there was a glimmer of something more—a reluctant trust, perhaps, that he wasn’t here to harm you.
He took a careful step forward, his voice calm. “Can you understand me?” he asked, each word slow and deliberate.
Silence, save for the rhythmic lap of waves against the shore.
Opting to approach you through another means, Alhaitham raised a hand to his chest, fingertips gently pressing over his heart. He met your eyes, holding your gaze firmly, and said, “Alhaitham,” keeping his voice low, repeating the name once more, “Al-Haitham,” drawing each syllable with deliberate clarity.
You head tilted cutely, eyes blinking expressively. You watched his gesture, your gaze lingering on the hand over his heart, as if trying to decipher the meaning in his movements and tone. He could see your intrigue, the silent intelligence behind your eyes suggesting that, though there was no response, his words had not entirely gone unnoticed.
Satisfied to have given you something to hold onto, Alhaitham took a deep breath to calm himself.
Internally, the scribe wrestled with a series of difficult choices. Returning you to the sea seemed the most logical path, but there was no certainty that you’d survive the injuries. And considering the bystanders lingering in the area, leaving you there could be even more risky. On the other hand, bringing you to his own home was… complicated. The logistics alone were challenging. He lived a fair distance from Port Ormos—nearly half an hour by walking—and carrying you the entire way risked exposure for both you and himself.
As he turned these options over in his mind, you shifted slightly, a barely audible groan revealing you discomfort. The sight stirred an unexpected protectiveness within him. Practicality aside, leaving you in that state wasn’t an option he could consider.
He crouched beside you once again, his expression softening when he met your gaze. “It seems you’ve left me with little choice,” he murmured, half to himself. “I’ll have to find a way to take you with me.”
You blinked, your gaze never leaving him.
When he extended his hand toward you, you immediately stiffened and hissed aggressively, your body tensing as if bracing for what might come next. Alhaitham kept his movements slow and deliberate, waiting until the tension in your shoulders eased enough. When he placed a careful hand beneath you, your damp skin was smooth, cool to the touch, and your scales gleamed slightly even in the last traces of sunlight. Your breathing steadied, though he could still feel your persistent nerves.
He thought for a moment, gauging your weight, and realized it’d be challenging to carry you all the way to his home without attracting attention. He glanced back at the main harbor, then at you, pondering an alternative solution.
Then his eyes landed on an old wooden cart leaning against the weathered side of a nearby storage shed. The cart was small, probably used to transport boxes of fish or bags of supplies from the coast, with thick wheels designed to handle rough paths. Judging by the nets and equipment scattered around it, it likely belonged to a fisherman or trader who had left it unattended for the day.
With a hint of reluctance, Alhaitham assessed the cart and the possible risks of borrowing it. But practicality won out; the cart was discreet and functional, a solution he couldn’t ignore.
Carefully, he carried you toward the cart, moving at a steady, unhurried pace to keep your calm. You were clearly frightened, your body tensing slightly as he approached the cart, but your eyes remained focused on him, not on the unfamiliar contraption.
“It’s the best I can do for now,” he murmured, his tone gentler, as he placed a soft cloth he had found along the cart’s surface, creating a makeshift cushion over the rough wood.
Slowly, he guided you to sit, your injured tail carefully positioned on the padding. Your eyes darted between him and the cart, a flicker of nervousness visible in the way your fingers clenched and relaxed, but you stayed still, watching him intently as he adjusted the cloth around you.
Once he was certain you were settled, he grasped the iron handle of the cart and began to pull, setting a careful yet steady rhythm. The journey ahead was longer than he had anticipated, and he kept his attention on the road, his mind flooded with questions he couldn’t yet answer.
As you both traced the more secluded paths back to his home, Alhaitham found himself glancing over his shoulder at you, curiosity mingling with a cautious sense of awe. The sound of the cart’s wheels rolling over the uneven path filled the silence between you two, a strangely rhythmic backdrop for his swirling thoughts.
This encounter was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He had encountered beings as mythical as they were magical during his studies, but mermaids—real mermaids—had always been a subject wrapped in mystery and skepticism. And now here he was, with a living, breathing mystery being carried by him in an old, borrowed cart, with questions he could hardly begin to ask.
As he neared home, Alhaitham’s thoughts began to drift toward Kaveh, his housemate. The scribe knew he had the right to bring anyone he wanted into his own home, yet he couldn’t entirely ignore the small tug of doubt about what the architect might think of this stranger among them—especially given the undeniable peculiarity of the situation.
When they finally arrived, Alhaitham noticed an unusual stillness in the cart.
Looking back, he was startled to find you breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling with visible effort. Your eyelids fluttered, your gaze unfocused and barely registering your surroundings. He had assumed you were silent due to simple exhaustion, but now he could see your strength waning; the wound on your tail was no longer bleeding heavily, but your skin had lost its previous luster, becoming dull and slightly pale.
He realized, with a start, that you had likely been out of the water for too long, your injuries worsening your condition. Without a second thought, he lifted you into his arms, your weight shifting in his hold as he carefully cradled you against his chest. Your skin was colder than he had expected, and you barely reacted, your head drooping slightly to one side as he carried you through the entrance.
The house was quiet, he noticed. Kaveh was probably finishing a project or relaxing at the local tavern. In a way, it was a relief; Alhaitham didn’t want to face questions yet, not when every minute counted. Quickly, he headed to his suite, knowing the bathroom there would be the best place to stabilize you.
Reaching the bathroom, the scribe laid you on the floor, leaning you against the wall while he turned on the bathtub’s faucet. The water splashed and rose in the tub, filling the room with a soft, familiar sound, and he carefully tested the temperature, ensuring it was comfortable for you.
Once the tub was full, he returned to your side, sliding his arms around you to lift you again, and gently submerged you in the water.
The effect was almost immediate. The tension in your shoulders began to ease, your body relaxing as you adjusted to the gentle embrace of the water. Your tail submerged partially, the scales faintly shimmering as your breathing began to steady. You blinked slowly, your eyes finally regaining some clarity, and your gaze turned to him once more.
Alhaitham found himself watching you, captivated. The way you moved in the water was like observing a creature in its natural element; you were graceful, serene, each of your movements fluid and instinctive, even in such a small space. For a moment, you seemed almost at peace, adjusting to your new environment with a slight sense of wonder.
After a while, Alhaitham sat on a stool nearby, examining the wound on your tail with a more clinical gaze. The cut looked deeper up close, irregular and red along the edges, likely worsened by your struggle against the net.
Carefully, he extended his hand toward it, intending to assess the damage — but at the first touch, you recoiled, a soft yet distinct growl rumbling in your throat. Your eyes locked onto his hand, narrowing in a sharp warning.
“Easy,” he said softly, his voice measured and calm. “I just want to help.”
You held his gaze, still defensive, your eyes distrustful and unyielding.
Alhaitham considered his options, realizing he needed to show you his intentions. Slowly, he rolled up his sleeve, exposing a small area of his forearm. Using a small, sterilized knife from the medical kit he kept nearby, he made a small cut. Without breaking eye contact, he took a roll of bandages and tended to the wound, pressing a small cloth to it to stop the bleeding, then securing it with careful precision.
You watched intently, your sharp eyes following every movement as he applied the bandage and finished his demonstration. He extended his hand, showing you the process was harmless, then gestured toward your injured tail with a look of gentle insistence.
Your gaze shifted from the bandaged arm to his face, and then, slowly, you relented, your tail moving toward him in a tentative gesture of trust.
Alhaitham excused and his fingers moved over the surface of your tail, the scales cool and smooth under his touch, a strange blend of softness and strength. He found himself fascinated by the texture, each scale catching faint glimmers of color as he carefully cleaned the wound and applied a thin layer of antiseptic balm.
Your reaction was hesitant, but you didn’t resist, your gaze fixed on him with a mix of attentiveness and intrigue. Alhaitham was silent, focusing on his task, though he couldn’t shake the strange sensation of examining something so mythical, so utterly otherworldly.
When he finished, he moved back a bit, giving you space to adjust and settle into the bathtub.
For a moment, the room fell silent, and Alhaitham realized you were likely hungry. Recalling his pantry, he remembered there were some canned fish—a simple, if humble, option. He rose, nodding apologetically before heading to the kitchen.
There, he grabbed the can and opened it, the salty, familiar scent wafting into the air. When he returned, you watched him with expectant eyes, your curiosity rekindled. He sat beside the tub again and offered the food, waiting to see how you would react. At first, you wrinkled your nose, suspicion shining in your gaze, but after a moment, you carefully took a piece, chewing it timidly.
It was as if a switch had been flipped. You devoured the rest with surprising intensity, your hunger evident as you finished the fish with quick, eager bites. When you looked back at him, pupils dilated and gleaming, your expression softened into something almost sweet. The unguarded look, the silent request in your face, caught him off guard—you wanted more.
A slight smile played on his lips, amused by your sudden change. Without saying a word, he grabbed another can, opened it, and offered it to you. You accepted it with the same voracious energy, and he found himself even more captivated, watching you eat with a fascination that was part analytical, part genuine curiosity, a faint hint of acceptance surfacing.
“So that’s all it takes to earn your trust, huh? Just a bit of food,” he remarked, his voice carrying a tone of entertainment as he straightened on the stool, arms crossed. His eyes gleamed with rare humor, the softened edge that few had ever seen. When he chuckled, you looked up, momentarily intrigued by the sound.
But that lightness faded as his mind returned to the current situation, his brow furrowing in quiet thought.
Alhaitham couldn’t help but feel unsettled by the scene of this creature from myth, an enigma he could barely believe was real, now looking at him from his bathtub. And he, a man usually content with the solitude of his own space, was now bound to share it with you, a mystery he found himself inevitably drawn to.
He took a deep breath and leaned toward you, his fingers interlacing.
“Where did you come from, huh?” he asked, his voice softer this time, as if coaxing an answer. “How did you end up here in Sumeru of all places?”
Each question felt like a whisper, a thread he was following in search of answers he wasn’t sure you even had.
His gaze lingered on your face, his eyes softened as he searched for some hint of recognition, something that would give him insight into the untold story you carried. But you only tilted your head, watching him with those beautiful, sharp, and intrigued eyes, and he sighed, recognizing that these questions might not yield anything for now.
With a contemplative look, he continued, more to himself now, “I don’t know how long you’ll be staying here, but…” His gaze drifted to the edge of the tub. “We’ll need to get past this language barrier,” he said, watching you carefully, noticing how you seemed to respond, if not to his words, then at least to his tone. You might not have spoken yet, but he had a strong suspicion you understood more than he initially thought.
He straightened up again, arms crossed over his chest, already planning his next steps. “Teaching you some basics should be manageable,” he mused. “You seem smart. I’ll start with simple words. Maybe that’ll give us some common ground.”
His thoughts briefly wandered to the Akademiya’s library. The House of Daena held numerous books and journals, fragments of knowledge, notes from scholars who had studied all sorts of myths. Perhaps there was something in those pages that could hold the answers he needed. He’d make a point to return there tomorrow.
Lost in thought, he murmured, “I can’t keep you in the tub forever, either. We’ll have to address that eventually.” His voice trailed off as he considered the situation more practically. For now, the tub would suffice, but it was far from a long-term solution.
You followed his every movement, though it was clear your interest was more in your surroundings than in him.
Occasionally, your gaze would drift from the dim candlelight to the strange objects decorating the bathroom, absorbing each detail of this world that was foreign to you. Alhaitham found himself staring at you, surprised at how naturally you seemed to fit into the space—a strange contrast considering you were a creature of the water, yet here you were, curious and present in the heart of his world.
Moments passed in silence, both lost in separate thoughts—Alhaitham weighing his options.
Some time later, he noticed the way your eyes began to close, your body finally giving in to the day’s exhaustion. You leaned against the edge of the tub, breathing softly, eyelids heavy. A faint, almost affectionate smile crossed his lips as he murmured, “A long day, no doubt.”
With a low chuckle, he straightened, adjusting the dim lighting to give you peace. “Goodnight,” he said softly, letting the silence of the bathroom settle over you as he returned to his suite.
Once in his room, he shed the day’s fatigue along with his usual attire, slipping into more comfortable clothing. Yet even as he tried to shift his focus, his thoughts returned to you. The mystery of who you were, what you were, haunted him in the most unexpected ways. Every answer led to another question, but that wasn’t the unsettling part. No—it was the quiet fascination you stirred within him, a desire to unravel that he never had felt before.
Heading to the kitchen, he prepared a quick meal for himself. He served a simple broth, letting it simmer as he went over the potential tasks for tomorrow.
Pay a visit to the Akademiya’ library was a must, he concluded. Perhaps he could find some records that might offer insights into mermaid lore.
But there was more to consider—how would he navigate the practicalities of living alongside you? How’d Kaveh react to your existence? The solution to the language barrier seemed a smart move, but could you communicate in the same way humans did? The thoughts accumulated, persisting as he carried his food back to his chair.
Settling in with a book about the different cultures of the desert tribes, Alhaitham tried to immerse himself in its pages, though his eyes drifted now and then toward his suite door. There was a strange sense of responsibility he couldn’t ignore.
When he had read as much as his mind would allow for the night, he got up, walking quietly to the bathroom to check on you one last time.
You were there. You were real.
The faintest trace of a smile crossed his face as he saw you sleeping, your body half-submerged in the water, your tail draped over the side of the tub. The room fell into a gentle silence, the soft rhythm of your breathing the only sound.
He lingered there for a moment longer than necessary, his mind reluctantly calming as he absorbed the peace of the moment. Finally, he closed the door and turned, heading back to his room.
After finishing his nightly routines somewhere else, Alhaitham lay in bed, his thoughts wavering between the strange events of the day and the mysteries tomorrow would bring. But tonight, he allowed himself a rare luxury: to set aside the unknown, choosing instead to let the calm of the moment settle over him.
With one last lingering thought of you, he let sleep claim him, already aware that his life had changed, subtly but irrevocably, the moment he found you.
When the first rays of dawn slipped into the room, Alhaitham woke, his mind returning to the surreal events of the previous day.
For a brief moment, he wondered if it had all been a trick of his tired mind, but the memory of your cautious yet inquisitive gaze quickly dismissed the notion. Getting up, he adjusted his clothes and headed to the bathroom, his mind already reflecting on the day’s responsibilities—and the unique situation of having a mermaid as an unexpected guest.
Opening the bathroom door, he was greeted by the sight of you already awake, fingers trailing through the water with a kind of childlike curiosity. As soon as you sensed his presence, you lifted your head, and he was met with what could only be described as a warm, welcoming look. Your sharp, reflective eyes held a glimmer of trust, hesitant but undeniably there, as if his arrival was something to be anticipated rather than feared.
Alhaitham felt a small smile tug at his lips as he observed your response, taking it as a sign that you were becoming accustomed to him.
“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice softened by the quietness of the early hour.
The words seemed to capture your attention even more closely, though he knew the meaning might be lost on you. Still, he kept his tone gentle, observing the way you seemed to listen, almost as if searching for something familiar in his voice. “I see you’re feeling at home,” there was a hint of amusement in his tone, his eyes flicking to the water you were swirling with your fingers.
Turning to the sink, he splashed water on his face and grabbed his toothbrush, methodically following the movements of his morning routine. He was aware of your gaze, fixed on each motion, following the toothbrush in his hand as he brought it to his mouth. Pausing, he looked at you, the faintest smile curving his lips as he leaned back against the sink.
“Curious now, aren’t we? It’s a toothbrush. We use it to… well, keep our teeth clean,” he explained, though he had no real expectation that you’d understand. Nevertheless, there was something strangely satisfying about sharing these little details with you, as if guiding you through the peculiarities of human life.
You watched him closely, your eyes darting between the toothbrush, the sink, and the running water. The slight confusion on your face was so genuine, so openly curious, that he found himself chuckling quietly. “I suppose none of this makes sense to you. But we humans have our habits.”
When he finished, Alhaitham straightened, casting one last look in your direction before heading to the door. “I’ll bring you some breakfast,” he said, as much out of habit as anything else, already noting the slight inquisitive tilt of your head. He lingered a moment longer than necessary, almost reluctant to leave the room, before finally heading to the kitchen to prepare for the day.
Entering the kitchen, he found Kaveh already there, hunched over a cup of coffee with a look that bordered on pure misery. The dark circles under his eyes and his slow, almost agonizing sips of coffee told Alhaitham everything he needed to know.
“Rough night?” Alhaitham’s tone was clearly teasing, though he made little effort to hide his mild disapproval. Kaveh didn’t even bother looking up, merely muttering something unintelligible as he stared at his mug.
“Don’t start,” the other man grumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion. “It’s too early for your lectures.”
Alhaitham’s lips twitched in mockery, barely hiding an ironic smile. “Lectures? Hardly. Just an observation. Maybe a bit of moderation would do you good.”
Kaveh scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. “Moderation isn’t exactly your strong suit either, judging by the amount of research papers scattered around.” He drained his coffee, muttering something about Alhaitham’s inability to keep the house organized and stumbled toward his room, the door closing with a weary thud behind him.
Shaking his head, Alhaitham turned his attention to the fridge, rummaging through its contents with a quiet purpose. He picked a selection of food he hoped might appeal to you—some leftover shrimp, dried fish, and a few other options he thought might please a creature of the sea.
Returning to you, he noticed how your gaze instantly brightened at the sight of the food he held. A barely concealed smile crossed his face as he watched your eager expression, the way you leaned forward slightly, anticipation evident in your wide eyes.
“I see I’ve already discovered the key to earning your trust,” he commented with a soft chuckle, placing the food beside the tub. “A little food, and suddenly I’m not so intimidating.”
Sitting on the stool near the tub, he watched you as you picked up the shrimp, a glimmer of wonder followed by the same fervor with which you had devoured last night’s meal. The moment you tasted it, your expression shifted to one of contentment, and he couldn’t help but be amused by how expressive you were.
“Listen,” he began in a conversational tone, though he knew the full implications were likely lost on you, “I’ll need to be away for a while,” he paused, as if weighing his words. “However, in the meantime, I’ll also check if there’s anything that might be useful for understanding your situation.”
You looked up briefly, eyes attentive, and Alhaitham felt a spark of satisfaction at your apparent focus. It was as if, despite the language barrier, some part of you had grasped the importance of his words.
He continued, a thoughtful tone in his voice, “Besides, I can’t leave you in the bathtub indefinitely, so I’ll work on a more appropriate solution. I’d like to have it back, after all,” he paused, almost speaking to himself, “Then, there’s Kaveh too who I should approach the current subject but I can deal with him later. The most important now is figure out how we’re gonna work on building your vocabulary. Just enough so we can understand each other.”
The statement lingered in the air, half a plan and half a promise.
Alhaitham realized he was already thinking about putting his plans in action, wondering if he might start teaching you simple words and phrases as soon as possible. His fingers tapped absently on his knee as he considered the logistics, the potential challenges—and rewards—of bridging that language gap.
From time to time, your gaze fell on him, as if assessing his intentions, though it didn’t take long before your focus shifted again, captivated by something else now that sunlight bright your surroundings. He marveled at your ability to find fascination in the simplest things, and for a brief moment, he felt a strange pang of something he couldn’t quite identify—a bubbling discomfort in his stomach, almost unsettling.
The silence became comfortable, broken only by the occasional soft sound of the water and you eating.
Alhaitham’s gaze drifted to the soft morning light stretching across the bathroom floor, and he suddenly realized he’d lost track of time.
A sigh escaped him as he finally rose from his seat. “Looks like that’s my cue.”
Your gaze followed him, an imperceptible questioning look in your eyes that made him chuckle softly. “What?” he said, his voice gentler. “I may not understand where you came from, but I’ll make sure you’re comfortable here.”
With one last look, he left the room to gather his things and prepare for work.
As he adjusted his attire, his thoughts returned to the moments you’d spent observing him—a feeling that lingered, even as he headed to the kitchen for a quick cup of coffee.
Before leaving, he returned to check on you one last time and considered whether or not to lock the bedroom door. He doubted you’d drag yourself around the house and was sure Kaveh wouldn’t intrude on his privacy. So, he only closed the door and make his way to the exit.
He cast one last look behind him before leaving his home and heading toward the Akademiya.
At his work, Alhaitham went through the day with practiced ease.
The tasks before him were routine; his hands swiftly leafed through documents, marking necessary corrections and assessing reports without losing pace. Occasionally, a colleague would pass by with a nod or a brief greeting, which he returned in his usual, calm manner, though his thoughts kept drifting back to you. He found himself wondering how you were doing, alone and adjusting to the strange, new world of his home.
During lunch, he took a detour to the House of Daena.
The familiar shelves surrounded him, but he was focused, his eyes scanning the spines of books and journals, all marked with references to the ancient legends and myths of Teyvat. Thanks to his access to restricted areas, he pored over some of the oldest and rarest manuscripts, hoping to glean at least a trace of knowledge about mermaids.
Most entries were vague at best—poetic reflections, scattered notes from long-dead historians, and tales from Fontaine that seemed like fables. However, he gathered hints that mermaids, if they existed, were mysterious beings known for their enchantments and charm over men, with powers beyond human understanding. Intriguing, though frustratingly incomplete.
As the sun began to set, Alhaitham finally left the office.
On his way home, he stopped by a nearby fishmonger’s stall. Fresh seafood was piled high—crabs, shrimp, mussels. Selecting a variety, he figured you would enjoy the options. Just as he was reaching for his mora pouch, he spotted Kaveh rushing toward him from across the plaza, his usually composed friend looking distinctly out of sorts.
“Alhaitham!” Kaveh’s voice was breathless, incredulous, as he skidded to a halt beside him. “You—you need to go home. Right now!”
The scribe raised an eyebrow. “Good to see you too. But if you notice, I’m a bit busy at the moment.”
“No, no, you don’t understand,” Kaveh said, nervously running a hand through his hair. “There’s—there’s a naked woman in our kitchen!”
Both Alhaitham and the vendor froze, the scribe’s mind, thouggh, racing a mile a minute. Kaveh looked genuinely shaken, his cheeks flushed, eyes wide with a mix of panic and disbelief.
“A woman…?” Alhaitham repeated, the words slipping out as he tried to process what his friend had said.
“Yes! A very naked woman! In our kitchen!” Kaveh’s voice dropped to a hiss. “She’s just—she’s in there, rummaging through the food like she owns the place!”
The realization hit Alhaitham like a shock, his pulse quickening. He barely acknowledged the merchant’s chocked stare as he turned, leaving his purchases behind as he quickly made his way home. Kaveh struggled to keep up, throwing his hands in the air.
“Alhaitham, what’s going on? Do you know something? I should’ve known I wasn’t imagining things when I heard voices coming from your room this morning. Since when do you bring women home without even giving me a heads-up? And—she’s stunning! But who—what—?”
Alhaitham didn’t respond. His mind was a whirlwind of questions, scenarios, and a strange, unexpected excitement tinged with worry. He’d hoped you’d stay in the bathtub—not creating legs and wandering around defenseless.
Kaveh was still talking, ranting in exasperation, but Alhaitham only caught fragments.
“Just… be quiet for a moment,” he muttered, eyes fixed on the path as his pace quickened.
Upon arriving home, he opened the door cautiously, Kaveh practically breathing down his neck. Heading toward the kitchen, he felt a palpable tension. And then he saw you.
You were in the center of it, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun streaming through the windows. Your human form was… breathtaking. The long, now-dry locks of your hair cascaded over your shoulders, reaching your waist, framing your face with an ethereal quality that somehow amplified your beauty tenfold. Your features—sharp yet soft, and your eyes, still carrying that same hint of mystery and allure—caught the light, leaving him speechless.
Your skin seemed to glow, luminous in a way that appeared almost otherworldly. And you were indeed very, very naked.
His gaze remained, caught between awe and sheer disbelief. You were in his kitchen, the same creature he had found tangled in the fishing net, and yet, looking at you now, he couldn’t help but feel utterly captivated.
Kaveh stammered beside him, his face bright red as he averted his gaze. “Alhaitham, seriously! Are you going to explain this or just keep staring?”
Snapping out of his trance, Alhaitham cleared his throat, masking his surprise with a carefully neutral expression. He stepped forward, catching your attention. “You… You’re human now,” he murmured, almost to himself, the amazement still lingering in his voice.
You looked up, meeting his gaze with a glint of recognition and curiosity. In that moment, Alhaitham felt a faint trace of familiarity in your eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had formed between you.
Then, to his surprise, you opened your mouth, and a single soft word escaped.
“‘Haitham.”
Alhaitham’s eyes widened. His name—or a version of it—spoken in your voice for the first time.
A strange warmth spread through him as he heard it, his own name seeming to carry an unexpected weight, as if imbued with the raw honesty of a first word. He barely had time to process it before you stepped closer and gently pulled his face toward yours, brushing the tip of your nose against his.
Kaveh let out an audible gasp beside him, his face flooding with color as he stumbled back, practically tripping over his own feet. “Archons above! What is happening to the world?” His voice was nearly a squeak as he pressed himself against the far wall, looking like he might faint from the shock.
Alhaitham, though not someone easily perturbed, found himself momentarily frozen, his pulse quickening as he processed your action. He had read about mermaid customs, albeit only briefly in fragmented records, but it occurred to him that this gesture might mean something— perhaps a greeting, a way of recognizing trust and acceptance.
With that realization, his surprise softened into something closer to warmth. The gesture felt innocent, sincere. Alhaitham’s lips curved upward, and his eyes softened as he met yours. “So, that’s how you say ‘hello,’” he murmured, his voice low, as if not wanting to break the moment.
You tilted your head, amusement gleaming in your gaze for the first time, as if you could somehow sense his thoughts. Meanwhile, Kaveh, still pressed against the wall, looked on with equal parts horror and disbelief.
“Oh, I’m going to lose my mind,” he muttered, covering his eyes as if to give the two of you some privacy. “Alhaitham, please tell me you have some kind of explanation for this—this whole situation.”
Ignoring the other man’s confused state, Alhaitham took a step back. “You surprised me,” he said, his voice softened, warmth in his tone. “I wasn’t expecting this. I wasn’t even sure if you could take on a human form, let alone speak so quickly.” He managed a small smile, the corners of his lips curling as he realized he had far more to learn about you than he initially thought.
Kaveh, still covering his eyes with one hand, muttered, “Unbelievable! You're still talking? Only you'd find yourself in this situation and still stay calm.”
Alhaitham shot him a brief look, though he couldn’t entirely blame him. Turning to you, he gently gestured for you to follow. “Come. Let’s find something for you to wear.”
As you followed him, Alhaitham tried to ignore Kaveh’s incredulous expression. He knew he’d be bombarded with questions later, but for now, all that mattered was getting you settled, dressed, and perhaps—if possible—beginning to understand the mystery you had brought into his life.
Alhaitham’s clothes hung loosely on you, but he found a way to tie them securely, adjusting the sleeves and waistband as comfortably as possible.
While he dressed you, his eyes always averting when they fell on your exposed intimates, you looked down at yourself, wide-eyed and fascinated, tilting your head as if entranced by the strange, soft fabric now covering your skin. He noticed how you examined each new sensation—the way the sleeves brushed against your arms, how the fabric rested on your shoulders, and the feeling of something covering your legs. A small smile tugged at his lips as he watched you try to make sense of it all.
Once he ensured you were clothed, your wound tended, and provided with food that seemed to delight you, Alhaitham guided you back to the main room, where Kaveh awaited.
The architect’s mouth fell open as he observed your every movement, absorbing how you moved with a blend of grace and wonder, entirely captivated by each new detail around you. Blissfully unaware of their gazes, you seemed utterly fascinated by how your own feet flexed and moved, watching them with open curiosity as if they were little, curious creatures.
Kaveh broke the silence, his eyes still wide with disbelief. “Alright… start explaining, or I might think I’m hallucinating. Or still drunk.”
Ever practical, Alhaitham recounted the events precisely, detailing how he found you entangled in fishing nets, the injury you’d suffered, and his decision to bring you home to heal.
“I didn’t know if she would survive in the wild with her injuries,” he added, his tone practical, though he couldn’t help glancing at you to make sure you were still comfortable. “It seemed the most reasonable option.”
Kaveh nodded slowly, his expression blank as he pieced together the story. “So, you’re saying she’s not just some random woman, but actually a mermaid—a living legend—and you decided to bring her here.” He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a low whistle. “I can’t say I blame you. But… what do you plan to do next?”
Alhaitham crossed his arms, his gaze steady. “She’s free to leave whenever she wants. But with her injury”—he gestured subtly to your bandaged leg—“I doubt she’ll go far. Until she heals, she’ll stay here, and I’ll try to learn as much as I can. We still know so little about her species.”
Kaveh raised an eyebrow. “You realize what you’re saying, right? We’re talking about a mermaid, not just some stray animal you can study. People would pay a fortune just to catch a glimpse of her. She could be in real danger if someone else, or even the Akademiya, finds out.”
Alhaitham didn’t waver. “I’m well aware. That’s why, for now, she stays here. I’ll be careful.”
Kaveh, even relunctantly, nodded, his concern gradually shifting to fascination as he watched you stretch your legs, then flex your feet experimentally, giggling with delight.
“Does she understand us? I mean, can she speak our language since she had said your name a while ago?”
A faint smile played at the corner of Alhaitham’s lips. “She’s getting the hang of it.”
Kaveh brightened, leaning forward with a smile. “Ah, well, in that case…” He pointed to himself, speaking slowly and clearly, “Kaveh!”
Your gaze quickly lifted from your feet to study Kaveh, and you seemed to pay considerable attention to his name. With your brows slightly furrowed, you tilted your head, then murmured softly, “Haitham.”
Kaveh’s smile faltered, his face contorting in confusion as he shot Alhaitham an incredulous look, who was suppressing an amused look.
Determined, Kaveh repeated his name, louder this time. “Kaveh,” he insisted, as if pure repetition would yield better results.
You watched him with a mixture of curiosity and slight confusion, though a barely perceptible glimmer of pure mischief crossed your eyes. Confident, you repeated again: “Haitham.”
Alhaitham couldn’t hold back. A low chuckle escaped him, and he shook his head, watching Kaveh’s patience fray as he let out a dramatic sigh.
“Oh, I get it,” Kaveh muttered, crossing his arms and pouting. “I’m just the ‘other guy,’ huh?”
“She’s learning,” Alhaitham reassured, a faint but warm smile touching his lips. “It’ll take time, and she seems to have chosen a starting point.” He looked at you, his gaze softened. This didn’t escape the architect’s sharp eyes, who raised an eyebrow subtly.
In the end, Kaveh rolled his eyes but couldn’t fully hide a smile. “Well, I suppose I’m honored to be in her presence anyway,” his gaze lingered on you, his voice softening with a kind of reverence. “It’s still hard to believe. This—this is actually real.”
Alhaitham’s gaze shifted from Kaveh back to you, his eyes calm but observant. “Yes,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else, “it is.” The smile in his eyes remained, becoming a bit more serious. “And I think our lives just got a lot more interesting.”
The conversation continued, flowing naturally between Alhaitham and Kaveh, though their attention rarely drifted from you.
Kaveh’s eyes shone with unmistakable fascination every time he looked in your direction, still grappling with the fact that he was in the presence of a mermaid. Alhaitham, meanwhile, was studying you with a different intent, as if weighing the potential for you not only adapt further, or learn and communicate, but perhaps even bridge the gap between your worlds entirely.
And yet, both men couldn’t ignore your beauty—a graceful, ethereal presence that captivated them even in this simple, domestic setting.
After a lull in the conversation, Kaveh cleared his throat, shifting his gaze between Alhaitham and you. “You know, I was thinking… does she have a name?” He looked at Alhaitham expectantly, as if the answer was obvious.
Alhaitham blinked, his expression unreadable for a moment. He hadn’t even considered it until now; you’d only just learned to say his name, so the thought of you having one of your own hadn’t crossed his mind.
Seeing his hesitation, Kaveh continued, “We can’t just keep calling her ‘she,’ ‘mermaid’, ‘woman’ or something vague all the time. She deserves a name.”
Alhaitham nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. She should have a name… something that suits her.” He looked at you, his gaze contemplative, as if searching for some hidden part of your essence to capture in a single word.
Kaveh, always the creative, leaned forward eagerly. “Alright, how about… ‘Sapphire’? She has that ethereal, oceanic vibe, right?”
Alhaitham frowned slightly. “Too obvious.”
Undeterred, Kaveh tried again. “Alright, then… ‘Pearl’? She has this… luminous quality.”
Alhaitham tilted his head. “A bit too delicate. It doesn’t match her strength.”
Kaveh leaned back on the sofa, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Alright, Mr. Critic. What do you suggest?”
A faint spark of memory lit up Alhaitham’s eyes, and he looked at you, seemingly lost in thought.
“There was an ancient text I read some time ago about the mythology of a lost kingdom. In it, there was a name that stood out to me… (Y/N).” The name slipped from his lips with a gentle reverence, as if resurrected from some ancient memory.
You looked up, tilting your head at the sound. Something about the name resonated, as if it called to a part of you that you hadn’t realized was waiting for it. A faint glimmer of recognition seemed to flicker in your gaze, and the smallest, almost imperceptible smile curved your lips. Alhaitham noticed, his eyes widening as he observed your reaction.
Kaveh, noticing your response as well, let out a low whistle. “Well, that settles it. (Y/N). It has a mystique aura, something that feels… timeless.”
Alhaitham nodded, his gaze locked on yours with a hint of satisfaction. “(Y/N),” he repeated softly, as if affirming the choice. You responded by smiling at him, your expression open and serene, as if accepting the name as your own.
In that moment, Alhaitham felt a quiet sense of accomplishment, as if he had bridged another small yet meaningful gap between you and the human world. Kaveh, adjusting himself with a smile, looked at you both in reverence. “Well, it seems we’ve officially welcomed (Y/N) into our lives.”
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝
The days passed quickly, and Alhaitham found himself studying you almost as closely as you seemed to study the world around you.
Teaching you turned out to be a surprisingly smooth process—‘hello’, ‘yes’ and ‘no’ being the words you’ve learned easily and used the most along with his name. You absorbed new words with a quiet curiosity, and even when your attention drifted to things like sunlight gleaming on a glass or the smell of incense from somewhere nearby, you still seemed to remember his words as if you’d stored them in a special place in your mind.
Your palette was another revelation for him. While seafood seemed to be a favorite, you showed great interest in trying every dish he introduced to you, from savory curries to exotic native fruits from Sumeru. Alhaitham watched as your eyes widened in surprise at the first taste of a ripe Zaytun Peach, the juice trickling down your chin as you savored each bite. He found himself smiling at how you looked at the fruit as if it were a gift, a piece of magic in the form of sweetness.
One afternoon, Alhaitham arrived home to the sound of aggressive hisses and faint, curious purrs. Concerned, he quickly entered the house to find you pressed against the wall, wide-eyed as a gray tabby cat—likely a neighbor’s runaway—rubbed itself against your legs. At first, you recoiled, showing claws and sharp canines in an instinctive defense. But as soon as the creature began to purr, you softened. Alhaitham watched, amused, as you knelt down, carefully petting the animal with an almost reverent gentleness, murmuring the word “yes” repeatedly as if you were in mutual agreement with the feline’s own rumbling approving.
Then, there was Kaveh.
The architect’s affection grew towards you—although every time he was determined to make you remember his name, he was met with your unique mischievous smile and the same answer each time: “Haitham.”
You said it with a bit of cadence, as if relishing how it made him frown in exaggerated frustration. Alhaitham, leaning back in his chair one evening, smirked at the interaction, watching Kaveh’s latest attempt dissolve into another sigh of defeat.
“All right, I see what it’s going on” Kaveh grumbled one day, crossing his arms as you observed him with a playful glint in your eyes. “You’ll acknowledge me properly, eventually.”
Once, however, you found Kaveh hunched over his workspace, focused on a miniature architectural model. You approached quietly, observing the delicate structures he had assembled with fascination. Noticing your presence, he looked up and saw the appreciative smile on your face, understanding it as a compliment. “At least someone here likes my work,” he murmured with a chuckle. “If only all my clients were this easy to please…” He paused, ironically melancholic, earning an empathetic hum from you.
Both men had fallen into a rhythm around you, somehow more accommodating than they had expected. They adjusted to your needs perfectly, sharing the responsibility of ensuring your comfort, and found themselves both challenged and charmed by your presence.
For you, on the other hand, their world had become a comfortable place, one where you settled into a rhythm of small delights and quiet discoveries.
One day, as Alhaitham prepared tea for the three of you, he found himself reflecting aloud, speaking as if to himself. “I never imagined a mythical creature would be so adaptable,” he glanced at you sitting on the floor of the living room, distractedly munching half an apple and reading the newspaper, marveling at the images and texts with the adorable little sounds of awe you let out. Alhaitham couldn’t hold back the affectionate smile.
Kaveh, sitting cross-legged as he studied his latest designs, looked up and nodded, laughing. “She’s adapted better than I did when I moved here,” he commented. “It’s nice to finally have a roommate who doesn’t critique my design choices every five minutes.”
Alhaitham shot him a look, but he wasn’t offended. “Maybe she knows that beauty is best observed without unnecessary comments,” he replied coolly, his eyes lingering on you as you immersed yourself in your things.
In your own way, you had made your home with them. And, day by day, both Alhaitham and Kaveh were discovering that perhaps they had made their home with you too.
Alhaitham had also been keeping his promise, carefully ensuring your safety and privacy within the walls of his home.
However, as the days passed, he began to notice that your curiosity was growing restless. Though your injuries were healing well, you seemed all too aware of the world outside, especially whenever you sat by the living room window.
Hours would slip by as you watched the passing crowds, children playing, merchants bartering. He and Kaveh had tried to explain the dangers of going out, cautioning you that it wasn't the best idea until you were fully recovered, but your eagerness to explore was unmistakable.
So, after weighing the pros and cons and discussing the arrangement with Kaveh, Alhaitham made a decision: a small outing, just enough to satisfy your curiosity without risking too much exposure. You needed clothes anyway, something more suitable than his shirts or Kaveh’s oversized tunics. And thus, one sunny afternoon, after a few of your lessons and some necessary safety ensures, Alhaitham guided you through the bustling streets of Sumeru City and towards the Grand Bazaar.
The moment your bare feet touched the warm, sun-dappled street stones, your eyes lit up with childlike wonder. Every detail enchanted you—the intricate architecture, the intoxicating scent of spices in the air, the hum of life around you. Alhaitham noticed the way your gaze darted to every vibrant stall and passing stranger, taking in the chaos with delight.
However, he also noticed something else: the way nearly every man you passed seemed to pause, transfixed, their gazes lingering on you.
It wasn’t just that they were admiring your beauty—they were captivated, their expressions turning almost dreamlike, as if spellbound. Alhaitham’s brows furrowed as he watched one guy receive a swift smack from his wife when she caught him staring a bit too long. He took a step closer to you, shielding you slightly from the attention, and you, caught up in everything around you, hardly noticed.
You gasped softly as you entered the Grand Bazaar, eyes wide with excitement. The stalls were filled with handmade crafts, woven fabrics, jars of colorful spices, and foods you’d never seen before. Alhaitham, trailing just behind you, couldn't help but feel a flicker of warmth as he watched you light up at each new discovery, as if the world itself had become a treasure chest, and you were here to explore its wonders.
Before long, something shiny caught your attention—a stall laden with intricate jewelry. Without thinking, you wandered away from his side, drawn to the display like a moth to flame. Alhaitham followed, watching as you reached out to touch a delicate hairpin encrusted with tiny, shimmering green stones.
The vendor, an older woman with a warm smile, caught your fascination and chuckled softly. “A beautiful accessory for a beautiful lady,” she said, her gaze shifting to Alhaitham with a knowing smile.
“Do you like that one?” Alhaitham asked gently. His tone was softened by an affection he didn’t quite manage to conceal.
“Yes,” you replied, your voice almost reverent as you ran your fingers over the hairpin, tracing each glimmering stone as though it held secrets of the ocean within.
He didn’t hesitate, reaching for his pouch and handing the vendor the necessary payment. The woman winked, her smile widening. “Lucky man, I’d say,” she murmured in a voice barely above a whisper, but Alhaitham caught it. He didn’t answer.
With a delighted smile, you thanked the vendor in your own way—a beaming, enchanted expression that lit up the old woman’s face as much as it did Alhaitham’s. You carefully cradled the accessory as if it were the most precious thing you’d ever owned, gazing at it as you walked away. But soon enough, your attention shifted to the scent of roasting fish at a nearby food stall. The vendor there, turning a skewer of freshly spiced fish over an open flame, waved you over with a friendly grin.
As you darted toward the stall, Alhaitham noticed something else in the jewelry display—a pendant with a smooth, iridescent stone that bore a striking resemblance to your tail. Silently, he purchased it, tucking the necklace into his pocket. The vendor gave him a sly look, but he ignored it, focusing instead on you, already entranced by the food stand.
“Oh, to be young again,” the vendor mused as she watched he leaving.
When he caught up with you at the food stall, you were leaning over the counter, staring in awe at the array of delicacies. The stall owner chuckled as you tilted your head curiously, taking in the fish skewers and assorted seafood. “She’s like a little fox in a new den,” he said to Alhaitham, amused by your wide-eyed fascination.
Alhaitham gave a small, knowing smile as he nodded. “You have no idea.”
The scribe exchanged a few coins for one of the skewers, then handed it to you with a small smile. Your fingers barely wrapped around it before you eagerly took a bite—too eager, it turned out, as you winced, the hot fish burning your tongue. Alhaitham sighed softly, his gaze both amused and indulgent.
“Careful,” he murmured, taking the skewer back for a moment and blowing gently on it, cooling it with a practiced patience. Watching him, you imitated his action, blowing on the skewer with the same careful attentiveness, which made his lips tug upward slightly. As he handed it back, you took another bite, this time savoring the flavors more slowly.
As the two of you continued to weave through the market, you marveled at every passing sight—the colors, the sounds of bartering, and the occasional street performer. You paused to watch a dancer swaying gracefully, her movements captivating as her bright clothing fluttered with each spin. Passersby occasionally nodded and greeted Alhaitham, who gave polite nods in return—their eyes going wide open when they saw you standing by his side. His attention, though, often shifted to you, keeping you close as you wandered, enchanted by your enthusiastic wonder.
Eventually, you stopped before a more discreet storefront draped with curtains of deep blue and gold. The sign above bore intricate lettering, and inside, racks and shelves brimmed with garments of all kinds.
Alhaitham led you in, and you finished the skewer just as he did a quick sweep of the store. Taking the skewer stick, he tossed it into a nearby waste bin and approached the owner, an older gentleman with warm, thoughtful eyes.
The store was a treasure trove of fabrics in every shade, from vibrant hues to rich jewel tones, each piece imbued with a hint of Sumeru’s distinct, earthy style. Alhaitham and the owner spoke in low tones, exchanging opinions on a few pieces he was considering for you. But your eyes soon caught on a different rack—dresses and skirts crafted with delicate fabrics and intricate patterns.
Just then, a younger woman stepped out from behind one of the store’s curtain partitions. She looked you over with a friendly smile, her gaze lingering in admiration. “You have an eye for the finest pieces,” she said, her voice warm. “These are all my father’s designs. Here, let’s find one for you to try.”
She sorted through the rack with a discerning eye before settling on a dress. It was a pearly white, form-fitting but flowing at the hem, with soft layers and gentle ruffles. She led you to the dressing room, helping you into it as you fumbled with the ties and delicate fabric.
When you emerged from behind the dressing room curtain, the woman sighed audibly, her expression caught between pride and awe. Her reaction caught Alhaitham’s attention, and as he turned, his eyes settled on you—and stayed.
The dress fit you in a way that was both modest and striking. The neckline formed a gentle "V" between your collarbones, dipping gracefully but tastefully. The silhouette hugged your curves, enhancing your natural beauty, while the flowing fabric below the waist gave the dress an ethereal elegance, rising just above your heels.
Alhaitham was quiet, his gaze intent, his usual unreadable expression amazed, revealing a glimmer of something deeper—an admiration that ran silently but profoundly through him. He couldn’t look away, as though you’d become the center of his world in that moment.
For a brief moment, you met his eyes, and a silent understanding passed between you. You felt his unspoken thoughts, his breath subtly drawn in awe, and his gaze, filled with softness, lingering as though he was seeing you in a new light.
The shop owner’s voice cut through the moment. “I’d say we’ve found the perfect model for this design,” he said with a chuckle, nodding approvingly at you. “It looks as though it was made for her.”
Alhaitham’s lips curved into a faint smile, and he nodded. “Yeah. Indeed,” he agreed, his tone subdued but genuine. The shop owner offered a discount for future purchases, which Alhaitham accepted gratefully.
After purchasing a few more clothes, Alhaitham approached you and, with a hint of a smile, told you, “You look beautiful.” Though the words were simple, the sincerity in his gaze made them feel more profound. You understood his compliment, your expression softening as you smiled back at him with a shyness that made you glance away, if only for a second.
The shop owner mentioned shoes, but Alhaitham shook his head gently. He knew you’d be more comfortable as you were, free of any restricting footwear.
With your new clothes in hand, you left the place, your eyes still brimming with curiosity. Alhaitham stayed close to you as you continued exploring the bazaar, his mood lightened by the unexpected happiness you seemed to bring him. There was a new excitement in your steps, and he watched with subtle amusement, unable to deny the warmth growing within him as he saw the joy in your expression.
Returning home, you felt content, each step still buzzing with excitement from your discoveries, and the dress Alhaitham bought you flowing like water around you.
Entering the house, the warm scent of food drifted from the kitchen. Kaveh was already there, busy at the stove, humming softly to himself as he prepared lunch. When he turned around and caught sight of you, his eyes widened, a slow, dazzled-like smile spreading across his face.
“Well, look at you,” he said warmly, clearly charmed by the sight. “You look wonderful! For the first time, Alhaitham did a good job by buying you this dress,” his tone had a hint of teasing, and you saw Alhaitham’s brow twitch slightly, but he stayed silent, watching the two of you.
Kaveh’s admiration had a certain ease to it, a natural warmth that made you feel instantly welcome. He turned back to the stove, but not without another approving nod at your attire. Alhaitham’s silence prompted him to ask, “So… how was the city?” He threw a teasing glance Alhaitham’s way then at you. “Did our scribe here give you the grand tour all by himself?”
Alhaitham sighed, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “She wasn’t exactly difficult to entertain,” he replied dryly. “Everything was new, so it didn’t take much.”
Kaveh chuckled.
“Of course it didn’t,” he set the food down, his gaze filled with an amused understanding. Alhaitham merely looked away, feigning indifference, though you sensed a certain pride beneath his casual tone.
During lunch, the two of them recounted little moments from the day—Kaveh enjoying the story of you burning your tongue on the fish skewer, and Alhaitham quietly reliving the way your eyes had sparkled at the Grand Bazaar’s colorful sights. But despite their words, their gazes often turned back to you, captivated by your delight in all the new things you’d encountered.
At one point, Kaveh leaned back, shooting Alhaitham a knowing look.
“So, a personal shopping trip, huh? Just the two of you,” he teased, clearly amused by the idea of Alhaitham guiding someone around. “How sweet.”
Alhaitham narrowed his gaze, giving Kaveh a warning look that said more than words could. But there was a subtle softness in his eyes as they drifted back to you, a sense of quiet caring that you caught, even if he tried to hide it.
After lunch, you noticed Alhaitham start to gathering the dishes, starting to cleaning them as Kaveh made his way to the living room. Walking over him, you lingered, staring at him until Kaveh looked back, caught off guard by your gaze, feeling a bit embarrassed. When you pulled out the hairpin Alhaitham had bought you earlier, he seemed to understand, a faint blush of realization coloring his cheeks.
“Oh, you want me to do your hair?” He chuckled, gesturing for you to sit. “Alright, alright, I’ll help.”
You settled in the chair, feeling his gentle hands working through your hair. He gathered it halfway, securing the rest with the pin and letting loose strands fall around your face. When he was done, he guided you to a mirror, smiling proudly as you took in the sight. The style was simple but lovely, suiting you perfectly.
“Beautiful,” he murmured softly, watching your expression over your shoulders as you took in the effect. For a moment, the two of you were lost in the quietness of that shared moment.
From behind you, a soft sound drew your attention. Alhaitham was standing in the doorway, watching, a fond look on his face. He must have finished cleaning the kitchen but had stayed, observing without saying a word.
You turned back to Kaveh, your gaze warm and filled with gratitude.
“Kaveh,” you said softly, the name unfamiliar on your tongue but carrying genuine meaning.
His eyes widened, surprise flickering across his face before he grinned, laughing as he leaned back, crossing his arms.
“Finally saying my name, huh?” He teased, though his voice was warm, “I guess even a mermaid knows when to appreciate the finer things.” Despite his playful words, there was an unmistakable happiness in his gaze, as if your small act of gratitude had touched him.
With the meal finished and the midday light softening, the three of you spread out around the house. You curiously inspected the clothes Alhaitham had bought, marveling at the soft fabrics, while the two men chatted in the adjacent room. Kaveh’s voice floated over, calling to his housemate.
“Hey, listen. Cyno passed by earlier inviting us out to the tavern tonight. Tighnari is also coming. I didn’t give him an immediate answer given our… adorable guest,” his gaze flicked meaningfully to you, a question lingering unspoken between the two men.
They both turned, glancing at you thoughtfully. For a moment, you saw them exchange a silent conversation, considering whether the outing might be risky. But then Alhaitham gave a slight nod, resolute.
“We’ll take her with us,” he said confidently. “With the right precautions, it should be fine.” He glanced at you, his eyes filled with the assurance that they’d watch over you. “Besides,” he added with a hint of a smile, “I feel she’d be upset if we don’t take her to explore a little bit more now that she has seen the outside world.”
Kaveh chuckled, nodding. “Then it’s settled. Tonight, we’ll go to the tavern—all three of us.”
As the sky slowly darkened, anticipation hung in the air, the promise of the evening drawing closer.
The afternoon had drifted by with Alhaitham trying to teach you new words and phrases, but your attention kept slipping back to the new clothes he’d bought. You ran your fingers over the fabrics, turning them this way and that to catch the light, dazzled with the colors and the softness. Alhaitham eventually gave up, sighing in quiet amusement as he noted just how material and delightfully vain you could be—a discovery he should’ve expected.
Later, you wandered into his suite room to bathe, instinctively drawn to the water. The moment you slipped into the warm tub, your legs transformed back into your shimmering tail, scales glinting under the water’s surface.
It had left Kaveh speechless the first time he’d seen it—his penny dropping at your truly identity. You were truly a mermaid. Nonetheless, he wasn't less captivated by the change and your graceful form. Alhaitham, however, while more composed, could hardly hide his fascination, watching with a quiet intensity every time he witnessed the transition.
After bathing, you found yourself in a familiar routine: sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting as Alhaitham approached with your clothes. This time, though, he brought one of the recent purchase pieces; a beautiful dress in his hand—its fabric being of a rich, jade green; a vibrant hue that reminds of his own eyes-color but that seemed to intensify the shine and warmth of yours only.
As he helped you ease into it, his fingers lingered as he adjusted the zipper, his gaze studying you, perhaps more than he realized. And though you found yourself shivering at the intensity of his eyes, there you were too—looking up at him, meeting his gaze firmly and sensing an admiration that he only allowed you to see.
“It suits you,” he murmured, his voice low, a hint of awe slipping through his usually neutral tone. In that dress, you seemed otherworldly, like a goddess who had emerged from the depths of the sea, carrying its beauty onto dry land with impossible grace.
He knelt down then to inspect your injury, noting the lingering redness. Alhaitham carefully applied an ointment, his touch gentle but focused, and you watched his expressions shift with a subtle concern. Then, with a slight nod of satisfaction, he helped you to your feet.
After that, you made your way to Kaveh, showing him the hairpin again, calling his name with a soft voice.
His smile grew, a touch of pride in his gaze as he admired the way his name sounded from your lips, and he took great care in doing your hair once more, letting strands fall loose to frame your face as he did before.
Finally ready, you three left for Lambad’s Tavern.
The streets were alive with the buzz of evening activity, laughter and music drifting through the air as Alhaitham and Kaveh walked beside you. The city was lit by soft lantern light, and you felt a thrill at being part of it all, the world so different from anything you’d known.
At the tavern, the warm atmosphere enveloped you, the scent of spices and roasted meats filling the air.
Alhaitham spotted Cyno and Tighnari across the room almost immediately as the two of them also turned as you approached. Their greeting smiles fainted when their gazes fell on you, a moment of pure awe passing over their faces afterwards. Cyno blinked, visibly stunned, while Tighnari’s foxy-ears twitched, his sharp eyes widening in surprise.
The General Mahamatra, usually so composed, couldn’t seem to look away, his thoughts racing. He was accustomed to beauty in the world around him, yet something about your presence felt almost magical, like an ethereal vision he couldn’t quite understand.
As for Tighnari, his keen senses took in every detail—the way the green dress brought out the otherworldly depth in your eyes, or the elegance of your form. You were unlike anyone he’d ever encountered, and he was captivated, even if he tried to hide it.
Before any questions could arise, Kaveh, ever the quick-thinker, stepped in with an explanation. “She’s an exchange student. From Fontaine,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. “She’s staying with us while she studies…uh, the culture of Sumeru.”
Alhaitham sighed at the obviousness of Kaveh’s excuse, but he didn’t counter it. Cyno and Tighnari shared a skeptical glance, clearly doubting the story, yet they chose not to press further. Instead, Alhaitham formally introduced you, mentioning your name, which you responded to with a slight, graceful nod and a cute ‘hello’ following.
But feeling the need to greet them in the way of your kind, you leaned closer, gently rubbing your nose against theirs.
Kaveh gasped out loud.
Cyno’s eyes widened, a slight flush crept up his cheeks as he froze, uncharacteristically at a loss. Tighnari, caught off guard, felt his ears tensing, the action both charming and bewildering him. Your giggles bubbled up as you noticed their flustered expressions, a soft, musical sound that filled the space between you all.
Kaveh let out a nervous chuckle. “Ah…yeah, that’s—uh, her way of saying hello. Strange, right? These Fontaine’ people…”
Alhaitham, on the other hand, observed it all with a hint of entertainment, his gaze lingering on you fondly. Watching your interactions, he noted how naturally you’d adapted to his world, your curiosity and unique charm drawing everyone in, effortlessly weaving you into their circle. There was warmth in his eyes, a feeling that spoke of his growing fondness, and you caught his gaze, offering him a small, contented smile.
As the group settled in, you sat across from Cyno and Tighnari, studying them both with unabashed curiosity.
Still recovering from your unexpected greeting, the two men seemed unsure of where to look, awkwardly averting their eyes when you met their gaze. Alhaitham leaned back in his chair, a hint of amusement in his expression as he explained, “She’s not much for words, as you can see. Rather, she’s more the observant type.”
Cyno and Tighnari nodded, seeming to understand, though their curiosity was hardly quelled.
The tavern around you started to fill with more patrons, the hum of voices rising, mingling with the occasional laugh, the sounds coming from different instruments and the clinking of glasses. It created a cozy warmth in the dimly lit space, and you felt it settle over you as if you were part of something larger, an integral piece in the lively tapestry of Sumeru’s life.
Kaveh wasted no time flagging down the bartender. “Bring your best wine,” he said with a grand, somewhat theatrical gesture, earning a sigh from Alhaitham.
Meanwhile, Tighnari leaned in toward you, his ears twitching with interest as he tried to engage you in conversation.
“So, do you like Sumeru so far?” he asked, a gentle curiosity in his tone.
You nodded with an enthusiastic “Yes”—the single word clear and confident, though it was accompanied by a slight tilt of your head.
Encouraged, he asked, “Do you enjoy learning about plants and animals?” Tighnari’s eyes sparkled, and you could tell he was ready to launch into an explanation if given the chance.
You paused, then shook your head, “No,” you answered, earning a quiet chuckled from Alhaitham.
“Ah, I see,” Tighnari replied, trying to hide his mild disappointment. “What about... Alhaitham and Kaveh?” His eyes glanced toward Alhaitham, who pretend to ignore his friend’s question.
You didn’t thought twice when you answered “Yes” with an affectionate smile, which made Tighnari smirk.
While you answered, you noticed Cyno observing you intently, his gaze unwavering and sharp. It wasn’t suspicious—it was more as if he were studying a puzzle, his curiosity piqued by your every move. His face softened whenever he noticed the subtle gestures that replaced your lack of words, as though trying to understand this new, unfamiliar way of communicating.
When the food and wine finally arrived, you noticed each man taking their mugs and raising them in a silent toast, exchanging knowing glances.
Intrigued, you pointed at Alhaitham’s drink, brows raised with interest. He looked at you hesitantly. “I’m not sure you’ll like it,” he warned, his tone gentle but unsure. Still, he handed you a mug.
The moment you tasted the wine, your expression twisted as the bitter taste hit your tongue. The others burst out laughing as you grimaced, clearly displeased.
Kaveh, grinning widely, leaned over with an exaggerated shrug. “Not everyone appreciates a fine vintage on the first try,” he teased, eyes sparkling with the warmth of the wine already.
But then, determined, you lifted the mug to your lips and downed the rest in a single go. As you set the mug down, you pointed to it, your eyes sparkling with challenge. The table fell silent for a beat, and then Kaveh broke into a delighted laugh. “Oh, now that’s spirit!” he cheered, filling your mug again with exaggerated enthusiasm.
Alhaitham, a touch surprised but clearly amused, leaned closer and murmured, “Take easy, ok?” His tone was warm, carrying that familiar attentiveness, the kind of care he often tried to mask with practicality. You met his gaze and gave a small nod, though your mischievous smile was enough to tell him you weren’t exactly planning on slowing down.
As the evening went on, the wine kept flowing, and so did the laughter. Kaveh quickly grew tipsy, his cheeks flushed as he leaned into his chair with a self-satisfied grin, occasionally throwing his arm around you, Cyno or Tighnari as he launched into some anecdote about his “architectural genius,” much to Alhaitham’s thinly veiled eye-rolls.
“Oh, and then,” Kaveh slurred, nudging Cyno with a huff, “there was that time Alhaitham here tried to negotiate a ‘reasonable’ discount on my work. Can you believe that?” He snorted, casting a playful, slightly glazed look in Alhaitham’s direction. “I swear, he’d argue the wind into changing direction if it suited him.”
Alhaitham only raised a brow, looking at him with an expression that silently asked for patience. “Kaveh, if I hadn’t ‘negotiated,’ you’d still be working to pay off last month’s tab.”
Tighnari chuckled, watching the exchange. “You two really are quite the pair,” he commented, taking a sip of his drink, his gaze shifting between the two of them with an amused glint.
Cyno, turning his attention to you, said, “Do you always put up with them like this?” His tone was deadpan, yet you sensed a glimmer of humor beneath his serious gaze.
Understanding his question, you nodded, a soft laugh escaping you. They all seemed to lighten up, relaxing in the warmth of your quiet amusement.
As the night deepened, Cyno set his drink down with a look of pure focus. “How about a round of TCG?” he suggested, eyes gleaming with anticipation. Tighnari let out a groan, tilting his head back dramatically.
“Oh no, not this again,” he sighed, but even he knew there was no escape.
Kaveh laughed, rolling his eyes in good-natured defeat.
“Fine, fine. But we’re keeping it short, or we’ll never hear the end of it from you,” he reached for his glass and gave you a playful wink. “Prepare yourself for the most intense game you’ve ever seen,” he said, clearly intending to make a spectacle of Cyno’s enthusiasm.
Curious, you leaned closer, watching as Cyno arranged the cards and dice with meticulous precision. His fingers moved quickly, each card laid down like a sacred ritual. Noticing your interest, he paused to offer a brief explanation of the game’s mechanics.
“It’s all about strategy,” he explained, his tone almost reverent. “You play a character card, use skills, and roll dice to see how much power you have.” His eyes narrowed, smiling as he continued, “And don’t think it’s as simple as it sounds.”
You blinked, absorbing his words, but you barely had time to form a plan before the game was underway.
Somehow, against all odds, you won the first round. The table fell into a mix of laughter and shock, each of them offering half-joking explanations.
“Beginner’s luck,” Tighnari insisted, though there was a glint of amusement in his eye.
Alhaitham chuckled softly. “Maybe (Y/N) is just a natural.”
But as the rounds continued, it became clear that “luck” wasn’t the only thing helping you.
One match after another, you swept the table, your fingers moving with a natural, effortless grace as you outplayed each of them. Cyno’s brow furrowed in concentration, and you could practically see the gears turning in his mind as he tried, unsuccessfully, to decode your moves.
Finally, with a mixture of disbelief and exasperation, Cyno looked at his cards in silence. “How…?” he muttered, half to himself.
Kaveh snorted, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “Face it, man, she’s just unbeatable tonight. You, my friend, have been dethroned.”
Tighnari grinned, amused by Cyno’s frustration. “It’s impressive, honestly. Even the Champion of TCG is no match for her.”
You laughed, lifting your glass in a playful toast to your victory, which earned a round of mock cheers from the others.
Alhaitham’s gaze was soft as he watched you—your enthusiasm, the brightness in your eyes as you revel in the thrill of each win. He’d seen you embracing new experiences and adventures of his ordinary day with open arms.
From the quiet enthusiasm when you learned a new word to the happiness back in the bazaar, and now, this lively night at the tavern—he felt an undeniable warmth, a subtle pull that went beyond simple admiration.
Just as another round was about to start, a group of local men, drunk and brimming with energy, pulled Kaveh from his chair and into a circle. “Come on, architect! Show us your moves!” they cheered, clapping their hands and forming a semi-circle for him to lead. With a laugh, Kaveh obliged, seamlessly joining them in the traditional dabke.
You watched in fascination, your attention captivated by the rhythmic stomping and spirited clapping.
Kaveh’s movements were fluid, each step and stomp precise yet brimming with exuberance. His grin was infectious, and you found yourself clapping along, enchanted by the lively beat that seemed to pulse through the entire tavern.
Noticing your joy, Kaveh reached out and took your hand, pulling you into the half-circle. “Come on! You’ll love it!” he encouraged, and you laughed, letting yourself be drawn into the dance.
Standing beside him, you mirrored his movements as best as you could, and although your steps were hesitant at first, his laughter and the others’ encouragement quickly dissolved any nervousness.
You found yourself swept up in the joy of the moment, your laughter ringing out as you stomped and clapped in sync with Kaveh. The tavern patrons cheered, a few even joining in to expand the circle. Each beat of the music seemed to echo in your heart, a vibrant, untamed rhythm that made you feel alive. Your hair swayed with each movement, your dress flowed around you as if it had a life of its own. For a brief moment, you forgot everything else, lost in the pure exhilaration of dance and laughter.
Watching from the sidelines, Alhaitham’s gaze lingered on you.
He didn’t need to say a word; his expression spoke volumes. In his eyes, you were radiant—a vision of grace, strength, and unrestrained joy. He couldn’t help but marvel at how easily you fit into this place, how naturally you became part of it despite its strangeness. His chest tightened, a burning ache settling there, unfamiliar and yet… welcome. He remembered the first time he’d seen you, not too long ago, feeling vulnerable and cautious. Yet here you were, laughter filling the air, eyes alight with joy.
He hadn’t expected this—a mermaid, of all things, to stir something so profoundly human within him. But watching you, he couldn’t deny the feeling. It wasn’t simply admiration or intrigue anymore. It was something real, deeper, something that made his pulse quicken whenever he locked your gazes whenever you shared a fleeting smile or a touch of silent understanding.
A sudden chuckle from Tighnari pulled him from his thoughts, and he glanced over to see his friend smirking knowingly. “Not joining them?” He teased, his voice pitched just low enough for Alhaitham to hear.
Alhaitham glanced back at you, his lips curving in a slight smile. “I’m enjoying the view.”
Tighnari hummed, raising a brow. “Seems like you’re enjoying more than just the view.”
Ignoring Tighnari’s comment once again, Alhaitham focused his attention on you once more.
When your eyes met, he felt that sensation again—a quiet acknowledgment of something unspoken but deeply felt. He gave you a subtle nod, his gaze lingering, as if committing this moment to memory.
When the dance ended, you were breathless, your cheeks flushed with happiness as you returned to the table. Kaveh, very tipsy and clearly pleased, clinked his glass against yours. “You were fantastic!” he cheered, his eyes bright with genuine pride.
Laughing, you took a sip of your drink, catching Alhaitham’s eye as you did.
Ever since you started to live with him, sharing his culture, entering in the lonely empty of his heart and connecting with every detail that made of Alhaitham who he is, his intense gaze was something you couldn’t escape from—although neither did you want it when you were so mesmerized by him as he seemed to be with you.
But tonight, something was different—something indescribable, unknown but pleasant, sent a soft thrill through you. This was more than a shared moment—it was a promise, a silent connection that seemed to anchor you both, even amidst the noise surrounding you.
The night had fully settled by the time the three of you left the tavern.
The streets were nearly empty, bathed in the soft silver glow of a full moon overhead. A gentle breeze moved through the quiet city, carrying the faint, earthy scent of Sumeru’s flora. Stars scattered like distant lanterns in the sky, each one casting a pinprick of light over the tranquil world below. You looked up, awestruck by the vastness of the sky here. It was as if the city itself was cradled in the arms of the heavens, each corner brushed with stardust.
Alhaitham glanced at you, noticing the quiet wonder in your eyes as you took in the night’s beauty.
In the soft moonlight, your face was illuminated with an almost ethereal glow, your expression open and unguarded. Something about the way you stood there, gazing upwards as if communing with the stars, pulled invisible strings in his chest. Alhaitham found himself watching you in silence, the affection in his gaze hidden in the shadows, an unspoken tenderness that he wasn’t yet ready to voice.
Beside you, Kaveh swayed unsteadily, mumbling to himself in an incomprehensible mixture of words. You giggled, finding his drunken ramblings endlessly amusing, while Alhaitham sighed, shaking his head in disapproval but unable to suppress a small smile. He’d been prepared to carry Kaveh’s weight on his own, but you easily supported your share, surprising him with your hidden strength as you steadied the unsteady architect. You felt Alhaitham’s curious gaze settle on you, but you kept your eyes on Kaveh, helping guide him as he slurred out half-formed songs and laughter.
When you finally arrived at home, the quiet settled around you like a warm embrace.
Together, you and Alhaitham gently placed Kaveh onto his bed, his face sinking blissfully into the pillows as he drifted into a heavy, blissful sleep. You both lingered for a moment, watching to make sure he was comfortable, before retreating to the living room, leaving Kaveh to his dreams.
Once there, the two of you stood alone, the silence wrapping around you like silk. The dim lamplight cast soft shadows across the room, pooling in the spaces between you. You faced each other, yet no words came—none were needed.
Your eyes met his, and in that moment, something unspoken passed between you, a silent understanding woven with the night’s intimacy. It was a conversation of looks alone, a language more ancient than words. Your heart felt full, as if it were holding a secret too precious to release.
Alhaitham’s gaze held yours, steady and unwavering, as he reached into his pocket and drew out the small chain he’d bought back at the bazaar. The gemstone's shiny and iridescent hues caught the light, reflecting shades that soon reminded you of your tail’s colors—a perfect echo of your hidden self.
He held it out to you, his lips curving into a wise smile that reached his eyes.
Without a word, he gestured for you to turn around. You did so, your heart pounding with anticipation as he draped the chain around your neck, his fingers brushing the nape of your neck as he fastened the clasp. The warmth of his touch lingered even after his hands moved away, and you lifted a hand to the pendant, feeling its weight settle over your heart.
Looking down, you felt a surge of emotions, a mixture of joy and affection as you admired the gift. But it wasn’t just happiness—it was something deeper, something far beyond simple gratitude.
When you lifted your gaze back to him, your expression was serene, eyes glimmering with unspoken emotions.
Slowly, you reached up, placing a hand on his neck and gently pulling his face closer. Without hesitation, you leaned in, touching your forehead against his—a significant and intimate gesture but full of affection.
“Thank you,” you murmured, the words carrying layers of meaning, a depth that went beyond the simple gesture. It was gratitude for more than just the necklace—it was for his kindness, his patience, his caring, for seeing you in a way no one else could. For being a safe harbor in this unfamiliar world.
He was taken aback for a moment, the soft touch of your skin against his both surprising and disarming him. But then, a quiet smile forming as he held your gaze, his hand coming up to gently cradle your cheek.
“You’re welcome,” he replied, his voice a gentle murmur, his thumb tracing a light path along your cheekbone.
Your hands lingered on his neck, feeling the softness of its skin and his hair, his own expression melting into something almost vulnerable.
For a long, endless moment, you stayed there, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath, to catch the quiet tenderness in his jade eyes.
Neither of you spoke, letting the silence stretch, filling the room with the weight of implicity emotions. His gaze held yours, steady, and yet within it was a flicker of that deeper, unguarded feeling—a quiet, burgeoning affection that made your heart race.
Time seemed to stand still as you looked into each other’s eyes, a shared warmth weaving between you, a silent promise that neither of you had the words to speak.
And maybe, you didn’t even need it.
[continue...]
#genshin impact#genshin#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#alhaitham#alhaitham x reader#mermaid#[✦ fantasy beauties!verse ✦]
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5. “Ah Yes. Betrayl, I’m Familiar With That”
22. “You’re My Best Friend” Angst Pleaseee
🫂❤️🩹
21. "You're my best friend"
I've actually already done prompt 5 (read wasps here) and prompt 21 ("You're my best friend" is 21 not 22), so I just did an angsty prompt 21 instead of redoing both- I hope that's okay! <3
Season 4 spoilers kind of? Just episode 1 vibes.
Promise - prompt 21
JJ Maybank was designed for you to fall in love with him. It ran deeper than his looks; penetrated through the flesh. His personality was interwoven with his beauty the way his veins lined his muscles and skin. All the idiosyncrasies that made him up in flaws and faults, like his recklessness and his impulsiveness, were nothing but charms in your eyes. He caused trouble wherever he went the way a hurricane accidentally leaves a wake in its path. You chased that trouble like a storm chaser: compass and map and get-away car at hand, just for him.
By the wonder of fate, you ended up by his side. It was as though the universe placed you there - as if you and JJ were born from the same star dust, destined to find one another in the next life. From childhood, you were in the picture. Offering him a place to stay when his dad was in one of his blind, drunk rages. Giggling through pier jumping adventures and screaming through cheesy horror flicks. Later, older, he was there after your first “heartbreak” and you were there to hear about his cunning escapades with a random girl on the island, his virginity no longer a mark on his name. And with this age came realisations and ramifications. With this age came thoughts and feelings that were new and alien to you. The kind that warps one’s perception. The kind that frames someone in new ways under new titles. JJ Maybank went from being your snotty, scheming long-lasting friend, into your crush. The more time you spent in his orbit, the closer you were drawn. And so, as designed, you fell in love with him.
He was hard to read and harder to decipher. A flirt, no doubt, though less so as the Pogue-centred adventures grew. His carelessness diminished somewhat when the stakes grew. When the sight of blood and dead bodies became shy of the norm, even compared to his youth in his father’s shadow. John B and Sarah went and with that, JJ came. Closer to you than ever. Needing you more than before. Restless nights and lonely days which you were more than happy to fill, needing him just as much. Nothing beyond cuddles and shared beds. A kiss that never strayed more than a cheek or forehead. Then, reunited with the formerly missing Pogues, came his lightness once more. But that distance didn’t come: he was still just as close. Almost attainable. Poguelandia and El Dorado felt like fever dreams in this light. The one constant was JJ, no matter what, and you the same for him.
Now, settled, JJ’s old Maybank home rebuilt and remade, the bait-and-surf shop up and running, the gang tethered together through trauma and triumph: you finally felt like everything was falling into place, the same way you had fallen for JJ.
“I might just sleep out here tonight,” JJ tells you. He’s lying by your side on the newly fixed up boat. The two of you are staring up at the sky, slowly starting to fill with stars, slowly losing the colour of daylight.
“You’ll be dinner for the skeeters,” you say.
He shrugs. “Circle of life, I guess.”
Laughing quietly, you turn your head. His hair is short again - dirty blonde, sunkissed highlights. The small jut of his chin and the slope of his nose. The high press of his cheekbones from his small, lingering smile. At the feel of your gaze, he turns his head too. An air of amusement brushes over him; has him almost laughing, quirking a brow.
“What?”
“Nothing,” you hum. Your own smile falters and your stomach churns. The words are brewing deep within you like a slow, roasting broth. They’d been there for years now, waiting to slip out, and you felt like you can’t hold it down much longer. JJ’s own smile fades into a look of worry, mirroring your own anxiety.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you repeat, lying. “I just…I’m just happy.”
His lips twitch upward again. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’m happy you finally have a home, JJ,” you quietly say.
Visibly moved by your sentiment, his hand reaches out for yours, lying limp on the cool plastic exterior of the boat. He squeezes your hand in his. Smiles at you. Holds your gaze. As if drawn in by some outside force, you lean over. Your eyes slip shut and your lips find his, and there, you plant a gentle, soft kiss. It’s no more than a peck. No more than a fleeting, almost phantom moment of weakness. Lingering, lips no more than a centimetre from his, you wait. Wait for some absolution that you hoped might come.
JJ clears his throat. His hand slips from yours. Your heart cracks like the break of an ice surface as he sits up, sort of hurried. You sit up too.
“What’s wrong?” you ask, knowing fully well what the answer is.
JJ is reaching for his boots that he took off an hour or so ago. He meddles with the laces. Not looking at you, he mumbles, “why’d you have to do that?”
“What?”
“Everything was…God, why the fuck did you have to do that?” he repeats, frustrated, maybe even angry.
Your eyes sting and your heart burns and it starts to feel as though you’re slipping away from yourself. “I don’t know. I just…I just figured–”
“--Well, you shouldn’t have,” JJ snaps, his head darting up. Your eyes meet his and there’s this panic there, deep and damning. You feel damned.
“I’m sorry,” you say. Sorry for what? For kissing him? For thinking that he might feel the same? For hoping that he might?
JJ shakes his head and looks back at his boots. His frantic movements stop, fingers mixed with his laces. “Why’d you have to do that, huh? Everything was finally how it should be and now…Now it’s all messed up.”
“Messed up? No, no, it doesn’t…We can just forget about it,” you hurriedly say. You grab at his forearm, wanting his attention, now for a whole new reason. “We can just pretend it never happened.”
“Why’d you do it?”
“I don’t know. I just thought that maybe, with everything that’s happened, maybe you might feel the same way,” you stammer.
JJ’s eyes slip shut. It’s as though you gave him the diagnosis to a disease he always dreaded. “We can’t.”
You’re not sure what he’s alluding to with that. We can’t pretend it never happened? We can’t move forward? We can’t be friends?
“You’re my best friend,” you whisper. “I don’t want to lose you.”
JJ gnaws at his lower lip. You sit and wait and hope and pray that you haven’t managed to tear apart years of friendship with one stupid moment of idiocy. Ironic how JJ lived his life in spur-of-the-moment choices but the second you make one, it might haunt you forever. Eventually, as if in slow motion, he looks at you. There’s a sadness in his eyes as though he knows what he says will pain you, and your heart takes pause as you wait. His lips move wordlessly at first and then, sighing, he finds the words.
“I’m in love with Kiara.”
You feel like bleeding ink on a page. Like you have no mass or place of purchase. Like any meaning you ascribed to anything is now without, soulless and baseless; a work of fiction, like some Shakesperian tragedy.
“Oh,” you breathe.
He nods. “I…I’m sorry, I just…I don’t feel that way for you.”
“Okay,” you murmur. You think you might throw up. You shift in your spot as if preparing to. JJ reaches out a hand and it burns when he touches yours.
“I don’t want to lose you though. I do love you, but the love I feel for her is different. I’m sorry, I don’t know why, I just–”
“--JJ, please,” you beg. You force yourself to look him in the eyes. He’s terrified of everything. Always has been, as long as you’ve known him. More than anything, terrified of love. And you know what that means, for him to care so deeply for someone. You know that he needs you. And you know that, despite everything, you need him. It hurts to be something but it’s worse to be nothing, after all.
Somewhere deep inside of you, you find a smile. A forced, placid smile, like a lady-in-waiting might wear. Your other hand envelopes his and you will the tears away.
“I’m your best friend,” you assure him. The words are sour like acid on your tongue. It feels like blasphemy. Nodding, as if trying to make yourself believe it too, you say, “we can forget the whole thing.”
A relieved smile comes to JJ’s face like a breath of air after free diving. He leans back, nods, happy, overjoyed, appeased.
“Thank God. Cause I don’t know what I’d do without you. I really don’t,” he says, meaning every word. Maybe that’s what hurts the most.
Nodding, agreeing, you say, “Kiara would be an idiot if she didn’t want you, too.”
Smiling to himself, his head dips, abashed, and you know then and there that he’d never be that way for you. He gets up and as his hand slips form your hold, it feels like you’re losing him forever. Once again, he’s reframed. Different again. No longer your crush, no longer your future, and no longer your best friend. He’s a mirage. He isn’t real. You no longer know what to call him or how to name your connection. Because as he walks away, bidding you goodnight, heading to the house where Kiara sleeps soundly, beautiful and brilliant, you begin to cry, knowing that you would never be able to forget it, and yet knowing that you had to.
JJ Maybank was designed for you to fall in love with him, but he was never designed to love you back.
#jj x reader#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank#jj#obx#outerbanks#outer banks#obx 4#outer banks 4#outerbanks 4#jj maybank season 4#outer banks jj maybank#jj maybank drabble#jj drabble#jj x reader drabble#jj maybank x reader drabble#jj maybank angst#jj x kiara#jiara
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I cannot wait to see Simon struggle with resisting the pull of the crown and beating himself up over his urge to relapse into its influence and let its power carry him away to the point where he loses himself and I cannot wait to see his moments of lucidity where he's disgusted at himself for ever having ceded himself to the crown and I cannot wait to see his following moments of confusion where he's appalled at the notion of ever being away from the crown and I cannot wait to see how his fate as the Ice King in the Adventure Time canon is interwoven into this back and forth and I cannot wait to let the Fionna and Cake creative team ruin me with the concepts of cycles and fate and resistance to cycles and faith and whether or not such resistance is futile or fruitful
Also can't wait to see the godawful repercussions of having a skinny Ice King on screen
#messages from mars#adventure time#simon petrikov#ohh I'm so normal about simon petrikov. I'm so normal about him#my relationship to his character and his conflict is so normal. so so normal.#fucking hell. I'm posting abt fionna and cake. what year is it#fionna and cake
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𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐋
— gojo satoru x fem!oc
MASTERLIST + PROLOGUE
synopsis. in which her political marriage to Satoru Gojo, the world’s most arrogant and untouchable sorcerer becomes the unlikely balm to her festering bloodlust—a union born of duty, yet fated to temper the darkness within her.
bound by power and circumstance, Kurai Sanzu finds that the key to controlling her hunger for vengeance may lie in the very man she vowed to stand beside, even as indifference and unspoken desires pull them into a quiet, dangerous dance beneath the weight of their shared fate.
warnings. graphic violence, murder, blood mentions, disorder eating, implied sexual threats, suggestive themes. tags. gojo x fem!oc, arranged marriage, angst with happy ending, eventual fluff, heavy pining/yearning, emotional detachment. oc is an empath.
chapter one chapter two chapter three chapter four chapter five chapter six chapter seven chapter eight chapter nine chapter ten chapter eleven
taglist. OPEN (comment to be added to taglist!)
MAIN CHARACTERS
Kurai Sanzu, 25 - Cursed Empath
Satoru Gojo, 25 - Limitless Cursed Technique, Six Eyes
Year 2014
Kurai Sanzu stood before the ancestral altar, her gaze steady but hollow as she stared at the man beside her. The heavy weight of the ceremony pressed down on her, but her face remained expressionless, her posture rigid. The intricate folds of her bridal kimono, shimmering with the interwoven colors of the Sanzu and Gojo clans, felt suffocating against her skin.
Satoru Gojo, the so-called strongest jujutsu sorcerer alive, stood next to her, exuding the same insufferable, effortless confidence he always had. His ceremonial haori, adorned with the proud insignia of the Gojo clan, hung perfectly on his broad shoulders.
Since childhood, this moment had loomed over her like an inevitable storm—an event orchestrated not by love or choice, but by the cold machinations of power and politics. An arranged marriage to bind two of the clans in the jujutsu world. The Sanzu clan, desperate to salvage their dwindling influence, had offered her up like a pawn, a tool for their own survival. Kurai knew she was disposable to them. The 'useless heiress', born without the prized mind-reading ability her bloodline cherished.
And to Satoru? Kurai doubted she even registered as more than a footnote in his list of responsibilities.
She shifted her gaze toward him, who seemed utterly detached, his blue eyes glazed with boredom as he observed the ceremony with barely veiled disinterest. His signature arrogance radiated off him in waves, that air of untouchability that surrounded him like a second skin.
'Arrogant bastard,' Kurai thought. She didn't expect him to care—about her, about this marriage, about anything beyond his next mission. But his indifference only fueled the fire of her bitterness. To him, this was just another show, another symbol of his superiority. And now she was bound to him, not through choice, but through necessity.
As the elders from both clans chanted the ancient rites, invoking the spirits to seal their union with cursed energy, Kurai felt the weight of the attention upon her. The Sanzu clan elders, in particular, radiated relief—finally, their useless heiress was no longer their problem. She could feel their emotions like a storm pressing against her senses. The smug satisfaction, the quiet disdain. It wasn't even subtle.
But Kurai refused to acknowledge them, refused to give them the satisfaction of knowing how much their indifference had wounded her over the years. Her expression remained as still as a porcelain doll's, though her fingers trembled slightly under the weight of the ceremony.
As the chants drew to a close, the elders stepped forward and placed a shimmering cord of cursed energy around their intertwined hands. The cord pulsed, glowing faintly, infused with the power of both their clans. Kurai flinched slightly as she felt the overwhelming surge of Satoru's cursed energy flood into her senses. It was like being submerged in an ocean, the sheer magnitude of his power pressing down on her, threatening to drown her.
But then, something flickered in the torrent of energy. Curiosity. Satoru's gaze slid toward her, and his lips curled into a familiar, lazy smile. He looked at her as if the entire ceremony was some fleeting amusement. Kurai didn't bother returning the smile. She had long since learned not to trust his expressions. His playful demeanor was nothing more than a mask—a shield to hide whatever lay beneath.
Not that it mattered. She didn't care enough to dig deeper.
The cursed energy surged between them, swirling in an ethereal light as the binding cord glowed brighter, intertwining their powers. Satoru's Infinity shimmered faintly, a reminder of the barrier that always separated him from the rest of the world, even now, at the most intimate of ceremonies. Kurai's cursed energy intertwined with his, a bright blend of red and purple, the two energies merging in a fleeting dance of light.
For a brief moment, Satoru's expression shifted. His eyes widened slightly, just enough for Kurai to catch it—a spark of genuine surprise, maybe even awe. It was fleeting, but it was there, like a child witnessing something extraordinary for the first time.
The elders completed the ritual, the cursed cord dissipating into the air as their union was solidified. Kurai stood beside Satoru, her hand still loosely intertwined with his, though the contact felt as cold and distant as ever. The Gojo clan elders bowed deeply before them, their reverence for Satoru palpable. To them, he was more than just a clan head—he was a god in human form, the pinnacle of strength, the symbol of their pride.
And yet, Satoru barely acknowledged them. His gaze drifted lazily over their bowed heads, the same detached look on his face as if he had long grown bored of their constant praise. It was sickening, watching them fawn over him as though he were their savior.
Kurai's own clan elder, Botan, stepped forward for the blessing. His presence grated against her senses, his emotions radiating disgust and simmering resentment. Kurai's fingers twitched with the urge to smirk. She relished the taste of his hatred, let it seep into her bones like a toxic elixir. After all, it was this same elder who had cast her aside as a child, branding her the clan's disappointment.
Now, here he was, bowing before her.
Botan's voice was cold and flat as he recited the customary blessing. His words echoed through the temple, hollow and insincere.
"May the clarity of thoughts and the depth of understanding bind your souls..."
Clarity of thoughts? Kurai nearly laughed. The Sanzu clan, so proud of their mind-readers, was nothing but a shell of its former self. Most of them were dead, including her mother, who had died bringing Kurai into this world. 'Such clarity,' she mused bitterly. The only clarity Kurai sought was revenge, and this marriage was a stepping stone to that end.
When it came time for the exchange of cursed objects, Satoru moved first. He produced a finely crafted ring from the Gojo clan, humming with the unmistakable signature of their cursed energy. The craftsmanship was flawless, every detail intricate, and when Satoru slid the ring onto her finger, Kurai felt the pulse of its power.
His touch lingered on her hand, his fingers curling around hers in a silent challenge, as if waiting for her to break, to react, to give him something.
But Kurai met his gaze coolly, her face a blank mask. She yanked her hand free from his grip without a word, slipping from his hold with practiced ease.
In exchange, she handed him an heirloom of her own—a weathered dagger, old but deadly sharp, its blade gleaming under the dim light. It had seen blood before, and if Kurai had her way, it would see more. Satoru accepted it with a flicker of amusement in his eyes, his fingers brushing the blade lightly before he tucked it away with a smirk.
The master of the ceremony's voice boomed across the temple as they turned to face the gathered clans, their hands interlocked for the final part of the ritual.
"... Satoru, Kurai, this union signifies the melding of your destinies and the obligation you now share. The strength of your combined spirits will shape the course of your futures, and those of your clans..."
Kurai's heart thudded in her chest, the weight of his words sinking in. 'Shape the course of your futures and those of your clans.' She'd always known it, but hearing it spoken aloud made it feel more real.
This wasn't just a ceremony. This wasn't just a formality.
This was power.
Kurai almost smiled, but she forced it down, knowing too many eyes were on her. As she suppressed the grin, she accidentally tugged Satoru's hand a little too hard, earning a raised eyebrow from him. He glanced at her with silent curiosity, a smirk playing at his lips.
She quickly let go of the tension in her grip, her face as unreadable as ever, but inwardly, her mind was racing. This marriage might be a burden to him, but to her, it was an opportunity.
And she would make sure to use it.
< prologue ends >
© CANDYEAGER. do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my works in any other platforms.
#divider creds @saradika-graphics#candyeager#candyeagerwrites#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#gojo#gojo fanfic#gojo ff#gojo x oc#gojo satoru fanfic#gojo satoru ff#gojo satoru x oc#satoru gojo fanfic#satoru gojo ff#satoru gojo x oc#gojo fic#gojo satoru fic#satoru gojo fic#jjk#jjk fic#gojo angst#gojo satoru angst#satoru gojo angst#angst#gojo oc#manga#jjk fanfic#gojo fluff#jjk fluff
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the importance of well-written stories
watching Lovely Runner was like watching 4 K-dramas at once lol
well-written stories are so rare, you only understand that when you watch something exceptional. something unique. a once in a lifetime experience of watching it for the very first time.
this show gave me so many feelings. in truth, it was an experience. I'm glad I put aside my fear of sad endings and watched as it aired. for once, I took the leap and discovered that's exactly what this drama wanted me to learn.
usually, after finishing really good K-dramas or stories in general, I hit a slump where I cannot function. everything feels dull and boring. a different kind of grief at realising this was just fictional.
but not this time.
all I feel is light and happy. like I'm floating. I want to carry this feeling and runaway. I want to remember how this felt and hold onto it when I get down or get bad days.
lifetimes lived.
Sol was sunlight. bright and unwavering and unforgettable. 💛
living vicariously through Im Sol, from feeling her pain in the beginning to her sunny hope that Sun Jae gave her. all her struggles as she jumped through various lifetimes, loved and lived and loved again. crying with her, laughing with her, rooting for her despite all odds. it was a journey.
beyond her love for Sun Jae, Sol's choices changed her family's life too. they were less hurt and much happier in the future she helped them create. even giving her grandmother a chance to return to the past and relive her fondest memories.
Sun Jae was midnight rain. the comfort of a sudden shower in the middle of summer. 💙
apart from being a complete loser in love, Sun Jae was in love with Sol for a total accumulated time of 45 years.
yep. my reaction exactly ^
I won't lie, when they pulled the "he fell first" trope in Episode 2, I was wary. one, because if the writers were willing to pull such a twist in just the second episode, then who knew what else was in store for us? my guess was pretty spot on, the twists that followed had me gasping and yelling out loud. this show was unpredictable from beginning to end.
and two, because I was worried that Sun Jae's character might get reduced to just him being in love with Im Sol.
in that case, I'm glad to say,
I was completely wrong.
despite Sun Jae's love for Im Sol, he had a grounded personality of his own. whether it was OG Sun Jae (ep 1), who lived in the guilt of what happened to the girl he loved, or Timeline 3 Sun Jae (ep 15), who never fell in love at all, he was positive, kind, decisive and striving to live.
and i love that about him.
for two characters whose stories are so deeply interwoven together, having shaped aspects of each other's lives, Sol and Sun Jae displayed their unique traits exceptionally well as individuals.
I cannot emphasize how happy this makes me. Sun Jae is his own person, Sol is her own person, and they are destined to be together. beyond their desperation for each other's safety and well-being, Sol and Sun Jae are genuinely good people who deserved to be together. even fate and time bent to their will to make it happen.
"As you wait for the rain to stop, live another day."
when a story makes you feel happy, hold onto that feeling. bottle it up. write it down. come back to it on the days the world feels against you and when the times feel too bleak.
fictional though it is, for what it's worth, at least the story exists. it means there are still people out there writing and bringing such stories to life. it means artists and creators like you and I haven't yet forgotten what it's supposed to be like to live. it means there are still people who connect to such stories and learn good things from it.
and as you wait for more such great stories, live another day. perhaps, if you get bored, write the story you want to read.
in the end, it's quite simple.
as for me, I'll be here. crying, laughing, screaming, giggling and kicking my feet while being up to my eyes in second-hand embarrassment (because goodness, these two idiots are COMPLETE LOSERS IN LOVE) throughout these past 8 weeks was the highlight of my year ✨ I will always remember that I watched a beautiful modern fairytale romance in the summer of '24 that reminded me that I was young and full of love to give.
good stories truly do make a difference 🤍
#lovely runner#byeon woo seok#kim hye yoon#ryu sun jae#im sol#kdrama#kdrama edit#kdramagifs#kidnap sun jae and run#tvn#viki#korean drama#they're losers in love your honour#we were all so nervous for the finale#then they off the villain in the first 3 mins lmfao#then it's just 1 hour 15 mins of tooth rotting fluff#i beg your unbelievable pardon#writing#writerblr#fanfic#writing inspiration#creative wrting#writing advice#writer#wattpad#ao3#lovely runner gifs#Spotify#storytelling#gif set credit: xiao lanhua on tumblr
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CURSEBOUND HEART : RYOMEN SUKUNA
In the chaotic world of Jujutsu Kaisen, where sorcerers and curses clash, an unexpected revelation shakes the very foundation of Tokyo Jujutsu High. Satoru Gojo's enigmatic younger sister, Satomi Gojo, harbors a dark secret: she is the reincarnated wife of Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses. When she encounters Sukuna, now residing in the body of Yuji Itadori, memories of a past life surge to the surface, intertwining their fates once more. As old bonds resurface and ancient curses threaten to tear their world apart, Satomi Gojo must navigate a perilous path, balancing her duty as a sorcerer with the haunting echoes of a cursed love. Can she overcome the shadows of her past, or will Sukuna's dark influence consume them all?
CONTENT WARNING!
this fanfiction contains graphic violence, emotional trauma, dark themes, psychological manipulation, strong language, and complex romantic dynamics. Reader discretion is advised.
Including these warnings will help readers understand the nature of the story and decide if it's right for them.
Violence and Gore : The story contains scenes of intense violence and graphic descriptions of battles and injuries.
Emotional Trauma : Characters experience significant emotional distress, including grief, betrayal, and internal conflict.
Dark Themes : The plot involves dark and mature themes, including curses, death, and manipulation.
Psychological Manipulation : Sukuna's influence involves psychological manipulation and mind games.
Mature Language : Strong language and mature dialogue are present throughout the story.
Romantic Tension : The story explores complex and potentially uncomfortable romantic dynamics due to Sukuna's reincarnation.
Flashbacks : Frequent use of flashbacks to a darker past, which may include distressing memories.
CHAPTER TITLES :
0. INTRODUCTION
1. THE HIDDEN CURSE
Introduction of Satomi and the first encounter with Sukuna in Yuji’s body.
2. ECHOES OF THE PAST
Flashbacks to Sukuna’s previous life and his relationship with Satomi, interwoven with present-day events.
3. UNVEILED SECRET
Satomi reveals her past to Satoru and the rest of the team, creating new dynamics and tension.
4. FATEFUL REUNION
Satomi and Sukuna/Yuji confront each other again, leading to a deeper exploration of their connection.
5. WHISPER OF DARKNESS
Sukuna manipulates events to draw out his wife’s cursed energy, revealing more about his sinister plans.
6. BOUND TO FATE
The team faces a powerful curse connected to Sukuna’s past, forcing Satomi to confront her own fears and memories.
7. THE KING'S RETURN
Sukuna’s influence over Yuji grows stronger, leading to a dramatic confrontation with Satomi.
8. SHADOW OF THE HEARTS
Emotional turmoil ensues as Satomi struggles with her feelings for Sukuna and her duty as a sorcerer.
9. THE BROKEN SEAL
A major event causes Sukuna to regain more of his power, putting everyone at risk and testing the bonds between the characters.
10. LEGACY OF CURSES
Satomi makes a critical decision about her role in the battle against Sukuna, setting the stage for the climax.
11. THREADS OF DESTINY
The final confrontation between Sukuna, Yuji, Satomi, and the Jujutsu sorcerers, culminating in a decisive battle.
12. ETERNAL SHADOWS
The aftermath of the battle, exploring the consequences for Satomi, Yuji, and the others, and hinting at future challenges.
This structure provides a solid framework for the story, blending action, emotional depth, and the rich lore of the Jujutsu Kaisen universe.
TAGGING : @bahng @ryumurin @utarts @axeofwars @sparklyhologramstarfish @shuujin @qashmer @dookiemeshibear @cockonoi @tired-writter-club @junslxt @bubacakes @ejwrblog @glads-stuff @ourpastsilences-blog @crayolalili @caulfield-ley @levislui @fenix-why @wifeofnanamikento @diabetic-ace @miniaturechildmusic @diorlov3er @blueeyesboba @kaitrash @manyaya88 @genshinfinatic @rivq @btsblogsthings @mrsgaunt-sallow @space-doie @moonvyx @yeeter-skeeter-b @reiyastrauss @lunarracoon22 @toobytub @molliejames
#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru#sukuna ryomen smut#jujutsu kaisen ryomen#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna#jjk ryomen#sukuna jjk#jujutsu kaisen sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna ryomen#ryomen sukuna fluff#ryomen sukuna smut#ryomen sukuna x you#ryoumen sukuna#sukuna ryomen fluff#gojou satoru x reader#jujutsu kaisen gojo#jujutsu kaisen satoru#jujutsu itadori#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jujutsu kaisen angst#jujutsu kaisen imagine#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jujutsu kaisen x female reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#yuta okkotsu smut
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Out of every single relationship in the Whoniverse, whatever the Doctor and the Master have going on just hits different. Like a rock. I’m sure everyone feels this way about their fave Doctor ship, but my experience is that once you go Thoschei, you cannot go back. Given the narrative symmetry, character foiling, interwoven parallels, tragically dramatic irony, frustratingly unspeakable ambiguous romance that defies traditional ship canonization in the true chaotic spirit of Doctor Who, and a unique backstory setup that allows the characters to have history that other individuals cannot match, while fate (and the format of the show) pushes them together over and over again indefinitely, without hope of lasting reconnection lest the setup break, the Doctor and Master’s codependent anti-soulmate life or death partnership arguably (narratively) cheapens every other pairing beyond comparison. Their tragedy never leaves you. (And keeps you up at night)
#everyone else is in a space opera or spy thriller and Thoschei are in a Greek tragedy#no thoughts only Thoschei#frey’s timey wimey whovian era#I’m really new here but FUCK they gobbled me brains like a flesh eating infection#Thoschei#doctor/master#doctor who#is Thoschei technically canon? yes. does it still feel like a fever dream? yes#if they ever kiss (romantically) again it will send the world into shock and frenzy#Twissy#spydoc#tensimm#etc.#and by cheapen every other pairing I mean ‘best pairing to study in a literature circle”#not “the Doctor’s relationship with the master is their most important” although -#aka I think they’ve got the best combination of concept and execution
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Eddie's hands don't shake as he buttons up Steve's shirt. He's helped Steve get dressed for enough years to hide the yearning that flows through the veins in his body instead of blood, making his heart beat faster. Still, he indulges. Lets his fingers brush over Steve's shoulders, chest, stomach under the excuse of smoothing out the fabric.
Sometimes, on days when his feelings for Steve are so strong that his entire body aches enough to almost force him to his knees, Eddie allows himself the little illusion that Steve is leaning into these soft touches. That he holds back a whine when Eddie's hands don't linger. That maybe Steve yearns just as much to let his hands brush over Eddie's body. But Eddie knows better.
Today isn't a day for daydreams wrapped in a pink hue. Today will leave him lying in his small servant chamber next to Steve's luxurious bedroom, curled up with his knees pressed into his chest, hoping the faint pressure of the closest thing to a hug he can get will ease the pain. Today is another soulmate match ball.
Eddie does his best to keep in a sigh as he helps Steve into a dark navy blue vest that matches the mask covering Steve's eyes perfectly. It's made out of soft velvet and interwoven with a golden pattern, a satin band tying it in an intricate bow at the back of Steve's head. It's just as breathtakingly beautiful as Steve. Eddie's plain, black cotton mask looks even more cheap compared to Steve's. A constant reminder of their places.
Not that Steve would ever act appropriately for their places. Eddie might help him get dressed and fetch his food but back when they were nothing but kids they spend days playing together, arms slung around each other before their parents had torn them apart. Servant boys and princes weren't friends. But that had never stopped Steve to treat Eddie like one. They couldn't touch with the simple affection like they used to when they were little. But they still spend the majority of their time together, fencing, reading, riding, walking, talking. They come as a set pair. Eddie knows Steve trusts him more than his own advisers. It doesn't make dealing with all the love Eddie has for Steve or soulmate matching balls any easier.
Eddie takes his time today, works slower than usual. Because the moment he is done, Steve will walk through the doors into the ballroom and meet with potential soulmates. They'll dance, they'll laugh and at the end one of them will reach up and be able to pull on the band of Steve's mask, loosening the bow and taking the mask off, getting a better look at Steve's beautiful hazel eyes.
The masks act as a guard, eyes are the windows to your soul after all and only your soulmate should be able to remove that guard and see you, truly see all of you. It's not the first soulmate match ball. Steve has been to plenty. Excited at first, always eager and hoping, always returning with his mask still on and his heart a little cracked. Eddie aches for Steve every time, he does want Steve to be happy and in love.
But one small, ugly, selfish part can't help but sing a little bit with joy when Steve returns, mask still glued to his face by fate. The selfish part that wants Steve to be his, that is arrogant enough to believe he could easily remove Steve's mask. "Are you ready?" he asks once he has helped Steve into his last piece of clothing. He looks stunning and Eddie can already feel his throat close up.
"Not really," Steve mutters. "Don't think my soulmate is going to be there. And even if they were I don't..." he trails off and shakes his head.
He looks sad, defeated and that selfish part inside of Eddie shrinks.
"I just...I think soulmates are bullshit," Steve suddenly says with such bitterness Eddie stumbles surprised for a second. He knows Steve wants to be loved, has dreamed about meeting his soulmate since they were kids. This does not sound like him at all.
"What if I know exactly what I want?" Steve continues and suddenly looks directly into Eddie's masked eyes. "Who I want? That I don't care whether they are my soulmate or not because I don't think I will ever be able to love anyone the way I love them?"
It hurts, it hurts so badly like Steve decided to push his hand between Eddie's vertebrae like a knife, close his fingers around Eddie's heart and crush it to dust. Steve is in love. Eddie doesn't even know who it could be, being left in the dark about this by his best friend who usually trusts him blind hurts almost worse. Still, Eddie knew this day would come and he tries to keep it together until Steve is gone. A strand of hair has come loose during Steve's little passionate speech.
"Then I hope you'll be happy together," Eddie whispers and reaches out to tug the strand of hair behind Steve's ear.
He usually never touches Steve's hair. Too intimate, too close to his mask. But Eddie can't help this last, small indulgence. His fingers do accidentally brush against the satin band though and the moment his skin touches the fabric, just for a second, just the faintest bit, the bow loosens and the mask slips off Steve's face. Both of them let out a gasp.
This can't be, this isn't...Eddie barely touched the mask. Not that it matters. Steve just made it loud and clear that he doesn't care about soulmates, that he loves someone else. Steve looks down at the mask and then back up at Eddie before he lets out a little laugh.
"Really? All I had to do was complain a little to get the universe to comply?" His voice is filled with delight, not mockery as Eddie had feared. Comply? But that would mean...
"I'm so glad it is you, wanted it to be you," Steve whispers as he steps closer. "May I? Please, Eddie?" He asks and lifts his hands up to Eddie's mask.
This must be a dream Eddie decides, all he can do is nod. Steve's hands tremble as he brushes his fingers along the black band. Just like with his mask, it takes the faintest touch for Eddie's mask to slip off his face.
"Always knew your eyes would be beautiful," Steve whispers, gently cradling Eddie's hand in his face.
"Your's too," Eddie rasps, still not quite convinced that this is actually happening.
But then he finds Steve's hazel eyes and he sees it, sees it in the depth of Steve's soul, the core of his being, the tendons of his heart: Love. So, so so much love. It's him. It's always been him. Steve is in love with him. Eddie knows Steve must see the same in his eyes because all he does is smile, besotted, thumb tenderly brushing over Eddie's cheek.
"Can I kiss you?" he asks and all Eddie can do is still only nod before he closes the distance, his lips fitting perfectly against Steve's.
Safe to say that Eddie doesn't curl up all miserable in his small chamber that night. Instead, he spends it in a large bed held in the arms of the man he loves and who loves him back. His soulmate. And not even Steve's parents can tear them apart. Fate wouldn't have it.
#steddie#steddie fic#steddie ficlet#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve x eddie#steddie fanfic#steddie fanfiction#eddie munson fic#steve harrington fic#my writing
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Lesbians talking about their ex:
Ok so from what I understand in my life experience
Straight ppl talking about their ex: Man they were so much better than you Richer prettier understood me I cant believe I would leave them for you who treats me like shit
Gay ppl talking about their ex: Yeah so they tied me up in a cage and left me over a bed of sharks to rot as they shot me with arrows so I could bleed faster fuck them ig
#Its either “They were interwoven in my fate and I let them go and its all my fault they are gone”#Or “They were the worst thing to have ever happened to me and my entire life and every nanoliter of blood in my body#cannot summate to a fraction of a fraction of pure spite I feel for them“#Bonus points if its both#The toxic on/off situationship that has you acting fucking mentally insane in the club
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//long rambles ahead!
I think what really lingers with me about MDZS is that it's not a novel with a cathartic ending at all. It's a bittersweet story that leaves you slightly hollow. Yes, it's a beautiful and epic romance. It's a piece of social commentary interwoven with a love story and murder mystery. It's a cautionary tale. But it is also very much a tragedy. It's a story about being too late, second chances, and moving on.
By the time the truth of everything JGY and JGS did comes to light, it's 13 years too late. Everything that mattered has already happened. Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan are long dead. Jin Ling is still an orphan. Wen Ning is dead, and sometime in the future, his death will be permanent. Wen Qing was burned to death at the stake for no fault of her own. Nie Mingjue has already spent ten years in a no-doubt agonizing state of un-death, and Lan Xichen will have to bear the guilt of loving both Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao, and by doing so, forsaking them both. Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng's once-close bond is irrevocably broken, and the woman who sowed the seeds of resentment when they were still children will never face the consequences of her vitriol.
People sometimes say MXTX was too hard on the side characters, and only gave the Wangxian a happy ending, but what stuck with me after finishing the story is how… sad things are. Yes, Wangxian finally get the happy ending they've deserved for nearly 20 years - but at the same time, it's not a happy ending where the people who've wronged them get the consequences they deserve.
Wei Wuxian will spend the rest of his life haunted by guilt and loss, over what happened to Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan, over the loss of the Wen remnants. The rest of his years won't even be lived in the body his parents gave him.
Lan Wangji will spend the rest of his years wondering if he'd chosen to stand with Wei Wuxian when it mattered - would his son have had to grow up without his birth family?
Nie Huaisang is left wondering if his brother had been a little less trusting and had never taken Meng Yao in as a Nie deputy, would his brother have died a less wretched death? Would he have been forced to stoop to ruthless machinations and manipulations to seek some semblance of justice?
Wen Ning will have to live with the knowledge that if he'd been a little less kind, if he'd let Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng die that fateful day - his family would still be alive. The Wens would've won the war; Wen Qing might've even succeeded Wen Ruohan.
No one really gets the ending they deserve. MDZS isn't a story where good people get happy endings, and bad people get their dues. Sure, Jin Guangyao's crimes are revealed and he faces the consequences of his actions. But what about the people who stood by and made him into a monster? If anything, the side characters and antagonists who survive get better than they deserve. The real villain of MDZS - society - will never face retribution. Those cultivators who always believed in their own bigotry and righteousness over and over again, will never face justice.
Do you think those cultivators and the public will ever feel any regret for the innocent people they condemned to death in their own prejudice and blind self-righteousness? Do you think the people who gathered at Nightless City to call for Wei Wuxian's death considered for one second that he was the biggest reason they won the war? When the cultivators who sacked the Wen settlement at the Burial Mounds threw the bodies of the Wens into the blood pool, do you think that was a sign of shame?
Do you think Jiang Cheng will ever regret leading a siege on a small settlement of innocent farmers? Do you think he's haunted by condemning to death the same people whom he owes his life to?
Do you think those people like Yao-zongzhu will ever feel an ounce of remorse for so easily believing rumours and hearsay, and spreading speculation and vitriol about innocent people?
Do you think that unnamed cultivator out there will ever lose a single minute of sleep over smashing in Wen Popo's head?
In the years that follow, Wen Ning will have apologized a hundred times for lives he did not take, crimes he did not commit, because of the name he bears. People, both in-universe, and even readers, will condemn him for actions he could not help, for doing the right thing. But did Jiang Cheng ever apologize for killing his family? Did the Jins ever apologize for their horrific treatment of people in the labour camps?
People will continue to demand that Wei Wuxian apologize for causing the deaths of their friends and family. But how is Wei Wuxian meant to do that? No one ever apologized to him for taking his family away. No one ever apologized for condemning the Wen Remnants to death for crimes they took no part in. The Wens were his family too.
There's so much potential for bitterness and corruption in MDZS. Instead of saving everyone, Wei Wuxian could've stood aside and let the people who tried to kill him die. MDZS could've been a story of succumbing to hatred and grief, but it wasn't. MXTX could've gone on and on about how society wronged the protagonist, but she didn't. The narrative is one of forgiveness and moving beyond past grievances. The story chose to close the story on a positive note. I truly love that aspect of MDZS, where MXTX leaves just enough room for hope and love at the end.
A-Yuan will finally get his closure about the family he lost as a toddler. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian get their happy ending together after being separated by nearly two decades by war, miscommunication, cruelty, and death.
Wei Wuxian will never regret protecting survivors of an attempted genocide, because it was the right thing to do.
And Wen Ning will still stand in the way and take a fatal blow meant for Jin Ling, despite everything the Jins and Jiang Cheng did to the people he loved.
Because they chose love. Characters like Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning and Lan Wangji have the chance to move on and live a happier life because when they could've succumbed to hurt and fury and resentment, they chose to be kind and do the right thing. Wangxian get their happy ending because they learn to recognize the toxicity of the cultivation society's self-cannibalizing prejudice, and chose to pursue righteousness above personal benefit.
MDZS isn't a story about good people getting good things. Just look at what happened to Xiao Xingchen. There's really nothing satisfying or cathartic about everyone's fates at all. There's no promise about society facing the consequences of their mob mentality or Wangxian actually changing the world together. Even in TGCF, for all its makings of a love story, we get the promise of societal change once Jun Wu is deposed.
It has all the makings to be a tragedy or tale of vengeance of epic proportions - but instead, it's a love story. It's a story about making the best of what you've got, and staying true to yourself and your morals, even if that's sometimes a bitter pill to swallow. It's a story where everything that could go wrong went wrong, but the characters still managed to fight their way to a better ending by choosing kindness. At its core, MDZS is a testament to choosing compassion over cruelty no matter how tragic and hopeless life gets, no matter how long the journey gets. Even though the happy ending is more personal and only applies to the specific characters, even though we don't actually get the promise of their society becoming a better place - we still have the hope that Wei Wuxian's second chance brings. The hope that sometimes, no matter how cruel the world is, some people who deserve it still get their happy endings. That's what makes MDZS such a memorable work of art. That's why it stays with you.
#mdzs#wei wuxian#lan wangji#nie huaisang#jiang cheng#wen ning#musings#Can you tell I really love the narratives MDZS took?#tragedies#mdzs thoughts
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“Thank you.”
The words are gentle—soft as a lullaby—a lyrical utterance that doesn’t disturb the moon’s lonely watch over the velvet sky. But the stars don’t reach you; your bedroom is a haven cocooned in darkness, your body wrapped in the embrace of your love. No tragedy can tear at the silk of this blissful moment or cut the threads of your fate, helplessly interwoven. His chilly lips graze your forehead.
“Thank you,” Choso repeats, even quieter.
You can’t see his face: the ripened plum of his gaze, the striking gash across the bridge of his nose, and the plump curve of his lower lip are lost in the pitch. But his visage is embroidered in the fabric of your heart. You know his eyes are closed, his hair a shadowy halo against the pillow. He presses a kiss to your head, lingering. It’s another thank you—silent, this time. And sweeter. You can almost taste it.
A chuckle tumbles from your lips and you crane your head upward as though you can see him. “Why are you thanking me?”
His strong arms tighten around you; he pulls you closer, nearly on top of himself, then dips down to speak into your ear. “I want to say ‘for everything’ even though it sounds…silly,” he admits. His breath is hot—alive—and it makes you tremble. “But mostly, I want to thank you for loving me.”
“Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” you murmur. You nestle against his chest, umber hair tickling your cheek. Choso tangles his legs with yours and runs a cool palm up and down your back.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
The shroud of midnight is ephemeral, but your love stretches it out, makes it burst at the seams.
#this is kinda cheesy and idk what it’s getting at…#it’s something of a rumination on love#༄ kae writes#choso <3#choso x reader#choso fluff
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Fellas is it gay to put your very mind and soul into the same stone vessel as your fate interwoven partner in shaping the world who has been there for you for like 80 years who you've continuously shaped the world with, trying and failing to call him by his true name as you suffer an agonizing death, thinking only of putting your soul into it, and yet wishing that you could ask him to come with you, but thankfully you don't have to because they comes of their own free will?
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couples activities you can do WITHOUT getting elf married
holding hands chastely under the stars
singing and songwriting
intense eye contact
the crossing of swords (literal)
the crossing of swords (metaphorical, in this case to referring to a meeting of wits -- a flirtation so intense and all-consuming there is something to it of a battle)
mutual daydreaming
unrequited daydreaming
blowjobs (drunk)
the exchanging of flowers
the exchanging of jewels
the exchanging of finely-cut swords
the exchanging of words about flowers, or jewels, or swords, which after a certain point cease to concern the aforementioned jewels, or flowers, or swords and which indeed dip by implication but never direct mention into obscenity
uncertain and possibly disastrous alliances for the good of the people
nonsexual bondage
fingering and heavy petting
chess
invoking the name of eru while fully clothed in different corners of the room
embarking on a quest (with all hopes of good fortune)
embarking on a quest (certainly doomed)
dressmaking; beyond that, even embroidery and perhaps crochet
regicide
whatever it is lesbians do
debates re: the philosophical nature of love and marriage
debates re: the fates of elves and men, paths destined forevermore to part
most instances of blood donation
intercrural sex, so long as all due caution is employed
eye contact, brief, wavering
impotent and entirely futile declarations of everlasting love
holding hands, no longer so chaste -- feeling as though every sensation in your body is reduced to the single point where your hands brush together, that your soul is anchored to the core of the earth only by your interwoven fingers
the crossing of swords (the swords are dicks)
farewells, with earnest promises to meet again
farewells, without
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before the flora.
knight!ellie x princess!reader teaser. beginning is essentially just lore. bonus excerpt with ellie and princess interaction below the sketch. wrote the intro in january. no warnings tbh. illustration by @trackinglessons :P READ THIS . PALESTINE MASTERPOST
When the universe was born, there was only fire; a slowly waning blaze. And so hence when death begins to unfurl its low, groaning bloom— there will only be ice.
Yet the heavens and earth are nay alike, as death— and life, are interwoven by the timeless nuptial that is humans, and Mother Nature. Cordial and tepid heartbeats meet with her frigid and frightening marrow this season. Flakes are falling, a howl swells in the wind, and hearths stay an undying tongue of flame in the province of Istenad. Isle of riches and hedonism gone rampant amongst those who proved meritful of a conversation spat over gilded chalices. Or those who wiped a famished tongue stroke over the sole of His Majesty— The King's tan leather boots in entreat, declaring the hide a tenfold more gullet–watering than their stale, daily spare of bread. Where high life reins, low life is there to scrub their steeds.
The wintry pearlescent tundra fringing around uncharted woodlands hums your name— it carries by gale, an airy reed of vowels pulled through your ears.
Tut, tut, tut, the pecking of bark.
Everything seems to resound much heavier over the windows thick limestone sill. Woodwinds, the sough of pine boughs— a chorus wafted. Woodpeckers, they beat rigid timber with their sonnets of calling. The echoed tut starts to sound awfully kindred to a beckoning call of your name. And at daybreak, when the tangerine sun dips its head under the coast, you feel a magnetic lull to traverse your truest passions and slip away into the night, arctic chilled steel in hand. The quantity of hay sticking beneath your shoes collected by skittering across the night–doused thoroughfare was well enough to concern your maids on duty to dress you, brows fuddled at the streaming of straw near your door come morning.
Loop of your knuckles, bend of your wrist, a hand flexed on the hilt of a meticulously poached sword. A swing 'round your waist, a cold hale grip the air could taste, fighting off many mythic brutes of moonlight, however only conceived where dreams are airtight. The mind, it plays. The play it perceives, a viewing spread like tawny butter. Ghouls and ghastlies encircle a quaint pond, chanting away in cryptic grumbles and beastly bumbles, enraged with their slobber frothing at the fangs you tore from their sockets— deeper than artless, juxtaposed to the blinding ruby reds and dyed paper sunflowers of the theater. Your mind’s play felt real.
Unfortunate to your heart, dreams will stay dreams.
Nary a princess was meant to tune into melee, especially at your courting age. Nevertheless, your psyche has spurned from what a maiden is expected of and is completely in a haven of your own structure, your signature sanctuary.
In the farmsteads, a forthcoming soldier harvests not just crop— but dexterity. Derived and nurtured in the faraway prairie village of Dunwich, where the fertile seasons prove flaxen of corn and the trickling sweat of every farmhand turns to gold. Any newborn granted to this quaint village is fated to form calloused hands with labor written in their palm lines as time unfolds. In their— well, her— adolescent years, the yearning for practices of gallantry in knighthood swiveled her sights to the colossal stone castle way.. way far away. Sprouting beyond the earth line, far as the eye can see.
So, she learned, she trained, she slept, partaking in a ranged cycle taught by her ruthlessly departed father: Sir Joel. Reprisal became her nemesis; never able to rend the barrier of hesitation and cleanse her shut eyes of revolting imagery. The horseman of death was not omitting the trauma of this hazel-haired soldier. A weight so burdensome, her speckled skin remembers the tales of every scar clawed into it. Like how the lips of a bard cling to an everlasting ballad.
Every knight knew well to exile any lingering ties to the past. It's been years since he passed, she understands that. Though, the heart never lies, and certainly never covets forgetting.
Ambitions stemming from legions of knights in waiting have fallen short, submerging within the moat of the castle and sinking deep into the catacombs with no elegy sung. An allegory for dreams long since vanished. A domain so valued longs for those biding life with rigid bones, such as she. Tempered by the hardships, endured like metal meeting the blacksmith's chisel.
A vividness to her movements, flowing like a river. For it is water that soothes the most cosmic fires, carves veins into the earth's soil, descends from the heavens above and proves iron soluble. A knight so pinpoint and poised like a painter, yet so daring and baneful like a warrior of evenfall. An artisan of her craft, this knight-to-be is. Born to thrive in matters regarding protection of their kingdom and its nobility. By the sheer tenacity of her skill, she will excel. From the self–instructed lessons in a verdant pasture, basked by undying light in her hometown— to the ordained priming within the royal court.
They were forged to be dutiful.
You are a daughter of the illustrious King, Sagard, and swan–grace queen, Sagard— maiden name Adela, and sister of your highly revered and cherished kin, Prudence. Subsequent to her fabled rise, was your fall. A pratfall you plainly turned a serene ear from, for you foresaw its coming. Clandestine adventures and lollygagging in the marketplace earned you right in the clasp of consequences. You knew that, knowing it kept you on the balls of your toes before you'd be caught suiting into an act more repugnant— be it, no.. befogging yourself in a peasant boys' dire–in–muck rags, merely to play "boy" games as a young one?
Sacrilege!
Prudence was there, at every occasion, scolding with her youthful finger at the palace fore, sucking her fingertip wet of spit and dragging a stroke over your soot–strewn cheek, just before scuttling the halls in search of father, cawing, “Father, Father! My sisters become a boy again!” until it rang his fucking ears to a pulse. Hmph, father even countered his own remark of squawk, pouring through the walls, “Hah! The second son I wish I reared! Tell me, what peasants skin does she clad: butcher's boy, or of the farmer?”
Rebuking the role of royalty isn't your entire bastion of vengeance. You purely long for a world of your own color. Your self-brewn arcadia of art. In a concise phrase, desire for sovereignty. And your family chastised you curtly for every scant display of free will, short of the Queen, she is fair.
Daughter of the King, Princess of the thicket. You retain your fortunes. Modestly.
“Why don't you resemble your sister more?”
A ruby crested box designed by the best of goldsmiths is lodged at the margin of your beds footboard, safekeeping of your esteemed regalia. You possess a bedazzled amassing of circlets, veils, brocade and velvet tunics of long lengths within this box. But do any of them revel in the blessing of being worn on regal skin? Never. You opted for garbs of less gilding and jewels, so that you might taint it with whatever adventures mold under the ribbing of your foot. That shit offended your skin with its indelicacy of forgetting a human will don its fabric golds and woven jewels.
Even— court gatherings. You don the likeness of simplicity and temperate elegance. This morning's virginal aurora, a broach of light swoll from the windows arch, to the footing of your bed, made the wake of your eyes begin upon a lighting behind sheer skin. Your box of regalia shone in that incandescence momentarily. It danced, fleeter than you, irkingly so. You had to squint whilst flipping the clasps and hauling the heavy lid slanted against your bed, or else you may be heaven–blinded. “Every inch of Princess,” you intoned in quietude at the sight of glamored fabrics, “—whom I shant mirror.” and reached for the homelier fabrics, scratch of cobalt-blue linen delight brushing under your prints, you grasped your reserve tight.
“I was not made aware that there is a village wedding to be, dear sister— from what river does this dress of rags hail from?”
“It is not a brides dress, nor rags, leave me Prud—”
Prudence had blocked the shut of your chamber door with her hand flattened, pursuing, “You glum your gems. Rotting in that chest, tasting no light, no glory.”
You kept your lips thickly sown shut, casting dimly eyes to the ground.
“Shall I send for the steward so he may sell—”
“No need.”
“Hmm, most stubborn, are we? Then I—”
“I am least stubborn,” you wedged your fingers beneath her palm, prying the door loose, “—it is you, who strays your own counsel, unmoving as a mountain.” ending with the trudging shut of your door, ceasing in silence.
[++ bonus excerpt from act 2, scene 1]
“Uh–huh..” she draws out. Legato; a sarcastic reply, and wipes her tongue through the press of her lips together, “This far out? You must rebel quite often to have made a friend, I bet?” she tilts her head, a bit playful.
“You bet well— a lot, I assume?”
Cannily, she winks, “Indeed I do.” and aligns her face onward. Gesturing to her horse's rump a second— third? Eh, whatever time— she jerks her brow with a head cock back, “Hop on, I'll take you there.”
Both brows fall, and you flinch bemused, “Wh– uh,” as you hem and haw for words, grating a stutter, “But not a moment ago you spoke of the roads recent perils—”
“Surely it's not far?” she spoke presumptuously, “I mean, you've come this far, My Lady. Nobody would travel the woods past sunset, besides you it seems.” now a matter–of–fact vocal barricade that shoves itself into your ears and winds the cogs to think cleverly.
You shan't know my transgressions, sweet Knight. You may talk.
Trust is sparse as a puddle marched in.
“‘Tis but a mile out. Bravo on your convincing, Williams.” you wry and scoff.
“Can't fumble that name, huh?”
“I would not want to dishonor your knighthood.”
“You honor me with your coincidental presence, Princess.”
“Honor in your mind.”
"Hmph," her breathy chuckle, a sweetness you luckily caught with ears even numbed by the snowsquall. Do not blush. Do not smile. Fuck. Guess you'll be visiting Malina after all, the gale of a displeased sigh icing your lips over as you approach that dangling stirrup.
#౨ৎ. born of flora and fauna#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#ellie tlou#lesbian#sapphic#ellie x reader#knight!ellie#knight!ellie x princess!reader#tlou ellie#ellie williams au#ellie williams concept
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Woe, pirates be upon ye
Alright kiddos, time for my yapping on a kids show, starting with our pirates.
Calico Jack
Loosely based upon the real John "Calico Jack" Rackham interwoven with my personal thoughts and canon. Calico was "partners" with one Anne Bonny (partners is an extremely loose term between them as it was an open secret that Bonny was really in it for her crew mate, Mary Read). Besides that, Calico and Bonny had two kits who later grew up and stayed with the crew. They were known as Elizabeth "Fangs" and William "Terrible Tabby". William so happened to pick up a wife, Louise "Whispers" Reeves. This pairing created our favorite weirdo, Kwazii.
[From left to right] Anne Bonny, Calico Jack, Elizabeth "Fangs", William "Terrible Tabby", Mary Read, Kwazii and Louise "Whispers" Reeves
Getting the family tree over with, they were a particularly infamous and treacherous crew that plundered and captured anything that set sail in the sea. When Calico was 45 and Kwazii 6, operations hit the fan. In a changing ocean, it came to a halt when the Ranger was boarded following a scuffed raid. All except Kwazii were taken prisoner (Kwazii hid and avoided capture).
At this time, the punishment for piracy was, of course, d e a t h. However, to ensure that in the slim chance one did escape the rope, declawing would be performed. The authorities were right to do so, as Calico was able to slip away just before it was his time. He had attempted to break out his crew, only to find Bonny and Read missing and Fangs, Terrible and Whispers long gone. He escaped, finding Kwazii hidden at Port and commandeered another, smaller, ship to sail off with.
It was just the pair of them until Kwazii turned 13. They were on the run and have been unable to rest as long as The Calico Jack was still alive. So, Calico decided to spare Kwazii that fate. He left Kwazii in a fishing village with the story of "I'm going after some of the most dangerous treasure in the Amazon, I need you to stay here and watch yourself while I go."" Sailed out into the sea, taunted some royal ships, made a show of 'dying in a storm' and fell off the face of the earth, allowing "Calico Jack" to die.
He lived in isolation in the Amazon with his parrot and had time to think over everything he'd done. He regretted leaving Kwazii alone but knew it was for the best after what happened to the crew.
Kwazii
We know the story of the goober, but all I can say for MY story is that he came into contact with the Octonauts after trying to steal one of the gups. At the time, there were only three crew members: Inkling, Tweak, and Barnacles. So happened Barnacles was on that gup. What happened is anyone's guess, but the two left the gup, Barnacles covered in scratches and Kwazii soaking wet in sea water, as friends. Kwazii was kept on probation for trying to steal a gup but was allowed to stay on the (then very new and very in development) Octopod. He quickly proved himself to be a very good crew mate and eventually became Lieutenant. Up until finding Calico, everyone believed Kwazii was just a big fan of pirates (except Barnacles who knew of the incident and its details).
Little Bits
- Calico Jack is declawed, meaning he's missing the bone from the final knuckle (fingertips for us). He has golden prosthetics that help him, though they aren't very effective. They're mostly just for show and secondary weaponry.
- Calico is uneasy around Barnacles. Most likely, due to Barnacle's sounding like a British Royal Navy Official. Also, because he's a huge Polar Bear.
- Calico will not allow any doctor of any shape or form examine him (especially Peso). He hides away whenever he is hurt, insisting upon fixing it himself. He still remembers the last time a doctor got near him.
- Checks in with Kwazii frequently now that he has an octowatch. Though this means often getting face timed at 3 a.m., Kwazzi doesn't mind it.
- Has chronic pain in his hands due to the declawing.
- Lost most of his jewelry the first time he was captured, literally broke. He prefers living off the land but will gladly accept any fish biscuits or food Kwazii brings.
- He only wants the best for Kwazii, so when Paani came along, he gladly accepted him into the family. Calico often takes Paani exploring in more remote regions to show him any and all lakes, ponds, and rivers since "you like water, right? I like water too! Here, look at this puddle in the middle of nowhere."
- Calico doesn't smell as bad as one would expect. He smells like citrus and sea breeze. Unlike Kwazii, who smells like he just crawled out of a dentists office.
- Calico has a fear of places with less than 2 exits. He rarely enters the octopod or gups due to this. He always needs an exit in eyesight to feel safe.
Thanks for coming to the yapping session! Have some sketches too
#octonauts#octonauts kwazii#octonauts calico jack#octonauts headcanon#headcanon#me yapping#art#ibispaint art#digital art#artists on tumblr#using real life pirates for a kids show#original character
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