#mora clocks

[1lifeinspired]

Living Room Details ~ The Cole Farmhouse

[andallshallbewell]

[yorkshirereaper]

Stop anthropomorphizing Hermaus Mora! He is extremely sexy and perfect the way he is! What you don’t want to lay with a sentient green bubbling amorphous mass of tentacles and unnervingly synchronized eyeballs? Grow up

[premierclocks]

What Is a Swedish Grandfather Clock?

[myantiquelife]

Quiet simplicity...

@Norwegianspruce

[oswinsumbradoodle]

Foyer - Farmhouse Entry Mid-sized farmhouse limestone floor entryway photo with green walls

[frenchantiques]

Decorative Items - A very charming, late 18th century Swedish painted Mora clock, hand scrapped to reveal the original warm orange paint with a hint of blue in the moulure, together with the pendulum and weights. Please note that while the clocks are complete we do not guarantee the functionality of them.

[azen13]

CW: Yandere Themes Thinking abt Yandere!Neuvillette with a Sovereign!S/O who seeks asylum in Fontaine after years of hiding in Teyvat from the Fatui, Celestia, etc...

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The moment you enter the Palais Mermonia, Neuvillette feels your presence; like when the sun peaks through a blanket of clouds on an overcast day, something heavy falls off from his soul, like a curtain opening. His office doors open and you find yourself face-to-face with the only being like you in this land.

Of course Neuvillette can't just drop any of his appointments or cases, so he asks you empathetically to wait out in the lobby until his lunch break. Before he returns to his office, he asks one of the Melusines working to keep an eye on you and to make sure you don't get hurt or run off. His fingers twitch as he takes one last look at you, his eyes searching deep into your soul.

When he's finally finished with all his paperwork and met with several people, he ushers you in his office, his face imperceptible. Beneath his human facade, there are currents of emotions pushing against one another like boiling water: protectiveness, anxiety, fear, jubilance, relief. Neuvillette asks you if you want something to eat. Some water from Monstadt to go along with it, maybe?

He lets you tell your story and listens patiently. His expression, perfected over the course of hundreds of thousands of trials, stays perfectly intact, but the tides of his heart lurch as you tell him about all the atrocities committed to you.

The waters roar, and the dragon stirs.

When you ask for asylum and protection he is quick to agree. Very quick. Almost immediately he promises to set you up with a comfortable apartment, a simple job at the Palais organizing papers, some Mora to help you buy clothes, and whatever else you might need. He has to return to work, unfortunately. But he asks again if you can stay in the Palais Mermonia until he is done with work—or at least his official work—for the night.

Your agreement is the most beautiful sound he has ever heard.

The rest of the day, Neuvillette cannot think. There is an permanent indentation in his mind now from that first feeling of sensing your presence. The feelings duplicate themselves in his mind until he can hardly grasp his pen. Words on pages turn into soupy mush.

For the first time in centuries, Neuvillette does not stay late to continue working. When the clock strikes seven, he has already neatly organized the work he has to get done on his desk to pick up later. Briefly, his expression eases, thaws in a way, the corners of his lips slightly upturned, a hint of fondness finding its way into his iridescent eyes.

Unfortunately, he says, he can't organize all of the papers and contact all of the people needed right now to get you what he promised. However, he can offer you a guest room in his home. Your agreeance is so beautiful, your smile radiant like the sun and eyes shining like stars. He wants to see you smile. He likes it. Loves it, even.

As the two of you walk through the streets of Fontaine, the energy of the city begins winding down; there are still people clustered at cafes and musicians spouting tunes off into the evening summer air, but already, stars have begun to appear in the dazzling dusk sky.

You say you love the stars. Neuvillette listens with rapt attention, as though he is studying for the most important test of his life. He is an Akademiya scholar, and his Darshan is the study of you.

You are his star.

After the walk home, Neuvillette finds himself blessed by your expression when you gaze into the foyer of his house. It's nothing extraordinary like the opulence of the nobility, but it is upper-class; a quiet luxury permeates through every part of the home, from the banister carved with patterns of the sea to the walls painted a rich, deep blue.

He holds in a laugh when you see a potted plant and gaze at it like it is a miracle of life. Perhaps it is, with its delicate petals and fragrant scent. How—he wonders as he guides you to the guest room, nearly reaching to put his hand on the small of your back before deciding against it—could it survive this long? How did it not get ripped apart or trampled on by beasts and humans alike? The thought lingers in the back of his mind like the last traces of sunlight beaming in through the windows.

Neuvillette files it away.

When he goes to bed, he cannot sleep. Part of him is worried that there is something genuinely wrong with him, that he should seek medical attention. But that's impossible. And he knows it. It is an easy, dismissive lie; thin like ice in late winter. Once he smashes through it, he plunges into something lethal.

Is it wrong, Neuvillette thinks, that he wishes to protect you?

He should rephrase that. It is wrong that he wishes to keep you tucked away somewhere where those beasts will never hurt you again?

He holds a court case in his mind, you versus him. He cards through the evidence. The laws. He goes on a hunt in his archives for a tome on the law when he needs clarification.

When he composes a mental opinion to this rhetorical case, it is after several hours of back-and-forths in his head. But he knows now.

You are a special case, Neuvillette thinks. Cursed by Celestia even, he would say, with how much you have gone through, escaping the clutches of the Fatui and their Harbingers, and countless other evils. He can trace the scars on your hands knowing there are thousands of tragedies written in invisible ink over them. Could he be what decodes those messages? He can. He will.

To put it more plainly, you don't fall under the standard limits of jurisdiction of Fontaine's law. You are a Sovereign, not a citizen of Fontaine, and in addition, you fall under the qualifications of a person in extreme danger. Your very existence is endangered, the elusive essence of your being alluring to the foulest forces in Teyvat. And since the Archon of your element has not rescinded their powers, you are so very vulnerable.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Time passes strangely after that night. The god of time has always been a strange, fickle thing in an immortal being like Neuvillette's eyes, but after meeting you, it has only become more warped.

You go out to cafes together. Neuvillette buys you a croissant. You ask him what lavender tastes like. He describes it the best he can, and you buy a lavender latte. You and him share easy, pleasant conversation on a small streetside patio. That is just one morning. There will be an infinite number of mornings like that, but they will all carry that insurmountable significance to Neuvillette. Just like your smile. Your face. Your eyes. Hair. Nose. Everything. Anything. All of it.

This is love. It must be.

Days float on by like meandering clouds, the guest room slowly transforms into your room, and the thought of an apartment is abandoned. Neuvillette asks you to start helping him organize papers in his office, find the right tome he needs on Fontaine's laws from his expansive shelves. He buys you clothes in shades of blue, gray, and white, your outfit's color palette harmonizing perfectly with his. Your days are spent constantly together, going from home to the Palais Mermonia, back home, maybe going out for dinner or some other excursion like an opera or show, and Neuvillette is pleased.

Pleased because you have not tried to fight against this. Pleased that you are just as affected as he is. Pleased that he wakes every day knowing you are safe in your home. Pleased that you are his.

His grasp slowly tightens around you like a gardener lining his pruners up against a flower. His hands clasp yours. They draw around your back. Cup your cheek. Brush your lip. When a stranger finds themselves talking to you, Neuvillette's gravity draws you back in, like the earth and the moon. The stranger is simply a speck of dust in this cosmos, never to fall into your shared orbit again.

When you finally kiss after months of this slow pull, Neuvillette knows it is over. You are his. Your room is now his room. Your bed now his bed. Your love is now his love. Your life is now his life. And you know it. And he knows it. And you both know it's for the best.

He will protect you. His rose.

His star.

His love.

Forever.

[vivalabunbun]

As You Are, I Am Too

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

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

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

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

Side Note: Here is a continuation

Do you believe in soulmates?

It’s nothing to be ashamed of if you do. Because who doesn’t want to believe in it? The concept of an ‘other half’, a missing piece that completes you. Someone who loves you and only you unconditionally.

Who doesn’t want to experience that? 

To be loved, to be accepted, and to feel whole are all natural human desires. So it’s no surprise society, regardless of the century, culture, or demographic all obsessed over finding that other half.

To find a hand that fits perfectly within the gaps of one’s own. 

The greatest minds in all of Tevyat came together, analyzing each pattern, quantifying each data point, and testing each hypothesis until their magnum opus was created: The Akasha System.

Taking the work out of fate’s hands and into a large database. 

What criteria did this wonderful system use to piece together two halves of a whole? Who knows, it’s a black box. However, the machine was quite smart, quite quick, and quite accurate.

So much so, there was no reason not to use it. 

Humans, no matter how much some might deny it, despise being lonely. They fear it so much they’d rather hold a hand which strangles theirs with an equally crushing grip.

That’s why people rush toward their soulmates the moment the Akasha finds them, they fear being alone. 

But do you believe in soulmates?

“No.” Alhaitham puts down his drink.

“But you still used the Akasha??” Kaveh juts a finger in the direction of an ashen-haired man.

“And?” Disinterested eyes glance at the time displayed on a clock in the rowdy bar.

“And?! What do you mean and? You just said you don’t believe in soulmates!” The slam of Kaveh’s palms on the table made a bit of beer lap over the edge of his cup.

“I don’t believe in soulmates, but I’m not ignorant to the benefits of marriage.” 

“Huh?” 

“It’s convenient.” The blunt statement rolling off Alhaitham’s tongue as he motions for the tab.

“Ugh, you know what, forget it.” Kaveh chases his heavy sigh with a hearty swig of his cup.

“Well then, I’ll call it a night.” He’s stayed out long enough.

Placing a handful of mora on the table to cover his tab, Alhaitham bids goodnight to his two workplace acquaintances and former college roommate.

He swiftly strides towards the creaky tavern door, swinging it open as he steps into the warm Summer evening. Tomorrow is another workday, better to get an adequate amount of rest.

“Still the same even after a full year with her, huh,” Kaveh sighs dryly.

“Did you really think he’d change after marriage, Kaveh?” Cyno finally chipped in from the sidelines. 

“I should’ve known, someone as egotistical as Alhaitham practically married himself.” 

“Now, now, his wife is nowhere as egotistical as him,” Tighnari says over the rim of his glass. 

Cyno and Kaveh paused for a moment, sharing a glance as they considered Tighnari’s observation. With a shrug, they concluded: you weren’t nearly as egotistical as Alhaitham.

Still, the great mystery remains. 

“How is he the first to marry?” The blond bachelor slumps further on the tavern stool. 

“Life is full of wonders.” The ebony-haired bachelor gave a few comforting pats.

———————————————————————————

Unlocking the solid oak front door, Alhaitham steps into the serenity of a quiet house. Good, his ears were slightly buzzing from the boisterous conversation in a crowded bar.

Taking a few more steps into the entranceway, the man shuts the door behind his body.

The dull gossip over a few rounds of drinks made their influence known to him, he just wants to go to bed. Thus he takes a few more steps toward his bedroom.

“Place your shoes into the closet, I just mopped the floors.” A level voice called out from the living room. 

Alhaitham’s movement halts, quickly glancing down at the Oxford shoes still on his feet, taking note of the spotless floorboards.

Wordlessly, Alhaitham unties the laces allowing him to kick them off with ease, placing them onto the shoe rack just behind a closet door. 

It’s a habit that slips his mind every now and then despite a year of marriage; Surprisingly unsurprising when you take into consideration his busy mind.

However, times were different now, he’s no longer a kid, free to be lost in thought. He’s now a homeowner of a spacious house, a space he shares with you, and you liked things clean. 

Not a speck of dust lingered on surfaces, no plates left in the sink, and books pristinely placed on organized shelves. Qualifications that he deemed exceptional for a life partner.

Now with slipper-clad steps, Alhaitham makes his way through the house, peering into the living room to spot your curled figure reading on a sofa. The warm glow of a floor lamp illuminated the soft curves of your cheek. 

“Is something the matter?” You didn’t look up from the page as you addressed him. 

“No, just heading to bed.” 

“Okay, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

The start and finish of tonight’s conversation, after all, you valued a quiet house as much as he did. His colleague’s words weren’t without merit, even Alhaitham isn’t stubborn enough to deny the obvious.

Hobbies identical to each other, books upon books lined up along numerous shelves, preferring to stay within the walls of this house unless dragged out by friends. 

Your indecipherable gaze and stiff lips rival his own stone face. Perhaps that’s why the Akasha paired the two of you together. Two beings with stoic faces only another stoic would bear for a life partner, like two sides of the same coin. 

Alhaitham stops unbuttoning his shirt behind his shut bedroom door, reanalyzing the previous statement. Actually, that isn’t a very good analogy.

It'd be more accurate to compare you and him to a double-sided mirror that reflected only one view. 

“I don’t believe in soulmates.”

The man sitting across from the cafe table, introduced as Alhaitham, bluntly states, interrupting your sip of coffee, warm beverage just barely touching your lips. 

Placing your cup back down on the coffee shop table, your gaze observed the stranger who just met you moments ago - a  meeting in a small cafe arranged by Sumeru’s Ministry of Human Relations, the government body tasked with delivering the Akasha’s verdict. 

After a few breaths, you decided to humor his abrupt statement with a response. Staring straight into his teal-orange eyes, you say,  “What a coincidence, neither do I.”

————————

So then why did two nonbelievers follow the verdict handed to them? It’s simple really.

Two salaries combined can buy a sizable house. Two pairs of hands get chores done faster. Two signatures on a certificate save tax money. Life is simpler with a partner to bear some of the burden. 

Young professionals and fresh graduates aren’t known for their financial independence; a boy eager to move out of a cheap flat and away from an infuriating roommate, a girl trying to escape a noisy environment.

The circumstances had aligned. 

And that’s how it’s been for two years now, a nice quiet house. Although, you’d be lying if you weren’t thankful that the Akasha paired you with someone as handsome as Alhaitham. Silver hair, broad frame, and beryl eyes with a hint of ochre -  maybe he’s an apology gift from some fickle god.

He’s a well-rounded and capable man; perceptive enough to know not to cross boundaries drawn in the air, apt enough to not disrupt the serenity, and able to take care of himself.

Although, he could learn to launder better. 

Your lips tug down as your eyes scan over the deep wrinkles crimping the fabric of a freshly washed button-down. It looks too rumpled to look professional, even on him. A sigh falls from your lips.

The presence of slow steps make your head turn in their direction, connecting with Alhaitham’s neutral eyes, quirked gray eyebrow questioning your purpose. 

Two bodies, two rooms, and two beds.

The only time you or he crossed into the private haven of one another was when the floors needed to be mopped or shelves dusted. Owning a house means owning up to tedious chores and dividing up responsibilities spares one’s sanity from the tediousness. 

It’s best to point out the critiques now to spare your own clothes from the same fate. Picking it off the back of his chair, you show him the shameful state of the garment. 

“Leaving your clothes in the dryer for too long will create stubborn wrinkles.” You advise. 

Teal eyes glance at the shirt in your hands before they flick towards the closet rack, your own gaze follows, noting the numerous other shirts in a similar state. Another heavy sigh escapes you, it's obvious Alhaitham attempted to do laundry yesterday.

Wordlessly, you begin gathering each wrinkled garment. 

“I’ll rewash them and hang them outside, it’s the best way to smooth them out. Heat isn’t recommended for your fabrics.” You swiftly walk past him with your arms full. 

“Thank you, I’ll clean the floors then.” He takes hold of the mop against the wall.

This seamless switching of responsibilities is done with less than two sentences, the efficiency of which is only possible between two people such as yourselves. 

Button-downs are much more fickle than a casual t-shirt, using the wrong detergent or leaving it unattended for too long will cause unsightly wrinkles.

Alhaitham’s laundering skills have improved in the last two years… perhaps the singing of the dryer still slips past his preoccupied mind. 

The two of you are working professionals. Crucial insight you’ve learned from your parents: A nicely ironed shirt, neatly brushed hair, and elegantly tied ties are all it takes to make others believe in the white lie of a put-together life. 

Alhaitham was raised by his grandmother, a detail you recall from a passing conversation some time ago. It shows.

The amateur attempts at chores, the books strewn about a desk absent-mindedly, and the afternoon naps spent on a couch underneath a sunlit window are secrets only seen behind closed doors - all telltale signs of being well-loved.

‘How nice it must be.’ You thought, clipping his freshly washed button-downs to the clothesline, allowing the Sunday morning rays to shine down upon them.

A stone-faced man was once a beloved grandson. Maybe his juvenile attempts at chores were too endearing for an elderly lady to correct. 

Hidden from everyone but the audience of swaying fabric and a curious star, a bittersweet smile tugs at stiff lips. 

The clinking of forks against porcelain plates accompanies the evening news. Your eyes starring indifferently towards the TV just around the corner from the dinner table; looks like tonight's topic was the annual metrics of the Akasha.

With each passing year, these metrics only climb higher and higher, a machine learning to calculate better and better. 

“What’s your theory behind the Akasha?” you blurt out the question without looking away from the screen. 

A pair of utensils halted their movements as Alhaitham glances at the evening news. He takes a moment to wipe the corners of his mouth before humoring you.

Technically, the two of you have yet to fill your daily conversation quota. Might as well do it over dinner. 

“It’s all mathematics, the Akasha system. Pairing individuals based on collected data. Demographic, interests, and dispositions, are all factors in a pairing,” he explains in his baritone voice. 

“Mmm, then again it's all just a black box, we can’t be certain unless they choose to reveal it.” You ponder aloud. 

“Correct. Those factors are all key when it comes to compatibility. The Akasha simply uses probability. However, there’s the element of human variability.”

“Meaning it can’t always be right.” You know this, live it even.  “Is that why you don’t believe in the concept of soulmates?” Pivoting to an adjacent question, you return your attention back to the man across the table. 

“Yes, it’s an unrealistic belief.” Alhaitham sips on his wine.

“Such a brilliant conclusion, what an astute mind you have.” Honeyed-voice mimicking awe over a glass of water.

Narrowed teal eyes honed in as his glass returned to its place on the lacquered surface, unamused by your quip. 

“How about you? What theory brought you to hold the same brilliant conclusion?” 

“Do you know phenylethylamine? PEA?” Glancing up from your glass.

From his idle gaze and unmoving lips, you take his silence as a “no”. 

“It’s a stimulant that causes your heart to beat abnormally, released when you’re around a special someone. It causes what people describe as the ‘rush’ or ‘fever’ of love.” 

He says nothing, waiting for you to continue.

“But then your brain gets used to it, and the abnormality in your chest corrects itself.” You take a sip before continuing, “Nothing last forever, so why do people think love is an exception? That only one person ever will cause their hearts to flutter till the end of time?” 

A dry giggle follows the clink of your water cup against the wood. 

“How insightful.” Alhaitham takes another sip of wine to chase his sarcasm.

Maybe it was the amusing quip or how tonight’s butter chicken turned out to be exceptionally delicious, but a subtle smile curls at the edges of your lips. With today’s conversational quota fulfilled you focus your full attention back to the awaiting dinner. 

You remain ignorant to the gaze of teal eyes, oblivious to how it fixates on the faint smile complimenting the soft curves of your cheeks and plush lips. 

“...” 

The front door shuts and locks behind you, your shoes are halfway into the closet before a familiar scent beckons you towards the living room.

Quickly getting into your slippers, you trek through the entranceway and round the corner. The vivid hues of pale blues and gentle violets with pops of bright yellow catch your eyes, confirming your speculations: it’s a bouquet. 

The bundle of flowers were placed into a long-forgotten vase. Turning away from the blooms, you face the man currently thumbing through a book on the couch -the only other person with access to this quiet haven.

Turning back to observe the blooms, you note each species of flower. The Sumerian Rose, Kalpalata Lotus, and…Padisarah.

You observe how the pollen of the Padisarahs dusts the radius of the surface around the vase. It’s a fickle flower after all.

A fickle and potent-smelling flower. 

A scowl twists your face despite your best efforts, the sickly-sweet fragrance of the capricious blooms assaults your senses. 

“Please open a window.” your hand comes up to shield your nose. 

“Is something the matter?” 

“The smell is giving me a headache.” 

A headache forms from within the deepest depths of your mind, the same visceral reaction to the heavy perfumes that plagued your childhood walls. Your mother believed the saccharine scent could cover up her infidelity if she sprayed enough.

Compared to that artificial perfume, fresh Padisarahs were much tamer, but still enough to make a bitter taste appear at the back of your tongue. 

“I see.” Alhaitham sets his book down, getting up to allow the Autumn breeze in. 

Swiftly, you trudge away from the vase and its potent blooms and down the hall, eager to find an untainted corner of the house. It’d be best to sleep the headache off. 

In the morning when you round the corner back into the living room, you notice the vacant vase and table wiped clean of any speck of yellow pollen. Passing through into the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafts in the air.

As you pour yourself a cup, you take note of how the trash has already been taken out, a fresh trash bag lining the bin. 

Good, flowers were a hassle to keep around the house.

———————————————————————————

“Chocolates?” You study the box of sweets left out on the kitchen table. 

“I picked them up while getting ingredients for dinner,” Alhaitham answers, busy chopping carrots. 

“You can have some.” 

You return your gaze  back to the intricately designed package in seasonal Winter colors. It’s not often that you indulge in such elegant treats, you couldn’t refuse such an offer. 

Delicately picking up a piece, the glossy dark chocolate shine looks inviting, you can see the quality in these sweets. Placing the small chunk onto your tongue, savoring the rich flavor. Not too sweet and not too bitter. 

Using your tongue to maneuver it towards your teeth you bite into its center, only for your tastebuds to be assaulted by a foul flavor. The distinct and sharp tang of alcohol and the revolting aftertaste of bourbon spoils the sweetness. 

Refusing to allow the detestable flavor to remain on your tongue, you briskly swipe up a few napkins, spitting the foul sweet out. You frown at the stubborn tang of bourbon which threatens to ruin your appetite for dinner. 

“You can have the rest.” You throw out the crumpled napkin. 

“Are they of poor quality?” The tapping of the knife paused. 

“They’re just not to my taste.” 

“In that case, I hope tonight's dinner is.” Alhaitham resumes his task. 

Taking a glass out from the cupboard, you fill the cup with fresh water before gulping it down, washing the foul tang of alcohol from your tongue, and even fouler memories of the stench of sour wine and crushed cans.

Wiping the escaped droplets off with the back of your hand, you go for a second glass. Hopefully, you can cleanse your palate. 

———————————————————————————

“Do you have plans tonight?” Alhaitham’s words make you stop in the middle of the hallway. 

You have a book ready in hand for a night of reading on the sofa under the soft glow of the floor lamp. You know his eyes can see that,  gaze questioning his intentions. 

“I was given two tickets to a movie, would you like to accompany me?” He holds out the slips of paper. 

As your eyes pass over the printed font, you recognized the title, a name picked up within the chatter of coworkers at the office. It’s An adaptation of a famous light novel from Inazuma, and the reviews seem positive. 

“Sure.”

You could get out of the house a little more. 

…

It seems like everyone wants to see a movie tonight, the theater lobby is filled with bustling crowds, families with excited kids, and couples holding hands.

And then there’s you and Alhaitham. Standing side by side, his hands carrying two carbonated drinks, your hands holding an overpriced bag of popcorn, walking toward the room printed on the tickets. 

“C5…C6, looks like we got good spots.” You settled into the plush seats, careful not to spill the bag. 

Alhaitham hums in response, placing your drink in the cupholder. More and more people filed into the screening room, waves of ‘excuse me’s and ‘sorry’s rolling through the space until all the seats were finally filled. The lights begin to dim as the opening logo booms through the sound system. 

The cinematography was beautiful, the musical scores accompanying the plot pleasing to the ears, and the popcorn perfectly seasoned.

It’s been a while since you’ve last gone to a movie theater, maybe you should go more often. As you brought a few more pieces of popcorn to your lips, your eyes travel toward Alhaitham.

His arms crossed as the light of the silver screen reflects onto his skin, noticing your stare, his teal gaze connects with yours. 

Moving the striped bag closer to his frame, you offer him some popcorn, he paid for the refreshments. It'd be a shame if he didn’t get to enjoy them too.

His large hand reachs over and takes a handful, your curiosity wanting to see his reaction to the snack. However, a piercing shrill snaps your attention away. 

Just a few rows away, a woman stood up from her seat, throwing a bag of popcorn at the man sitting beside her. Screaming words you couldn’t quite make out as they merges with the onscreen dialogue and equally furious shouts of the now popcorn-covered man.

Their thunderous voices were only amplified by the acoustics of the theater. 

They’re both standing now, still hurling insults and grievances one after another. There’s a ringing in your ears, their faceless silhouettes in the dim theater replaying a scene you’ve seen many times before. It’s as if they’ve finally developed a conscious, now aware of the stares and glares thrown their way.

Oh, look they’re leaving now, still fighting the whole way out of the screening room. 

With the disturbance now cleared, a low wave of murmuring swept through the audience before dying out. The dialogue and soundtrack were audible again, the atmosphere reverting to how it was.

You didn’t feel like snacking on the popcorn anymore. Gaze focus on the fluffy puffs for the rest of the movie. 

“Did you enjoy the film?” An indifferent voice resounds from your right side. 

Walking out as the credit rolled in the background, following the flow of traffic toward the exit. You were walking by Alhaitham’s side, but your mind was elsewhere, a subtle frown etched on your lips. 

“It was fine, just crowded and loud.” Your voice was just as flat. 

“Oh.”

Tossing the unfinished bag of popcorn way into the nearest trash can, the two of you continue on the silent journey home.

Perhaps, it’s best if you just stayed curled up with a book. 

“Eh? It’s been three years and you’ve never gotten your wife flowers? I knew you were cold-hearted, but not to this extent. Here, a quick bouquet of some fresh flowers I picked.” 

“You should gift her some sweets, maybe then you two can talk a choco-lot… Did you get the joke?”

“Are you serious?! Almost four years and you never took her on a date?? You’re hopeless! Take these tickets and take her to the movies. By the way, you’ll have to pay for them.”

Alhaitham wasn’t sure what made his colleagues so invested in his marriage, maybe a projection of their own lack of one. To his colleagues, you were just as much of an enigma as the ashen-haired man.

Any passing comment, no matter how vague or curt, would bring forth an onslaught of unsolicited advice. And it was for that very reason within the walls of your home these details shall stay. 

Alhaitham isn’t sure which was more irksome, the uninformed guidance of bachelors, or the fact he was the one who actually tested each suggestion. Regardless, at least these trials were fruitful in the sense he can gauge your dislikes now. 

You despise flowers for their fickle messes and scent. You’re revolted by overpriced chocolates. You detested rowdy theaters and subpar films. 

Four now going on to five years, and these were his results. Frankly, he didn’t have to subject you to such experiments for these results, because they aligned with his own preferences.

A waste of time, disturbing your peace for the sake of his own curiosity. 

A heavy sigh falls from his lips as he sets the bucket of water down, one hand holding a mop as the other turns the knob of your bedroom.

It’s a Sunday, meaning the floors needed to be mopped. Your door's hinges sing as they swing open only to be abruptly silenced as Alhaitham stood motionless under the door frame. 

Oh. He should’ve knocked.

You were in the midst of getting dressed in front of your floor-length mirror, glimpses of smooth skin peeking out from under baggy fabric. Before he could stop, teal eyes followed the dark fabric reaching just down to the middle of your thighs and draping low on one shoulder. Your fingers were in the middle of buttoning the clearly oversized shirt as you turned back to focus on him. 

Blank gaze traveling up your soft lips set in a neutral position and meeting your deadpan stare, Alhaitham’s conscience restarts.

Today was Sunday, which meant it was laundry day yesterday, and it was the ashen-haired man’s turn to wash and dry the clothes. Somehow, his button-down got mixed in with your blouses, leading to your unamused reaction. 

“I’ll be more mindful next time, did my shirt dull any of your whites?” Forcing his eyes to avert, a late attempt at respecting your privacy. 

“It’s fine, fortunately, the dye didn’t bleed out during the wash.” You turned away as your hand pulls the draping fabric up your shoulder. 

“Just place the shirt over the chair in my room, I’ll take care of it later.”

“Okay.” 

Once more your door sings as he shuts it on the way back into the hall, deciding to clean the floors of his room first and allowing you to change into your rightful clothes. It was early noon and a weekend, meaning there was no reason for Alhaitham to brush out his sleep-tousled hair. Hopefully, messy gray locks were enough to conceal burning ears. 

———————————————————————————

“The Evolution of Everything.” His eyes scan over the title held out in front of him. 

A newly published scientific journal filled with freshly collected data, the book's spine still in mint condition. Alhaitham takes note of the identical copy held in your hand. 

“You seemed interested in this genre, so I picked up a copy for you.” You motion for him to take it. 

There wasn’t a rule etched in stone that forbade the sharing of books within these quiet walls. The books on your shelves have been more interesting than his as of late. A pattern of folded corners inflecting more and more pages of the books lining your bookshelves, evidence of a certain man’s meddling.

 The warning glare every time you smoothed out a creased page directed his way didn’t seem to be enough to stop the unconscious habit of his hands.

It looks like you’re trying out a new solution, getting him his own copy to prevent the infection from engulfing each and every corner of your bookshelves. 

“Thank you, I’ll read it soon.” He accepts the peace offering. 

With that, you made your way back to the sofa. Flipping open your own copy, fingers gently making sure to not crumple the delicate pages or crease the pristine spine. Alhaitham compares it to the book currently held in his own hands.

An older book, while not falling apart or tattered, it’s obvious the man has thumbed through its pages. A well-loved book as his grandmother would’ve described it. 

Alhaitham needs to stop this practice he never corrected in childhood. 

———————————————————————————

“Alhaitham.” You greet him at the entranceway. 

Said man is currently placing his outside shoes away into the closet, returning from an uneventful day at his office. You usually got home before him, but this was the first time you’ve waited for him at the front door. He notes that you seem to be holding something behind your back. 

“Here.” Bring your arms out from your back, the distinct crinkling of plastic was heard.

Teal eyes study the gift basket filled with bath products, body wash, shampoo, conditioner, and lotion all nicely packaged with a satin ribbon. 

“It’s to thank you for helping me with errands lately,” you explain. 

Recently, you’ve been asking him to accompany you to the cluttered streets lined with stalls and haggling merchants. With his towering frame and larger hands, he could carry heavier bags and part a path through the pushy crowds easier. You were using your resources to maximize efficiency. 

“There’s no need to trouble yourself with this, I’m just doing my part. But thank you.” He takes the basket from your hands, eyes remaining collected. 

Just as the basket leaves your hands, the distinct chime of your phone goes off as ‘Bahram’ flashes across the screen. The name of your boss. 

“Excuse me, I have to take this call. Dinner will be ready in half an hour.” Turning away, you walk toward the kitchen. 

The he hums in response, slipping into his inside shoes. With brisk steps, he covers the distance from the front door to his room, closing then leaning against the solid oak.

Sharply inhaling as one hand balancing the basket of toiletries and the other holding his head. 

You’ve always prefer to maintain the serenity of the house. Resolving strife with proactive actions or brief comments. Not once in these past five years did you ever nag him, you’re too pragmatic for that. At times it’s a curse more than a blessing, evidenced by the gift basket staring back at him mockingly. 

Although Alhaitham was messy at times, he knows the importance of hygiene. Teeth brushed twice a day, a shower taken every day before dinner, and deodorant applied daily.

However, the temperatures this Summer were at record highs, even for Sumeru. The packed market streets pushing the two of you closer than usual, perhaps he’s no match for the heat this time. 

Washing his hair twice and his body thrice, Alhaitham finishes his prolonged shower by gurgling some mouthwash for good measure. Walking into the kitchen in a fresh set of clothes and his hair still damp. The table set with potato boat and some steak. Impassive eyes met inscrutable eyes as you motion for him to take a seat.

Your nose remained relaxed, meaning you were probably satisfied with his efforts. 

Alhaitham makes a silent reminder to research some cologne after he finishes washing the dishes. One that isn’t overbearing nor too weak to linger. 

How embarrassing it is, five years in and the stoic prodigy known as Alhaitham is still testing the bounds of his wife’s patience. Selfish experiments and habits he can’t seem to correct conflicting with your wishes for a clean, serene, and quiet home. 

The entire reason why you bothered signing your name next to a stone-faced man who said ‘I don’t believe in soulmates’ before asking ‘How are you?’.

  

Flowers, chocolates, and movie tickets.

You weren’t oblivious to the sentiment behind these arbitrary actions. In a way, it was expected. A husband wants to get closer to his wife, it’s simple chemistry.

The human mind craves connection, oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin released at the sight of gifted blooms, crafted sweets, and from simply sitting within each other's presence.

A chemical cocktail the mind gets drunk on. 

Alhaitham isn’t immune to it and neither are you. Even if you were able to stiffen your lips, steady your gaze, and hide those flushed cheeks. Nothing you did could quell the abnormality in your chest, was Alhaitham having the same issue?

There comes the first hurdle, the unknown which hung in the air formed over years of peaceful silence. The thought of two stoic faces peering into each other’s eyes as two monotonous voices stated the obvious would make any romantic keel over and die.

It’d be too embarrassing, especially when it’s already been awkward. 

Headache caused by sickly sweet blossoms, spitting out pricey sweets, and dulled reaction to a critically acclaimed film. None of this was Alhaitham’s fault, how can you blame someone for something they don’t know?

He never asked, you never told.

No one knew what happened within that noisy house with empty bottle-covered floors of two ‘soulmates’ who refused to release their crushing grips. All except the three unfortunate souls trapped within its Padisarah-scented walls. 

Still, his keen eyes didn’t miss those details, reassessing his actions before ultimately channeling more of his energy into chores around the house instead of frivolous gifts. What a proactive husband. 

A sting of guilt felt as you recall his sincere attempts at trying to cross an icy bridge. What should you say? ‘Thank you, you tried.’ Sounded far too condescending, it could even lead to a huffy fight. Something you’ve been good at avoiding these past five years. 

Marriage is filled with compromises, meeting each other halfway along the road of life, side by side. So you tried this time.

Curiosity guiding you as it did a naive hero towards the brilliance of a red star. 

———————————————————————————

Your first attempt was inspired by an article that popped up on your phone’s feed, something about wearing your partner’s shirt to make them flush, nonsense known as the ‘boyfriend shirt’.

You still gave it a try. Swiping up one of your husband’s black button-downs one Saturday night, only building up the confidence to put it on the next morning. 

Your original plan was to just casually wear it around the house as you got the Sunday morning chores done, but that got thrown out when Alhaitham suddenly opened your door when one-third of the buttons were still undone.

A moment of tense silence followed, impressively you managed to maintain a cool facade. Grasping the opportunity to leave this stale silence with an expertly crafted response. 

———————————————————————————

In the end, he just wanted his shirt back. So for your next attempt, you toned it down, no longer taking advice from nonsensical articles. 

Recently, Alhaitham has taken more of an interest in your bookshelf. More of the once pristine edges of your books folder here and there. If it was anyone else, you’d make them buy you a new copy immediately, but for now, you simply smoothed out the paper.

If he wants to read the theories and studies that muse you, why don’t you read them together?

However, two bodies pressed together on a sofa trying to read the small print along pages at the same time is simply uncomfortable. Plus, Alhaitham reads much faster than you. 

To ensure a pleasant reading experience for both of you, two copies were the best solution. 

He read it after you. 

———————————————————————————

Your next attempts used thinly veiled excuses to get Alhaitham to accompany you to the bustling markets of Sumeru City. In a way, trying to make up for that lackluster movie experience.

Only for it to soon turn into using Alhaitham to carry arm fulls of bags as he shielded you from the push and pull of the busy crowd. 

Perhaps you should stick to gift-giving, to spare your husband from working like a Sumpter Beast in this weather.

But besides books, what should you give him? He’s just like you, if he sees something he wants, he’d just buy it with his own money. 

On the way home from work, you caught sight of a shop, one which displayed handmade soaps and fancy lotions. Huh, Alhaitham often takes your lotions, maybe you should get him his own. A bell ringing overhead announces your entrance into the cozy store. 

“Welcome!” A bright voice chirped as a shop assistant with vibrant red hair and an equally vibrant smile bounded toward you. 

“I’m Nilou, how may I help you today?”

“I’m just looking for some lotion.” You politely responded, trying to ignore the faint fragrance of Pardisarahs. 

“We’ve got plenty of hand-made ones, for you or for someone else?”

“For my husband.”

“Oh? What does he like?”

You paused for a moment, lips pressed together in contemplation before deciding. 

“Something fresh and not overbearing, nothing made from Pardisarahs.” If he liked using your lotions, then he must have the same scent preferences. 

“We just got this new lotion that fits the criteria! Oh! But it pairs very well with this body wash… actually this shampoo and conditioner set is also a good fit. Oh! What if we bundle them?”

What was supposed to be a simple lotion turned into you leaving the small shop with an entire gift basket. A sigh leaves your lips, looks like you’re not as immune to sales tactics as you originally thought. 

That night you handed the ribbon-wrapped basket to Alhaitham. Even if he isn’t interested in expensive handcrafted soaps, he’ll still use them out of necessity, they were a gift after all.

However, it doesn’t seem you had to worry about that. He used up the fancy soaps and lotions. 

The opulent scent lingering on his skin and towel-dried hair, looks like your gift made you discover a new side of your husband.

He enjoys really long showers, evidenced by your rising water bills. 

Still, the vast expanse of uncertainty didn’t shrink, not even one bit. Just like the distance between an outstretched hand toward the sun. 

Books, lotions, and walks through a market, looks like it was all for naught. 

The mutual agreement to not lock eyes, these cold halls, these awkward dinners filled with nothing but the clattering of silverware and plates. Where have you seen these patterns before?

Oh, you’ve seen these in your childhood home. 

Ah, was this a curse passed on to you? What an awful wedding gift from uninvited parents to a courthouse office. 

Clutching the straps of your bag tighter, your legs quicken their pace, wanting to get out of the crowded streets filled with the mumbles and pushes of people freshly off the clock.

With each stranger knocking into your shoulder another drop is added to a bottle. White knuckles gripping on your straps as a pressure rises within the bottle’s glass body, threatening to shatter it.

You can’t let this continue, the mounting pressure will sooner or later detonate into a hideous mess. Best to avoid that scenarios. Eyes catching sight of a small reprieve from the crowd, you direct yourself there.

 The small store front provides you with some shelter for your lungs to breathe. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. The pressure subsides just a bit. There’s still room in there, you can suppress a little more, you can endure a little longer. 

Eyelids fluttering open, you recognized the name of the shop. It’s the fancy soap shop, one with the vivacious sales assistant.

Peering through the glass you searched for that brilliant shade of crimson. And you found it, right next to glimmering silver hair. It’s like your body forgot how to breathe. 

From the rumbling of the late evening rush, all you could do was read their lips from behind a thick glass door.

Petite pink lips giggling behind clasped hands as Nilou looks up at Alhaitham, tilting her head to the side as if she asked him a question. His lips remained stiff, but teal gaze reflected crimson as they softened. Something you never witnessed within the quiet walls of your home. 

Looks like you found the cause of the rising water bills, perhaps Alhaitham likes the smell of Padisarahs. 

Your bottle couldn’t contain the ocean anymore. 

It wasn’t an Earth-shattering catastrophic event, no tidal waves crashing down, no flood flood devastating everything in its path. Only a defeated ‘pop’ and its pathetic echo as your bottle finally overflowed.

Bitter sea-foam fizzled out as it made an unseen mess. 

Listlessly, you rejoined the rolling crowd, letting the eb and flow of its movement carry you all the way to the front door of a false haven. Systematically inserting the key, placing your shoes into the closet, and shutting your room door behind your back. Staring at the clean floor with its intricate wood grain. 

However, your mind weren’t processing any of it, busy with its calculations.

When did his fever start? That one Autumn night with a chaste bouquet. What day is it now? The cusp of Summer. How long has it been? In a few months, it’ll be three years.

A lecture from an inescapable past resurfaces.

————————

“Hey, kiddo.” 

Slurred words made you stop in your tracks, small hands tightening their grip on your backpack straps.

You weren’t quiet enough, the careful steps of your feet were rendered useless when it came to the creaky wooden floors of this house. Your lungs burned for air, but you didn’t want to breathe in the stench which permeated this air. 

The aroma of cheap perfume, sour wine, and cheap beer. The source of this foul smell? The freshly awakened man laying on the couch just a few inches away: a man known as your father.

Still trying to reserve your stored supply of oxygen, all you offered the drunkard was a firm hum. Not that he’d care, judging from the crushed cans and empty bottles littering the path, he’s probably too far gone. 

“Did you know love is a chemical? Something called ‘phenylethylamine’?” A hiccup interrupts his sentence, but he continues, much to your dismay. 

“Haha, it makes your heart beat faster and your cheeks flush because it’s considered an amphetamine, one of the most powerful drugs.” His stumbling hand blindly reached for another can, knocking over empty shells until it found one with just a bit of liquor. 

“Too bad the high can only last three years.”

Your disinterested gaze trailed off down the empty hall, legs itching to break away from the lecture you’ve heard numerous times before. Lungs begging to inhale the untainted air of your room, the only sanctuary this hollow home held.

Just a few minutes was all you needed, then you’ll start mopping these foul floors. 

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

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

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

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

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

————————

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

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

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

So blindsided by it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a silent death. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you accept the vile glass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe you should’ve just stayed home. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

———————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————————

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

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

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

Teal eyes peer through the gap between the oak doorframe.

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

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

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

His shouts resume, volume escalating by the minute. 

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

————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

The distinct rumble of an engine leaking in through the living room window interrupts his peace, the slam of car doors causing Alhaitham to promptly fold over the corner of the page he has yet to finish.

The dinner must have ended.

Getting up from a cushy couch, Alhaitham makes his way toward the entranceway.

His keen ears picking up the unmistakable hearty chuckle of a man, Alhaitham stills for a brief second before continuing to the door. 

Before the chime of the doorbell had the chance to sound throughout the home, Alhaitham already pried open the front door.

Teal gaze darkening as they examine the display on the front steps. 

Your arm around the shoulder of another man while his arm was snaked around your waist, pressing your body against his as he supports you up the steps.

The sound of the hinges directs the man’s attention to the homeowner currently staring at him, oblivious to the way Alhaitham’s grip threatens to crush a metal handle behind solid oak. 

“Oh! You must be Ms. Perfect’s husband. I’m Bahram.” The man greeted.

Alhaitham already knows him. He’s seen that name flash up enough times across your phone. He’s seen you pick up no matter the hour and step out into an empty room.

A new habit of yours which started some months earlier.

“Haha! She drank a bit too much tonight.” The jovial man continues, his hand still resting on your hip.

Drank? You drank? You don’t so much as glance at Alhaitham’s wine cabinet at home, yet you drank with this man? The begins of scowl start to set into Alhaitham’s face. 

“I’ll bring her inside for ya.” Bahram takes a step forward only to be blocked by a towering frame topped with ashen hair. 

“I’ll take it from here.” Alhaitham barely bit back a pointed tone, forcibly smoothing it over to make his voice pass as neutral. 

Prying that hand off your hip and your arm from Bahram’s neck, Alhaitham’s strong hold supports your slumping figure against his own body.

Pulling you across the threshold of the front door, finally putting some distance between you and that damn boss of yours. 

“Have a goodnight.” Venomous lie rolling off Alhaitham’s tongue as he firmly shuts the oak door, not bothering with any more pleasantries. 

It didn’t take much effort to carry you into the living room. Setting you down on the sofa then kneeling down with dexterous fingers, Alhaitham freed your feet from the chokehold of those heels.

You make a mental note to throw them out tomorrow morning. 

“Thank you,” you breathed out, relieved to finally be home. 

Your husband doesn’t respond as he walk away to place your shoes into the closet. The lingering taste of wine churns your stomach, you needed some water to wash it out.

Carefully, you amble into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with fresh water. Praying it can finally rid you of that foul flavor. 

After three glasses of wine, your stakeholders and coworkers finally turned their attention elsewhere. You’ve entertained them enough.

Granting you the freedom to push away anymore glasses your boss offered, only getting him to stop after you agreed to his offer of driving you home.

What a troublesome night, your mood sourer than it has been for the past few months. 

As you fill up your glass again your ears catch the pattering of Alhaitham’s steps as he trails into the kitchen, stopping only a few paces away watching you glup down your second glass. 

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?” His husky voice resounds from behind you as his finger taps against the marble countertop. 

“No.” You fill rinse out the cup, the stubborn grip of wine not releasing your tastebuds just yet. 

“Oh? It sure looks like you did.” 

Your body stiffens as your turn the faucet off, glancing over your shoulder with eyes narrowing. 

“What do you mean by that?” Your tone a bit more sharp than you’d like it to be. 

“I’m certain you know exactly what I mean.” Alhaitham stops his tapping as he lays his palm flat on the table, teal eyes boring straight into you. 

“Well, well looks like your assumption is wrong.” 

“I doubt it, stop mincing your words and just say you enjoyed a few drinks with your boss.” 

Your body turns around fully, glaring stare connecting with his teal one. Ticking of a clock sounding throughout the quiet kitchen.

So that’s why he’s behaving like this, partners with wandering eyes tend to project their hypocritical insecurities onto the other after all. 

“Then why don’t you say you’ve been enjoying your visits to Nilou?” Something more venomous than sour wine drips off your words. 

“How is she related to this conversation?” His eyes narrowing at you, unlike the same teal irises that reflected the scarlet of her hair. 

“You know exactly what I mean.” You spat his own words back at him, maneuvering around him as you make your way back to your room. 

At this point you weren’t sure what was the cause of the headache threatening to form.

The wine? This deafening silence? Or the thought of Padisarahs?

You don’t care, you want to go to bed. The thuds of his steps weren’t far behind yours as you trek through the halls.

“Our conversation hasn’t concluded.” His deep voice ringing in your ears. 

“Yes it has.” Your room was just in sight.

“No it hasn’t.” His hand encloses around your wrist.

There you were, halfway through the doorframe of your room with the pull of his hand preventing you from getting the rest you want.

There’s no longer any space left in a shattered bottle, just a rippling ocean getting rougher and rougher with each deep breath. 

“Can’t you be honest?” His ironic, paradoxical words causes the tide to crush against each other. 

“Can’t you be honest? Do you think I wouldn’t notice your showers right as you come back from ‘work’? You’ve been driving the water bill up with your cover-up efforts.” Glaring right into those damn beryl eyes, frown breaking your stiff lips. 

“Cover-up? What a bold accusation coming from the same person who awaits a call everynight.” He mirrors your scowl. 

“Maybe its because work offers better company than this stifling house.” 

Alhaitham grip tightens on your wrist as his lips press into a firm line, indecipherable stare weighing down upon your frame. His broad shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath. 

“Strip,” he commands.

“Have you gone mad?” You snap back, unable to budge in his hold. 

“Yes, furious even.” 

It didn’t take much effort for him to make his way into your room, pulling you in as well. You could barely keep up with it all, glaring at him but it didn’t affect him one bit.

The movement causes your dress to shift. Glancing down you realize a strap of your dress slipped off, leaving one side of your breast dangerously exposed. 

With swift strides, he arrives at the edge of your bed. It’s rare for you to dawn such attire, applying a lovely shade of crimson to those plush lips, and tying your hair up so nicely. Did you get all dressed up for Bahram? Why couldn’t it be for his viewing only? 

Tsk, noisy nonsense is cluttering his mind, those the claws of a green-eyes monster digging into his last shred of restraint. Seizing his rationality in its ugly, greedy hands tighter and tighter the longer your soft thighs pressed against his tense body.

Crashing into those crimson lips of yours, one hand positioning your face to allow his tongue to catch yours by surprise. Letting the two muscles dance together as his other hand explored the expanse of your body, pulling up the silky fabric to grant his palm the pleasure of gracing your soft thighs. 

‘Oh, so this is what he wants,’ you thought as your lips moved against his.

‘Fine, might as well experience what he’s been doing behind your back.’ The fingers of your free hand tangling themselves into his hair, tugging at ashen locks with disregard. 

Unfortunately, the pesky need for oxygen made Alhaitham release your lips. Chest panting as his darkened gaze observed the state of your lips. Crimson smeared over the corner of your glossy lips. You put so much effort into painting them, making sure they were nicely defined. 

However, it felt so cathartic to know that he’s the one who messed them up, no one at the party saw them like this. Only him. 

“I’ll ask you one last time, strip now.” Not letting go of your face. 

“Go to hell,” you spat out. 

And the last chain broke, dignity and self-control reduced to nothing more than ash as his hunger commanded him. Go to hell you say?

“Then I’ll take you with me,” he sneers through clenched teeth, pushing you into the mattress face down. One hand restraining those disobedient hands of yours behind your back.

Before protest could leave your lips a rip resounds through the hot air.  Alhaitham knows he should be delicate with it. That he should carefully pull the zipper down your back, letting the fabric naturally drape off your frame.

 However, a man who starved for six years now knows nothing about patience. 

You feel the silky fabric slip off, leaving you in nothing but your panties. Teal eyes honing in on the darkened patch on the thin fabric, a dry chuckle leaving his lips.

“Wet just from this? Or were you wet during dinner too?” He pulls the fickle fabric off. 

You wiggle in his hold, face flushed with frustrated embarrassment at your current predicament. However, in terms of strength you’ll always lose to Alhaitham. A violent flinch jolts your body as he runs a finger runs along your glistening slit. 

“What a lewd thing, has he seen this slutty hole of yours?” Alhaitham watches the way your cunt quivers with each stroke of his digit. 

“Do really you think I’d sleep with my boss?” Your voice slightly muffled by the sheets as you turn your face to the side. 

“I need to confirm it.”

With two fingers, he spreads your soft pussy lips apart, keen eyes observing the trail of slick starting to drip down from between them. He sees the muscles of your entrance clenching around nothing, he glides a digit in, feeling your slick walls clamp around it. Clear essence drooling out. He hums in satisfaction before sliding his finger out, you bite into the sheet to silence any sounds. 

“Enjoying this?” He muses, fingers spreading your cunt again. 

You don’t respond, but the glare you’re sending his way makes his lip curl into a smirk. For once he could read the emotions behind your stoic eyes, he wants to see more.

Trailing his fingers up your slit until they bump into a hard nub making your body twitch. Softly pinching your clit between two fingers, he slowly rolls the senesitve bundle of nerves as you bite harder to stop your moans. 

Cunt slick but unstretched, clit throbbing but not swollen, only your essence coating his fingers. Looks Bahram hasn’t gotten the chance to taste you yet.

Calming the thrashing of a green-eyed beast just slightly. However, this wasn’t enough. Alhaitham feels the parchedness of his throat as his eyes scan over your glistening slit.  

Alhaitham once believed that the touches exchanged when his fingers brush against yours while passing plates, when you pull a blanket up his napping frame, or when your bodies briefly pressed against each other as he helps you hang the laundry out was enough to satisfy him. That he could sustain off just borrowing your lotions. 

Such a false assumption, a foolish one even. As the heat radiating off your body melts away another restraint he imposed on himself. Alhaitham realizes just how much he’s been starving himself. 

Thumb rubbing firm circles into your clit, the pleasure making your legs close together, trying to shut him out but the grip of his hand stops your attempt. 

“Tsk, stay still.” His strength pinning your legs apart, showing you just how ‘feeble’ he was. 

In retaliation, he pushes your legs further apart. Exposing more of yourself to him, it was embarrassing enough to almost make your lust-hazed mind care.

Thick fingers gathered up drops of slick leaking out from your dripping cunt as your lewd hole unable to contain its greed. Allowing him more access, feeding into his greed further.

Two fingers tracing the rim of your entrance before it slowly pushes through. Instantly, your gummy walls clamped down on his fingers, making him hiss through clenched teeth.

“If you’re grasping my fingers this much, how will you take something larger?” His breath ghosting over your cunt. 

Your toes curled in the air as a kiss was pressed against your throbbing clit, almost enough to let a gasp escape you. Biting back a drawn out moan as his tongue traced your leaking slit, starting with your sensitive numb then traveling up to lap at the essence escaping your stretched hole with the smooth muscle then back to flick at your clit.

You never realized just how pent up your body was until whines and moans just fell from your lips like water. Turning your head away, pressing your face into the mattress in hopes it’d catch those sinful sounds. 

“Tsk.” Alhaitham escalated the pace of his fingers. 

A sharp slap against your puffy clit, shooting white-hot pleasure up your core. With a gasp you pulled away from the sheets, unable to stop the moan which tumbled out. Hastily, you tried to muffle your voice again, only for a warning squeeze on your still pinned wrist stopping you.

You’ve enjoyed your silence, he’s been deprived of those sultry moans, so for tonight let him enjoy them to the fullest extent. 

Your back arched, hips bucking in the air. Your little pussy finally rewarded his hard work with a rush of slick soaked the sheets and his face further. Swiftly removing his fingers again with a disgraceful squelch, only for his tongue to dip into the cavern they left. He slurped and lapped up every drop of your nectar, quenching a thirst he never knew he had. 

Overstimulated clit trying to flinch away from each nerve-frying lick while your weeping walls beckoned his tongue to go deeper. The tightness in his pants was painful now, engorged tip rubbing against the fabric and soaking it in precum.

With his unyielding hold, his half-lidded eyes, and his unrelenting tongue lapping up all of your essence while bullying your poor nub, you were powerless. Unable to hide from his hungry gaze, nails digging into his unflinching hand, and chest heaving with the mounting pleasure in your core.

Scowl long replaced by a loose expression, the pleasure ripping through every fiber of your being. Shooting up from your curled toes to the eyes seeing only the back of your head, the edge growing closer and closer-

Alhaitham pulls away, your slick dripping down his chin glistening in the moonlight illuminating the room. Cruelly pulling back from the edge before you could taste true euphoria. No, he doesn’t think you deserve it yet. Flipping your body effortless on your back, wrists now pinned above your head.

His teal eyes drank the sight of your breast bouncing with each pant, puffy cunt clenching desperately, and the glimmering tearful eyes rivaling the stars themselves. A sight so sinful the devil is writhing in envy. 

“What the fuck?!” You thrashed in his hold again, mourning the lost of the orgasm your body was denied. 

“With this attitude, you should be grateful for what you got. I’m tired of waiting.” Alhaitham sneers next to your ear, chest pressed against yours before his warmth pulls away. 

Tugging his pants and boxers down his thighs with a hand still coated in your nectar, trailing kisses and red splotches in the valley of your breast as his precum and your slick mixed with each stroke of his shaft. The wet sounds even reached your ears.

Making the mistake of looking down, your eyes widened as they comprehended his length and girth. Your restless pussy twitching but your legs closing as to preserve the last of your ego. Something thick pressed against your dripping pussy making your hole quiver and legs freeze as his tip threatens breach your entrance.

“Trying to be coy now? When you were moaning like a whore mere minutes ago.” Smug teal eyes peering down at you. 

Another frown breaks onto your face at his pointed words. Your tongue is just as sharp, best to remind him of that fact.

“What a practiced line, you say the same things to her as well?” A mocking smile curling your lip as a scowl tugs down at his.

Too self-satisfied with your small victory to notice his large hand gripping onto your hips, aligning himself with you. With a sinful squelch, Alhaitham snaps his cock fully in. Your lips thrown open with a gasp as your back arches off the mattress.

“I. Never. Had. An. Affair. So, instead of spewing out anymore nonsense, why don’t you just moan instead?” Puncuating each word with thrust of his hips, feeling the vibration of each syllable in his chest pinned against yours. 

Jagged words ready at the tip of your tongue, yet you couldn’t form a single sentence. With a broken moan your back slowly descended back onto the sheets.

Tearing a hiss from his clenched teeth and a breathless moan from you, gummy walls contracting down tighter and tighter with each girthy inch pushed as his balls slap against the slick down your ass. Nothing could’ve prepared him for this. Alhaitham stays there, tip pressed against the deepest part of you, a furrow between his brows.

Alhaitham knows he should be gentle. He knows he should allow your walls to grow accustomed to his girth by slowly rolling his hips against yours. 

However, you just won’t stay still. Mewling and whining against his frame, nails clawing at his hand as your legs fluttered in the air. Each movement makes your pussy slurp around his stiff cock, lapping at the girth as if trying to pull him deeper than he already was. 

Tempting his hunger like a lunatic testing a starved beast, it’ll only be so long before the hunger bends the iron bars containing it and devours you. 

“AH!” A sharp slap of his hips rips a moan from your lips. 

Alhaitham pulls you off his cock until the tip threatens to slip out, then thrusts it all back in one fluid motion. Instinctively your teeth clamps down on your disobedient lips, desperately trying to bite back those lewd noises. The slurping of your greed welcoming him over and over was embarrassing enough. 

What a selfish move, trying to deprive him once more of your pretty moans. Provoking that ugly appetite within the pits of his stomach again. If you won’t behave, Alhaitham decides to fuck the stubborness out of you. 

Each thrust of his hips into yours rocking the sturdy bed, bullying your poor sensitive pussy still recovering from a ruined orgasm. Hands and hips held within bruising grips. The pitched gasps every time he railed into a certain spot didn’t escape his keen ears, his hips now angled to bully that spot with each thrust.

How helpless you were to the devastating rush of dopamine, endorphins, and oxytocin. Unable to ground yourself on anything, your last wisps of sanity swept away by the waves of pleasure. 

A groan reverberates deep in Alhaitham’s chest, the sudden convulsions of your slick walls trying to milk him. It was almost impossible to move with the way your pussy just kept clamping down.

Unfortunately, his hips couldn’t seem to care, operating solely on selfish desire.

Fortunately, a fresh wave of arousal aided in his rhythm, relentless slams bouncing your body and bed. 

Strength long leaving your arms Alhaitham releases his hold on them in favor of supporting your limp hips, a breathy chuckle leaving his lips as lust-hazed eyes honed in on the frothy white ring forming on his shaft.

All your lips could do was babble out nothings as the headboard continued to beat the poor wall. Cunt thanking his cock with a contraction every time his tip knocks against your weakness. 

The sweet moans caressing his ears, the filthy slaps echoing through the room, and your walls pulling him deeper and deeper, Alhaitham was at his limit.

There was nothing separating you two, he had enough sense left to know that. Reeling in the reins of his greed, he pulls back, fingers digging deeper into your plush skin. Well, he tried to pull back, but your locked ankles behind his back foiled this plan. 

He felt so hefty in you, heavy balls slapping against your ass as his girth and length tore apart your sensibility. Something deep inside your cunt pleaded to be fed, to be filled, pushing your limp legs to lock ankles.

He feels a bit too far for your liking, blindly your hands groped at his body. Finally, reaching his face, cupping it roughly, you crash his lips down onto yours. Tasting yourself on his tongue still, but you couldn’t care less.

As your tongues tangled together, Alhaitham reached his limit. Pressing his thick tip as deep as it’d go, thick ropes of cum start to coat your walls with each twitch of his cock. His shaky moans swallowed up by your kiss.

The slurping of your pussy milking his still throbbing cock only prolonged his hunger. 

Dropping his head into the space between your neck and shoulder, he relishes in what he’s been depriving himself of. Feeling the faint shiver of your neck against his face.

Something was fogging up his mind, Autumn breeze doing nothing to quell the heat burning him.

–

“Ah! Mmmh! A-ah Ah!” 

The first rays of dawn breaking through the navy sky, the light so flushed by the scene it witnessed, it’s pink hue illuminated skin into the room heavy with lust and the slap of wet skin. 

“N-no more… too m-Ah!-much-ch.” Intoxicated brain sputtering out broken sentences. 

 It really was too much, you’ve cum too much to bother remembering, from the creamy drops dripping onto the soaked sheets, he’s also cummed too much.

Pussy overflowing and spasming with each thrust pushing more milky seed out.

Cock rubbing its red tip rawer with each quiver of your gooey walls. 

Six years of starvation will make any man forget gluttony is a sin.

“Too much? No More?” A husky pant between each word as Alhaitham continues with his punishing rhythm. 

“If that’s the case… then why is your pussy refusing to let me go?” His chest pressed against your back, caging you further as his breath tickles your ear. 

Unable to form a sentence anymore, your head pathetically shook side to side, stubbornly denying the obvious. Looks like he hasn’t fucked out of you yet, better change that. Large fingers digging further down on bruised hips, as the pistoning of his thrusts escalated.

Bed frame pushed to its limits.

Each smack of his hips against your limp body further drowning your pride out in a flood of dopamine. It’s mounting again, that familiar pressure building up in your core, making your toes curl in painful arches.

There’s a sudden flick at your swollen clit, walls flinching as his fingers encircles around the abused nub. 

“Who’s making you feel this way?” His husky voice too close to your ear.

Groundless pride preventing you from unsealing you lips, refusing to feed into his ego anymore than your wanton moans already did. 

“Who are you showing this shameful face to?” There’s an edge to his voice again, why must you be so stubborn?

Once more you refused to answer. Making Alhaitham’s jaw clench and his fingers roll your clit harsher, making your bruised hips thrash.  

“Who’s shape is engrained into this lewd body?” Voice dangerously low as he pushes his thick tip deeper against your beaten and painted walls, fingers never stopping their torment on your little nub. 

The edge was getting closer, you knew you’ll fall off it soon, you’ll dive head first into the euphoric sea of dopamine, endorphins, and oxytocin and drown.

“Ah-ah Al-mmh!” You try to collect your breath.

Alhaitham quickens his fingers on your clit, feeling your greedy cunt clamp down on him again, walls suckling his twitching tip as his balls tighten. He’s close, but he needs you to say what he’s been waiting to hear all night. 

“Alh-ah a-a…” Your hips shaking violently in his hold now. 

Lust-glazed eyes staring straight into equally hazed teal eyes. Shaky hands slowly weaving themselves into his damp ash locks, gently pulling his ear closer to your lips, your hoarse voice just barely audible.

“A bastard.” 

Self-satisfied smirk plastered over your loose face as your tear blurred vision catches the stunned expression on his handsome face. 

The heat of his touch, the chemical stirring in your brain, and the pleasure frying your nerves made a delirious smile grace smudged lips. Your sight so hazed by lust you couldn’t see where your smile was even directed to.

Alhaitham wanted to etch the sight of your debauch face, smeared makeup and glazed eyes rolled back, into his memories forever.

Too caught off guard by your response to remind his hand to stop its movement before it was already too late. Eyes seeing the back of your head, back arching under his frame, you fell back into the all consuming waves of pleasure. 

A hard earned victory in this veiled battle of two egos. Exhaustion seeping into every fiber of your being. The pale pink of twilight dimming in your vision as the dark hands of sleep covers your eyes.

Somewhere in the middle of drifting off into a blank nothingness, you feel a hand tenderly guiding your head to rest on a soft pillow. 

Your eyelids twitch and brows furrow as the brightness of the room crept its way behind your shut eyes. Unable to retreat back into the dark embrace of sleep, you begrudgingly open your heavy lids.

Greeted by blurred shapes and fuzzy colors, you slowly blink your unfocused eyes. Gradually, the shapes and colors merge into distinguishable objects: a mug left on your bedside table with vapors rising from its rim. 

“It’s morning-after tea.” A husky voice followed by the distinct flip of paper tenses every muscle in your body. 

Alhaitham’s still here. You wish he wasn’t, you wish he’d realize last night was a mistake created from the clashing of egos, you wish the other side of your bed was empty.

So why did the tightness in your chest melt away with the mere sound of his voice?

You drag your sore body up from the sheets, shaky hands supporting the weight of numb legs and throbbing hips. Your sealed lips refusing to give him the satisfaction of any audible ques of your current state.

Sitting at the edge of your bed, back bare of anything but your hair draping over the marked skin facing him, you took the warm cup into your hands. 

A harmony of methodical sips and soft turns of pages fill the room, an open window washing away the haze of lust with an Autumn breeze. Just as the last bit of tea slides down your throat a gentle slap of a book snapping close brings an end to the heavy silence. 

“It’s unreliable,” Alhaitham announces. 

Peering over your shoulder with a quirked brow, freezing as you recognize the book clutched in his hands. Not waiting for a response, he continues. 

“Anyone with eyes can see how his biases exude through each sentence. He only studied 15 couples, not an appropriate sample size for a world filled with millions of pairs. His experiments have yet to be replicated, it seems his status is what got this nonsense published.” He sets the book down. 

“What are you trying to say?” Your eyes narrow in suspicion. 

“Your theory of phenylethylamine having a shelf life is based on nonsense.” His eyes connect with yours with that familiar indifference. 

A frown twists your face, so he still wants to argue huh. Of course, what else did you expect? You and him have long gone down the bitter circular path you’ve seen travled before.

Irritation rising in your chest, like Alhaitham had jabbed his finger into a wound you’ve yet to heal. 

“Oh, then your theory must be the intrinsic truth, huh?” Words leaving an acidic aftertaste on your tongue. 

“I never-”

“Look at you, so correct with no data to support your vague mathematical thesis.” You cut him off, anger replacing the soreness of your legs. 

Cup knocking against a bedside table as your hand casts it to the side, getting off the bed you march into your closet, pulling a random shirt on without regard of your movements wrinkling the fabric.

You just needed to leave this room, just being by his side is making your blood pressure rise. Your bed creaks as Alhaitham gets up as well, but your back was already through the door. 

Two sets of steps trekking through the halls, paces mismatched as one tries to take quicker steps to counter the broader strides of the other. Alhaitham keeps pace with your escalating march. 

“It’s a critique of his research, not you,” he voices. 

You didn’t want to hear it, sharply pivoting into your home office, but you weren’t fast enough to stop Alhaitham from following you in.

Now a husband wants to spend time with his wife, where was this before? 

“It’s an experiment conducted at the Akademiya, how is that not reliable enough? You think you can do better?” Your body whipping around with a glare directed at him, your hideous ego showing its face again. 

“Are you listening to yourself right now? Do you even believe in such a shallow analysis?” He mirrors your glare. 

“I’d rather believe in something with actual quantifiable numbers.” 

“Fine, you want quantifiable numbers? Care to calculate along with me? Or is your mind still recovering from last night?” Alhaitham folds his arms in front of his chest. 

“Go for it,” you say through gritted teeth, accepting his challenge, wanting to shush that snooty tone of his. 

“The Akasha bases its pairs off demographic, interest, and dispositions, all variables we can calculate,” he states. 

You straighten up your back, staring him in those teal eyes with your head held up high.

“Sumeru city is home to roughly 1 million people. Only 1/3 are around my age.” Alhaitham begins his trail.

“That brings that number down to about 333,333.” No delay in your response.

“Only 1 in 10 people have a personality I can tolerate, then suppose only 1 in 20 of those people can withstand mine.”

“ Rounding up that leaves about 1,667 candidates.” You tsk at his estimations, that number should be far greater than 20. 

 “Next comes shared interest, only 1 in 4 people have touched a physical book in the past year.” 

“417 left.”

Perhaps the gods didn’t think cheating you out of a childhood was enough, out of 417 people you had the misfortune of staring at his stony face. 

“Having to arrange 417 separate meetings at a small cafe would be much too burdensome for the Department of Human Relations. The scope needs to be narrowed further.” Alhaitham takes a step forward.

“Only 1 in 16 will have the patience to teach a grown man how to avoid wrinkles in his button downs.” Baritone voice losing its pointed edge. 

“26 left.”  You take a step back to preserve the space, hating how your skin craves the heat of his. 

“Only 1 in 8 of those people will allow me to borrow their books even when they know the edges of the paper will be creased when its returned.” He takes another step.

As you take another step backwards, the edge of your office desk prevents you from retreating further. The sensation of the cold wood distracting you momentarily from your calculations. 

“Then only 1 in 6 people will drape a blanket over a body that hogs an entire couch for a nap, placing a pillow under my head to ensure I don’t wake up with a sore neck.” Alhaitham doesn’t stop. 

Reaching an arm out, he firmly sets his palm on the expanse of your desk, caging you between the wood and the risk of your skin feeling the heat radiating off his body. 

“How many people are left now?” His breath ghosts the shell of your ear.

“ 0.543,” You blurted out.

A deep furrow appears between your brows, something must’ve gone wrong in your calculation, it’s impossible to have half a person. In the context of the Akasha, one person, a whole person, is matched to another.

Once more your mind ran the numbers over again, then again, and then thrice trying to recompute the figures. 

Each time the same number came back: half a person. 

“Are you mocking me with those groundless fractions? Where did you even get those statistics from?” Your pointed gaze still directed at him, did he intentionally lead you down this illogical trail? 

“Logic is neither an art nor a science but a dodge.” He peers down at you, teal gaze back to its neutral state. 

“Ha! Says the man who places logic and rationality on a pedestal, what caused such a change, Alhaitham?” You laugh dryly, not bothering to decipher the most brainless qoute you ever heard him use. 

No change in his expression as his shoulders rise with a deep inhale, exhaling slowly as he leans his face in, his finger digging his palm against lacquered wood.��

“Instead of wasting time citing subpar research, you should’ve just been honest. Then maybe I’ll give you what you want and sign those damn papers you hid away in this desk.” Voice low but steady as his gaze never leaves your frame. 

It was a strange phenomenon, the chirping of the crickets had halted as two bodies remained unmoving, not even a single grain of dust dare move. If it weren’t for the faint ticking of a hallway clock, it would’ve seemed like time had stopped.

How long has he known about the divorce papers neatly stacked away a desk drawer?

Alhaitham slowly backs his body away from yours, hand returning to his side, freeing you from the cage it created. Teal eyes carefully observes your downcast stare and stiff shoulders as guilt suffocated him.

All the emotions he bottled up, all the fervor he held back, all the desires he swallowed down. It all came tumbling out, spilling out into a murky, repulsive mess. 

“Wife.” If he had spoken any louder than a breathy whisper, that word would’ve crumbled on his tongue. 

“I love you.” Alhaitham finally allows the words which have been clinging on his tongue for years now to fall out of his mouth. 

Every inch of you froze at those three words, the weight of his stare heavy on your shoulders.

“Do you really feel nothing from those words?” Baritone voice beckoning an answer from you. 

You don’t dare lift your head, gaze downcasted and frozen. Because you know you’ll have to stare at your reflection in his eyes. 

Phenylethylamine, oxytocin, dopamine.

All these hormones and chemicals should’ve ran their course through your body. The haze should’ve faded and the abnormality of your chest should’ve corrected itself. It’s been three years at this point.

So, why is your chest aching?

The wood grain of the floor began to blur together as bitter tears compensated for the painful stinging of your irises. There it is, your brain finally short-circuits as the logic which once held up your sanity has crumbled away. 

Finally, you met his gaze, staring right at your reflection in teal irises. 

“It’s suffocating to be with you… it’s so lonely in this quiet house… it burns me like fire to touch you… yet… and y-yet see-”

“Seeing you leave will kill me, ” Alhaitham spoke the words just about to fall from the tip of your tongue.

The last piece of evidence that shattered the hypothesis he cultivated for all his life. If soulmates don’t exist, if the concept of an ‘other half’ doesn’t exist, then why is he feeling the same agony as you?

Looks like both theories were wrong in the end. Mathematics and chemistry unable to solve the enigma known as love. 

“I… I want to love… but I’m drowning… Alhaitham.” You were finally honest, you’ve been drowning all your life, thrashing hands searching for something to hold onto.

Would you be oh so kind enough to grab that pen just behind you and stab its steel nib into his chest? Alhaitham’s certain that it would hurt less than the words that left your trembling lips. 

A gentle hand cradled the back of your head as he pulls you closer. Letting those bitter tears strain his shirt and burn his skin.

No one, but the audience of a curious star and capricious gods peering down behind their blanket of clouds into this quiet house. 

Alhaitham once thought of himself as a good husband. Doing his fair share of chores and paying his half of the bills.

However, seeing your broken figure barely clinging onto his stiff frame, it’s clear that his overconfident assessment was a grave error. 

A  good husband would’ve been more attentive. A good husband would’ve noticed the tide slowly sweeping you away into the rough sea. A good, loving husband would’ve never let you sink alone in salty tears.

“Then I’ll drown with you.” His other hand grasping onto one of yours, slowly easing it away from his wrinkled shirt with soft caresses. 

Only monsters live in the deep cold sea, the only creatures able to survive the saltine waters and the pitch black nothingness. But as long as your fingers wove themselves into the gaps between his, he’ll be warm even as he sits on the sandy bottom of the murky ocean. 

Maybe that’s where the two of you belonged, two unromantic and prideful fools sitting at the bottom of the ocean.

Hand in hand so that the stupidity contained between the two of you won’t pollute anyone else. 

Gradually, those aching hiccups of yours faded into nothing more than muffled whimpers. Allowing silence to creep its way back into the gaps. The cause of this mess in the first place.

He has to remedy this, but what should he say? All those encyclopedias and journals he had thumbed through were all for naught. For Alhaitham’s mind couldn’t recall one fact from those pages.

One hand patting a slow rhythm into your back, trying to buy the man some time.

When logic and reasoning fail to explain the unexplained, folklore takes its place.

“According to legends, people used to have two pairs of hands, two pairs of feet, and two faces pointed in opposite directions.” He began.

“Back then, humans were powerful, powerful enough to threaten the gods who created them. So the gods split them in two. Cursing humans to a cruel search, desperate to be whole again.” His other hand still toying with your fingers.

You peer up at him, head still resting against his chest, feeling the soft beating of his heart. Blinking away the tears, listening to his telling of a myth. 

“That’s the origin of a soulmate.” He finishes.

A soft giggle leaves your lips, a mixture of confusion and disbelief from Alhaitham quoting a fairytale. 

“And you believe in that?” Amused gaze connecting with brilliant beryl eyes. 

“Yes…because I found you.” Alhaitham tenderly brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss against your fingers as a glint catches the sunlight. 

With a foreign sensation hugging a finger, your brows furrow. Holding your hand out toward the light again. Blinking eyes finally identify the gem which coyly appeared on your ring finger.

So that’s what he was doing, your tear stained cheeks shifting up as a smile stretches your once stiff lips.

Burying your head in the chest of the most unromantically romantic idiot you’ve ever known, a radiant laugh bubbling in your chest as it resonates off quiet walls. 

But as he is, so are you: An unromantically romantic soulmate in love. 

~Fin

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

[goldfish-afterhours]

Genshin Characters When They Realize They Love You

Characters: Kaeya, Childe, Zhongli, Xiao x gn!reader

Type/genre: Bulleted headcanons, fluff, slight angst

Warnings: Self-doubt/anxiety, not proofread

Kaeya

Knows he loves you when you tolerate his antics

You see through his flirtatious mask, and though you may roll your eyes in exasperation sometimes, you never lose your patience with him

Sometimes you even join in on his bits, telling tall tales to children or helping him convince the town that drinks were half-off at the Angel’s Share tonight

“If enough people believe it, then Master Diluc has to follow through, right? Can’t let his regulars down~”

Kaeya has been itching to say those three words. He can feel it creeping up his throat everytime you scold him for taking his tricks too far, everytime you smile at him

But for some reason, he finds himself holding back

What if you leave? What if you perceive it as weakness?

What if you don’t love him back?

He knows these thoughts are irrational, but he cannot stop his worst fears from creeping into his head

But the longer he waits to say it, the deeper of a hole he digs for himself

He loved you with his entire being. He was only trying to protect himself

So how come you were standing in front of him, hands covering your face as you sobbed that he didn’t love you?

Upon seeing you in that state, in a panic Kaeya forgets about the scared little boy in the rain, and the words come rushing out before he can stop them

“I’m sorry. I love you, I love you more than anything in this world, I promise. I…I love you. So please…don’t cry.”

Childe

Realizes he loves you just as you are beating someone up for information

Not surprisingly, Childe is addicted to the thrill that danger brings. And if the thrill comes in the form of you, isn’t it obvious he is addicted to you as well?

And what else could that be but love?

Also he’s just into people who can beat him up

No such thing as a bad time or place. The moment he realizes he loves you, those three words are already flying out of his mouth

Everyone in the situation was stunned—it was enough to make you stop punching the treasurer hoarder in the face, and the treasurer horder was staring at him dumbfounded through bloodied, swollen eyes

“Don’t mind me, I just felt like saying it. As you were, then?”

Zhongli

Knows he’s in love with you when you remember the things he forgets

As a god, there weren’t many things he had to remember to carry on his physical person, so he’s still getting used to it

After all, what use is food to an immortal being, an umbrella when his clothes were already soaked in blood, or mora to the God of Money?

But after leaving his archonhood behind, he has to start carrying such things around

He’s trying his best, but is still getting used to it so he frequently forgets

But you remember for him

You show up at his workplace, lunchbox in hand, chiding him for forgetting when you worked so hard cooking it this morning

You show up just as he clocks out for the day, a large umbrella held over your head to block the pitter-patter of the rain, saying how you didn’t want him to get his new suit wet

You chase after Zhongli on his way to the marketplace, scolding him between pants for making you run to give him his wallet

You could’ve let him suffer the consequences for his airheadedness, but instead you go out of your way to cover for him, and he loves you so much for it

The next time you give him something he forgot, he thanks you with a kiss

“Thank you for bringing it for me, my flower. I love you.”

Xiao

Realizes he loves you when you stay, despite it all

You’re not afraid of him. Even as a bringer of death and destruction, you don’t even hesitate to be around him

Even as the dark forces of his karmic ties suffocate him, you stay by his side, comforting him with quiet encouragements as he endures the pain

It’s not just because you’re the only thing keeping him sane. Even when the whispers grow quiet, you bring a sense of peacefulness and serenity to Xiao, one he hasn’t felt in thousands of years

You make him feel safe

You’ve made it clear to him that you’re not going anywhere, and he cannot begin to express how much he needed you to ground him

On one of the days the demons become head-splittingly loud in his ears, you cradle him in your arms, whispering sweet nothings to overpower the voices

Slowly but steadily, they grew quieter and quieter, until all Xiao could hear was your honeyed voice and the sound of his own harsh breathing

Overcome with appreciation for you, he opened his mouth to say something, but he was exhausted

All he could utter were three words that only began to dip into the reverence he has for you

“I…love you.”

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Hiiii since it’s my birthday really soon, can I get Hu Tao, Yae Miko, Chiori, UMP45 and Makoto from P5 celebrating readers birthday?? Maybe a surprise party?!?!?!?!

(Genshin Impact/GFL/P5) Hu Tao, Yae Miko, Chiori, UMP45, and Makoto celebrating Reader's birthday

Oh god, I hope I'm still on time for this.

(Hu Tao) "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Hu Tao pops out of absolutely nowhere and scares the hell out of (Y/N), but she is beaming with energy.

Despite the fact the clock had just struck midnight, and S/O was in their own room.

(Hu Tao) "Soooo, what do you plan on doing? Got any cake for today?"

(Y/N) "Hu Tao, I'm trying to sleep. We can talk about this in the morning...Actually, how did you even get in my house?!"

(Hu Tao) "Details we can discuss after your birthday plans! Now, what do you want for today? I can try my best to get you a good sale!"

(Y/N) "Well, it's not a coffin or ghost, I'll tell you that much..."

(Hu Tao) "Wow, buzzkill! I guess I won't treat you to Xiangling's today after all!"

Hu Tao is definitely the type to throw a surprise party, though it's not much of a surprise since she appeared in their bedroom.

Later when it's actually a humane time of day, she invites them over to her home to celebrate properly!

She still wishes they could've had the celebration late at night though, Hu Tao had a lot of jokes planned...

Normally, Yae is supposed to do a formal recital of wishing a pleasant birthday.

But to hell with that, that was boring.

Yae decides to wish (Y/N) a happy birthday in her own way.

(Yae) "(Y/N), I expect to have a good meal today."

(Y/N) "Shouldn't I be the one saying that to you?"

(Yae) "Perhaps, but surely you don't plan on going anywhere mundane to eat for such a very special occasion, right?"

(Y/N) "N-Not if it's going to bankrupt all of my Mora!"

(Yae) "Oh come now, I do not eat that much."

(Y/N) "Wait, why am I paying for you on my birthday?!"

(Yae) "Well, thank you for offering! You're such a kind soul!"

(Y/N) sigh

She doesn't really host a party for (Y/N), at least not by herself. But at the very least, she'll make it a damn entertaining day, for better and worse.

Oh, (Y/N)'s birthday. Neat, Chiori supposed.

(Chiori) "Yes yes, happy birthday and all that."

(Y/N) "Hah, calm down there Chiori, you're getting a bit too excited."

(Chiori) "I hope you don't expect me to have cake and balloons ready to spring out at you."

(Y/N) "Frankly, I'd be more shocked if you did."

(Chiori) "At least you understand that part."

Bluntness aside, Chiori handcrafts (Y/N) a nice present before their very eyes.

A handmade gift could speak more than a million bought gifts ever could.

As much as Navia would disagree with her.

(Y/N) has better chances of Chiori throwing them a surprise party as they would surviving a lightning strike from the Raiden Shogun herself.

45's smile seems to soften when (Y/N) enters the dorm, though it was nearly pitch black.

(UMP45) "Well, you took your sweet time coming back."

(Y/N) "45? Why are you in my-"

UMP9 leapt out from underneath the table as the lights came on. HK416 was leaning against the wall while G11 was face first on the same table, sleeping away.

And in the middle appeared to be a cake that looked...ambitious, to put it kindly.

(UMP45) "Happy birthday.~"

UMP9 blew on a party horn, the small paper unfolding and making a small doot noise as her arms extended in joy.

HK416 simply shrugged and grunted, and G11 was still comatose.

(Y/N) "T-Thank you guys! You didn't really need to-"

(UMP45) "Not really, but I figured it'd be fun to celebrate something special with you."

Her smile only seemed to grow when (Y/N) joined her, watching the chaos unfold as UMP9 tried to cut a cake, despite the fact the knife was getting dangerously close to G11's unkempt hair.

(UMP45) "Thought I'd bring the squad along to have fun too. Clearly it's working better than I thought."

(Y/N) "This is already so chaotic though!"

(UMP45) "Exactly."

Makoto is caught off guard when (Y/N) enters the room, holding a small cake with a candle in it.

The cake itself seemed terribly made, as it looked like it'd crumble if one simply stared at it for too long.

(Makoto) "U-Um...Welcome back! I tried to make something for you myself and...you see how that worked."

Makoto sighed but (Y/N) laughed, giving a comforting hand on her shoulder.

(Y/N) "I appreciate it, still. But hey it smells really good!"

(Makoto) "And the taste...?"

(Y/N) took a bite out of it, and smiled, turning back to Makoto.

(Y/N) "Honestly, not bad! I'm not dead yet!"

Makoto chuckled as she sighed.

(Makoto) "Well, I suppose that's good reassurance."

Makoto would fail instantly at a surprise party, mostly because she'd spend too much time to get it ready, only for (Y/N) to walk in way too early.

[scienceninjaturtle]

MULTIVERSUS: COLLISION DETECTED #5

Written by BRYAN Q. MILLER

Art by JON SOMMARIVA

Cover by DAN MORA

Variant cover by JON SOMMARIVA

1:25 variant cover by KENNETH ROCAFORT

$4.99 US | 32 pages | Variant $5.99 US (card stock)

ON SALE 11/13/24

With a countdown clock ticking down toward zero and skies filled with the villainous Devoid’s digitizing drones, Steven Universe’s Multiversus Force prepares for the worst beneath Wayne Manor. But with the Joker, the Wicked Witch, Harley Quinn, and Brainiac all under the same roof, it’s only a matter of time before an already explosive situation outright self-destructs!

[andallshallbewell]

[bubble-butterflys]

2.272k words

Cat-Hybrid Anemo boys x reader

It was a Normal day Aether did his daily commissions he was actually excited because for once a change was coming today was the day he would see his friends from all across the nation they agreed to meet in mondstant in a field by the anemo statue which was funny cause non other then the anemo archon himself would be there

Aether walked though town smiling and waving at people and saw Sarah’s food stand and heard Paimon voice “paimon thinks maybe we should get some of their favorite food!”

Aether smiled slightly and nodded his head in agreement and walked towards her stand sarah smiled at him “Hello aether what do you need?”

Aether smiled at her “Hi,can I see the menu?” Sarah nodded and handed it to him aether looked at it until he spotted his friends favorites foods and bought them with some Mora he just earned from the commissions.

After he payed he smiled and waved by to her heading in his way to go meet at the statue.he passed by kaeya and smiled and him waving but didn’t stop not wanting to be late he though did before leaving the city

Head over to the tavern and picked up some dandelion wine,he payed and thanked the bar tender and some hurried out the city and towards the spot they would be meeting

He saw venti already there and walked towards him smiling “Hello venti” venti smiled “hello Aether took you long enough Ehe” Aether rolled his eyes softly and went to sit down beside venti “well to be fair no one else is here yet”

Venti laughed and pointed up aether looked up and saw xiao sitting in a tree just facing away from them and seemed to be as relaxed as he could be

“Hello xiao” xiao turned around and jumped off the tree and went to sit beside venti “hello Aether” they soon sat in a comfortable silence when they heard the sound of laughter and saw Heizou walk towards them hand resting behind his head.

And kazuha walking beside him smiling at him they saw them and aether and venti waved them over as xiao nodded at them confirming it was nice to see them

“Come on guys we’re almost ready we just need one more person “ venti said smiling and Heizou and kazuha took a seat and then they heard someone walking towards them they turned and xiao looked out the corner of his eye and they saw dark hair and that belonged to non other then Wanderer he walked toward them and rolled his eyes when pamion yelled at him

“Hey you’re late!” Floating angrily Wanderer just sat down between Aether and Heizou “some of us have important things to do.” Aether shook his head slightly but then reached into his bag and brought out the food he bought and handed it to everyone they smiled thanking him

And they ate as Heizou asked “ what were you doing that caused you to be late wanderer” wanderer looked at him and smirked “I doubt you could understand even if I told you”

While he said that paimon noticed something stuck on his hat it was a feather that seemed to have some dust on it she felt some go in her nose and sneezed blowing the dust on all the boys who were eating pamion wiped her eyes after she sneezed then looked around only to find nothing but a boy told of dandelion wine and unfinished food..

Somewhere in another world there was a girl who was 19 she was currently waking up to the loud sound of her alarm clocking that reminded her she had Collage that day

She got up stretching then walked towards her bathroom and looked in the mirror and sighed when she noticed the eye bags under her eyes seemed to grow since the last time she saw them.

She walked past the mirror now and headed to the shower turning it on then going towards the sink to brush her teeth and then wash her face before taking off her clothes and jumping in the shower

She let the warm water flow down her skin and relaxed as it happened she then made sure to not take too long.

Once she was done she left the bathroom and went to grab her cloths she got dressed in a outfit she enjoyed it wear then headed back to the bathroom to do her hair once she was done she walked downstairs

She walked to the kitchen and found a note left by her parents it said that they would be away on a year long business trip Y/n wasn’t surprised though it happened a lot so she grew use to it

She headed towards the kitchen and grabbed an apple and then walked towards the tv room where she grabbed her backpack making sure she had every thing

Once she was sure she picked up her bag and grabbed her car keys then left making sure to lock the door after her then went and jumped in her car

Backing up before driving off she drove towards her friend johns house,John was 20 he has been her friend since middle school she parked I front of his house then called him

“Come on John we’re gonna be late if you don’t bring your self out here” she heard doors shutting on the the phone and johns voice “yea yea I’m coming you can’t be that excited to go to school”

Y/n rolled her eyes and hung up and leaned back in her seat and scrolled on instagram she saw a post from Genshin impact saying a new update would be coming out to say Y/n wasn’t excited would be a lie.

She then saw John walk out the house his tan skin and curly hair greeting her she unlocked the door and John jumped into the passenger seat and threw his bag in the back

“hi Y/n! You should have went to the party yesterday it was so my much fun!!” Y/n laughed lightly and started to drive towards their collage “I bet it was and I would have gone but I wasn’t invited remember?”

John looked at her sadly and then. Sighed and looked out the window “oh yea..I’m sorry y/n I would have invited you if I could” jaz shook her her head and looked at him at a red light “I know you would have buts it’s fine really I had fun at home”

John nodded at her and they fell into a comfortable silence as Y/n drove closer to the collage they pulled into the parking lot and got out making sure not to forget their bags.

Y/n and John smiled and waved goodbye as they had different classes most for the day,Y/n walked to her first class of the day and went to sit in the back where she normally sat

She brought out her phone and put her AirPods in and started to play some music relaxing as she scrolled though Pinterest,but jumped when she felt someone tip her AirPod out she turned and saw sue a girl the same age as her buys a total brat..

“Hi N/N what you listing too?” She moved the air pod to her ear then frowned and dropped it to the floor “ew your music really is trash you know..” Y/n rolled her eyes and didn’t answer and leaned over picking up the headphone and about to put it back in

When Sue grabbed her wrist “hey come on I’m talking to you!”Y/n glared at her “I know that…why do you think I’m trying to put it back in?”

Sue glared at any student who dared to at least smirk at what Y/n said she then turned to Y/n and grabbed her chin digging her long nails into her face and made her look up at her

“You know that was a bitch move..your lucky the teacher is here or else I would have dragged you across the floor by your hair.”

Y/n glared at her and tried to pry the girls hand on his face feeling disgusted by just the girls touch.Sue soon let go feeling she got her message across then laughed and walked back towards her girl group

Y/n sighed and out her headphone back in until class started she wrote down the notes but could hear sue and her friends talking about her

“Doesn’t she know?” She heard Sue’s friend LoLo. “No way she’s to dumb to realize that she is so ugly that’s why she always thinks she can talk back” she heard sue say and after that her little squad all giggled together

Y/n wished the class would end faster hit it seemed it really wouldn’t..Y/n was so glad when the bell rang she wouldn’t have to see Sue again at least until the last class of the day

But somewhere in a alley not to far from Y/N’s home 6 boys now awoke but something was different Aether groaned and stood shakily but noticed he wasn’t as tall as he was he gasped when he turned and saw not his friend but 5 cats..

One cat has white fur but red strip on its head and on its tail and it’s paws had red gloves type fur he then saw another in that was violet sorta and had a black strip of fur on its head and ears then another one that was dark green sorta and had a pearl collar of the sorts

He noticed there were two more cars one bad dark purple fur and seemed like red eyeliner in the corner of each eye he then saw the other had grey green fur with turquoise on the ends of its ears and tail..

Aether was beyond confused he walked towards one of hit them with his own paw which he noticed was blond the one he hit was the dark green type one it looked at him almost tilted its head “aether..” aether squinted slightly “xiao?” The cat nodded slowly

Aether turned to the others and saw them waking up he then heard venti’s voice “uh I’m allergic to cats..” he then heard wanderers voice “don’t be stupid your a cat too”

He then saw venti look at himself and his eyes widen slightly he then saw Heizou outing his paws on Kazuha head and standing

“Guys I don’t think we’re in tervat anymore..” Aether looked around and noticed this wasn’t like any world he really went to with lumine before but he could tell he traveled worlds again..issue how would they get home?

While the Boys were struggling a bored Y/n sat in her last class lucky for her Sue and her friends seemed to have decided to skip and go home.So she had it easy as soon as the bell rang she went to go try to find john to take him him

But she saw a text instead it read that he was going home with his boyfriend and was okay,Y/n shrugged and went to get in her car she drove home not stopping if she got hungry she could just cook herself something

She drove into her garage and got out but stopped when she heard…meowing? She walked towards the noice and saw a few cats to say they were adorable would be a understatement

She awed at them on the inside but then noticed some rain start to falls he walked towards them and picked them up best she could and ignored the hisses she got from a few of them she walked inside her house and put them down and then walked towards the kitchen

She decided she could at least give them water she got 6 small bowls and put water in them and placed them down in front of the cats but all they did was look at her one that seemed to have eyeliner glared at her

She sighed “Well I’m Y/n…And I guess I’ll name you all…”

I looked at them then heard a sound on my phone I looked and noticed it was a Genshin impact notification saying the game would be down for a while I groaned in annoyance

I then noticed my screen saver and looked at the cats and smiled I bent down and pointed to the blond cat on the end “I’ll name you Aether!” I then turned to the one with violet like fur “I’ll name you Heizou” I then turned to the white cat and smiled “I’ll name you Kazuha”

I saw them all look at me confused but I ignored it just shaking it off as a cat thing I then pointed towards the one with grey green ish fur “I’ll name you venti and you I’ll name Wanderer” I named the last two then stood up smiling

I then walked towards my computer and started to work in my homework put felt a tug on my leg I looked down and noticed aether tugging my pants leg I turned to him

“What is it aether?” He walked towards the stairs and started hopping up them k noticed the other cats already at the top

We walked up and he leased me into my room and k er to the poster of the anemo boys I smiled and laughed slightly “oh them there from my favorite game Genshin impact I actually and you all after them!”

While she said that at her and the other cats though the same thing “A game?”

[legitalicat]

From The Book Emerges a Man (Part 1) - Miraak x Reader

AN: This is my first official request made by my spiritual twin the lovely @foxyanon ! It is also my first proper Skyrim fanfic! I was surprised to find I enjoyed writing this as much as I did. I think I may be a Miraak girl now. Also Miraak's appearance is inspired by both this fanart by buttery_roll on Instagram!

Masterlist here!

Summary: Hermaeus Mora, often regarded as a demonic trickster, has sentenced you to be responsible for Miraak for the rest of his days. You can't help but despise the former Dragon Priest. Until you realize that he's only human.

TW: Tentacles (not inherently sexual in context but still), violence, weapons, mentions of blood, tension, forced proximity trope, TENSION, talks of a cult, enemies to friends, no romance YET, Hermaeus Mora, vampires, no reader description except wears a dress

Pairings: Past Miraak x OC

Word Count: 3.3k

The First of the Dragonborns and the Last Dragonborn. You could imagine the bards singing of this legendary battle for the rest of the Era. A mythical tale centuries, maybe a few millennia, in the making.

Yet, you couldn’t do it. Staring at the former Dragon Priest before you, an arrow notched in your bow as you were prepared to release the final piercing blow, when you came to the realization. Hermaeus Mora would only use you to the end of your days. Yet, if Miraak were to live, you would be free. Having slain his dragons, Miraak was no longer a threat to Nirn.

So, you dropped the bow and turned away. You would exit the way you came with the Black Book. You were free, and free you would remain.

“No,” Hermaeus Mora said, appearing before you as the Wretched Abyss.

“I leave. He lives. You lose,” you said angrily. “I am tired of being the plaything to bastards who won’t handle their business themselves!”

“You wish for me to handle my business myself? So be it,” his voice echoed around you as though it emerged from the very air of his realm.

Tentacles emerged from the oily pool behind you and wrapped themselves around your neck. For a moment, you were ready. Sovngarde was a better fate, where you were revered and rewarded for your sacrifices to the world, than to be at Mora’s will for the rest of his days.

“You think I will kill you? No, foolish mortal. It is not your time, and it is not your fate,” Mora said to you, toying with you. “You are slated for more…divine prospects.”

“Fuck you,” you uttered as the tentacles squeezed tighter, inadvertently lifting you off the ground.

“Even fate may be changed should one so desire,” he told you, your vision going fuzzy at the edges as you struggled for air. “And since you have decided you shall change his, he is now yours. After all, you have a debt to be paid.”

He dropped you, his tentacles retreating to the ooze. You gasped for a breath when you hit your knees. The fuzziness disappeared as you stared at the ground. He couldn’t be serious.

“Miraak, the First Dragonborn, the betrayer of the Priests, the First Servant, your final task is to serve the Last Dragonborn until your last breath. You shall leave Apocrypha a mortal man once more, the clock beginning where it froze when I first brought you. This shall be your new fate.”

That was what brought you home to Skyrim, Miraak by your side. You knew it was easier than continuing to fight. You had relative freedom while forcing this betrayer of Men and Mer to help you in your duty to Nirn. It felt like justice enough.

Your first night back in Skyrim, you made your way by carriage to your home, Lakeview Manor. You had thought the first person you would bring there, aside from your housecarl Rayya that is, would be your husband. Never had you imagined you would be forced to share your home with a long unimportant Dragon Priest.

“This is where you will keep me? This…hovel?” he asked as you began to dismount the carriage. “I was a king!”

You pulled him down by his robes, and flung him into the dirt. You put your full weight on top of him, sitting with a knee on either side of his chest. You pulled Mehrune’s Dagger from its sheath on your side and held the blade to his throat.

“A king?” you snarled. “You were a tool, a puppet, to be used by Mora until your veins ran dry! And now he’s stuck you with me. Tell me, little worm, do you feel the threatening aura of this blade now? Now that you can once again die by a mortal’s hand, do you feel the fear you brought upon others?”

The fact he still insisted upon wearing the mask and robes from his days as a Dragon Priest infuriated you to no end. It kept you from seeing the fear this blade now instilled in him. You could feel it in the way his muscles tensed under you. The nikriin (coward) was so used to preying on those he could control and manipulate, he didn’t know how to play fair.

You moved your dagger from his throat and cut away at the fabric holding his golden mask in place. In anger, you threw it far from where you two were and watched it as it disappeared down the hill. And if the Divine were good, you would never see the stupid thing in your life again.

You were surprised when you turned back to face him. You had not known much of the Dragon Priests, if you were honest, at least not before you were declared Dragonborn. So, you truly had not expected the man before you.

You would be surprised if Miraak was younger than forty, at least physically. There were fine lines on from the outer corners of his eyes. His hair was darker than you had expected, black with white peppered throughout. It was fast approaching his shoulders, a few wisps resting across his face. His beard was much the same in terms of coloring, the short coarse hair following along his jawline and trailing around his lips.

What captivated you, though, were the scars and his eyes. The scars, you suppose, could’ve been expected. He had championed a rebellion against Dragons, and you were all too familiar with them at this point to think the scars, that dragged across his face from under his right eye and disappearing into the left half of his beard, had been made by anything other than the claws of dragons. His eyes were overwhelmingly stunning. A sliver of a black pupil surrounded by a bright yellow that faded into a burning orange, his eyes looked reptilian.

“I earned my kingdom, Dragonborn,” he growled.

You pushed yourself off of him, practically growling in pure frustration as you sheathed your dagger. You began to walk into the house, thinking of ways you could send him back to Oblivion, when you stopped. Your old friend Faendal had always told you your heart was too big, and as you thought about the man who had been alone for over a millennia, you could understand why. You almost felt a pity for him now, as mortal as any other man with everyone he had ever known dead.

You did not turn back to face him. You merely took in a few deep breaths, smelling the smoke from the hearth’s fire floating into the sky above and the lake all but a stone’s throw away. And it felt calming. That was why you picked this place.

“Go to the lake and take a bath, you stink of horse and sea. I will have my steward bring you a set of clothes, leave the robes. I want no other connection to the atrocities you’ve committed in my house. We stay here for a week, then I have other holdings I must tend to,” you told him before walking into the home.

Your week went by rather quickly. Thankfully, both Falkreath and Whiterun were close enough to Lakeview that you could check on them during the week. The Jarls and their stewards had no news for their holds, each citing the end of the war as better news for their jails. None of your contacts in either offered a different story. At least for now, all seemed right in your favorite corner of the world.

Until you returned to the manor and found Miraak struggling to wrestle your cow into a single place so that he could milk it. You didn’t even really understand what you were seeing as you watched this insane man. He was wearing standard tavern clothes, the only clothes for men you had in your possession, and just kept wrapping his arms around the cow in a multitude of places. You could only assume he was trying hold it one position, at least.

You looked to Rayya, who was leaning against a nearby tree with a smirk on her face. You walked over to your steward.

“What is going on??” you asked her.

“You told me you wanted him to earn his keep. The ignorant fool won’t accept the fact that he is failing,” she said, chuckling.

“So you think it better to allow him to stress out my cow?” you asked.

“I tried, my Thane. He would not listen to anyone but you,” she told you. She shook her head and walked away, no doubt to do her rounds of the property.

Sighing, you walked over to the pen that held your cow and chickens. The chickens may not have been smart, but they had at least managed to keep out of his grasp. Your poor cow, that you had named after Faendal after one too many Black-Briar Meads, was mooing indignantly as she kept trying to step out of his grasp. She was just a little too slow to accomplish it.

“What are you doing?” you asked him.

“This cow will learn it’s place. It will listen to me,” he told you, not even bothering to glance your way as he repositioned his grip once more.

“Oh my fuck are you truly that much of an idiot?” you asked him as you pulled him off the cow.

He stood straight and looked down at you. He truly was an imposing force. Without his padded robes, he was still broad shouldered. You were near certain he was a solid wall of muscle, taller than you by at least a head.

“Rayya cares for her every day, you are a stranger to her. She has no trust in you, she will not willingly give you what you have not yet earned,” you snapped at him.

His eyes, which still dazzled you, moved down to look directly at his feet. You could see Miraak’s jaw clench and release a few times over.

“I…I apologize, Dragonborn. I merely thought I should earn my keep here,” he said quietly. “I know that you more than anyone is paying a price near too high for Mora’s trickery.”

His apology was sincere. So sincere, in fact, you were rendered speechless. The last few weeks had been so intense, between the Mora’s decision, the journey back to Skyrim from Solstheim, and the duties and detours you had as was your duty to Skyrim. You had never once suspected he may, after so long, feel some inkling of regret for his actions.

“Just…my stewards, anyone I employ, really, they know what they are doing. You can trust that their instruction will be true and fair,” you muttered. You began to side step him when his arm grabbed you.

You had been travelling light since your return, trading your normal armor for a green dress that you saw that tavern woman wore. It felt freeing, to some degree, to be able to go at least just a few days without armor stiffening your movements. So, his hand touched your bare skin. Goose pimples popped up over your entire body as his heat spread over you and your blood rushed to your cheeks.

“How was your trip?” he asked you. Surprised, you turned to face him. His handsome face once again took your breath away.

“Uneventful. Thank the Divine,” you said. His eyes traveled to your chest, where an amulet to your favorite Divine rested.

“I didn’t take you for one of piety,” he commented.

“I never was but being a god sent piece to move about the board, you gain an appreciation,” you muttered.

“I shall get our things ready to ride for Solitude tomorrow,” he said. He let you go and walked into the house.

It was supposed to be a simple ride. You had made it so many times and so many ways. You had even chosen to stick to the roads this time to avoid any such event.

But pesky vampires didn’t care much for plans. They were getting more courageous, some even coming out in the broad daylight. Which is exactly what these did.

There were at least ten of them. It was one of the larger groups you had come across. And when one laid slain at your feet, another came. They were overwhelming you.

Until he saved you.

In moments that were almost too quick to comprehend, he had cut down any vampire that had touched you. There was a fire burning in his eyes as he moved his sword about. You stood there, stunned, as the blood of vampires drenched him when the last of them were dead.

He looked at you, that fire seeming to consume him. Miraak closed the distance between you, pulling your dented helm from your head to toss it aside, and took your face in his firm hands.

“Are you hurt?” he asked you. His eyes searched your face. Your armor had thankfully kept any of their attacks from reaching your flesh.

“Yes,” you whispered.

He looked like he was at a loss for words entirely. His gaze softened as he looked you over once more. And if you were crazy, which despite all the blows to the head you most definitely were not, you would have sworn he looked a little teary eyed.

“Let’s set up camp for the evening. It would be night soon, and you should rest,” he said quietly as he released you from his hold. You watched as he walked away into the nearby forest.

You looked as the sun was beginning to set over the mountains. Thankfully there was enough light left to arrange your camp. You got to work silently on building a simple lean-to with enough room to fit both of you. You had hidden it a bit past the tree line, giving you perfect view of the road without being seen from it.

Miraak returned to your side not long after you were finished making a fire with a deer he had shot down and dressed. And so you watched as he butchered it down into smaller slabs of meat. Once it was on the fire cooking, the stars already shone bright in the sky.

“You can’t milk a cow but you can field dress a deer?” you asked him. You were both sitting by the fire, and you glanced up at him.

The firelight danced across his features. It seemed to make the scars even deeper. His eyes practically glowed at any time, but seemed ethereal now.

“It is not much different than slaughtering a Dragon. More pliable, but that typically works to my favor,” he answered with a shrug.

“I have to ask. You were…I mean you were a dragon priest. The world laid at your feet, you only had to answer to the dragons. Why ruin all that, why turn on them and seal your fate in Apocrypha?” you asked him.

Until you had spoken the words, you didn’t realize how much you desired an answer. The stories from the Merethic Era were scattered at best. Most of them had been deemed so impossible that they were nothing but a legend. Even Miraak’s story had been lost, and his was truth.

“The Dragons were cruel. Simple as that,” he told you with another shrug.

“No. That was known by everyone once they arrived in Tamriel. That’s not a good enough answer. So the truth. Now,” you said firmly.

He sighed and leaned forward a bit. He adjusted the meat’s position over the fire before looking to you.

“There were barely better to us than they were the men they ruled over. We were given control, sure, but at what cost? They fed us their barely edible scraps, instructed us to build temples until our hands bled. They didn’t even allow human companions for us, only them. It is not a great wonder many were able to scatter and bury the dragons, we were used to being alone,” he told you. You leaned back a bit, resting yourself against the shelter.

“There was a woman,” he said quietly.

“Isn’t there always?” you muttered. If he heard you, he didn’t acknowledge your words.

“This woman was…she was beautiful. One of your Divines personified, if I ever cared to wager. There was no other explanation for how one as stunning as the stars could exist on Nirn,” he said. His voice was soft, heavy.

“You fell in love,” you whispered.

You had never imagined a man such as him in love. In the few stories you had managed to hear, he was not exactly the warm and fuzzy type. More akin to the dragons he once served than a rabbit. And his ferocity in the fight against the vampires earlier felt like proof of that.

But then you thought of the way he looked at you. The way he touched you, or held you. How ever since he joined your company, you hadn’t so much as even gotten a scratch. How he seemed to always be aware of the next step, ensuring that no harm came to you.

Your heart began fluttering against your chest like a thousand butterflies has been entrapped inside you. You had been so preoccupied with hating him and hating how he had been thrust upon you, you had never thought of him as anything but a monster.

“I did. But like I said, our lives were dedicated to the Dragons. We were allowed nothing more. The rest of the world…the dragons made their lives torturous, yes. I will not deny that, and I will not deny the part I played. But, at least they got to share their life with someone.”

You nodded silently.

“When Alduin found out I dared break one of their many rules, he made me watch as they tore her limb from limb. My dear Thildys, whose only crime was being the object of all my desires. And if that were not cruel enough, The World Eater marked me for eternity with his claws still dripping with her blood,” he said.

Your heart ached for him. You remembered how you felt when you found Kodlak had been killed. The betrayal from the universe felt as real as any wound you had suffered. You weren’t even in love with Kodlak and you killed the Silver Hands to avenge him and the entire Glenmoril Coven just to give him way to escape the clutches of Hircine’s Hunt.

You thought of what you would do for a person you had loved. Especially if the beings you considered gods made you watch while they tore your love apart. And you felt a burning desire within you to destroy anyone who had so much as whispered your name. You couldn’t begin to fathom what it would feel like for real.

“You rebelled in revenge,” you said.

“I did. I thought…I thought if I overpowered them I would have the power to turn back fate. They feared me, for a while, as I amassed followers and slew Dragons. And then I began to lose, the rest of the Dragon Priests circled Alduin and fought against me, turned my allies against me. Then Mora promised me that if I served him, he would give Thildys back to me. That is all I have wanted all this time,” Miraak finished his tale.

You were waiting for some lament about how Mora tricked him. That seemed to be the status quo wherever Hermaeus Mora made himself known. He would promise powerful people the world, and all they got was an earful of lies.

But yet nothing of the sort fell from his lips. He merely pulled the meat off the fire and portioned both of you out some. You noticed he handed you a larger slab. Before you could protest, he spoke.

“You have her eyes, Dragonborn.”

[the-skull-breaker]

Sethos : Cyno ! if you want your precious card back you'll have to duel with me ! and if you lose I'll get your soul !

Cyno : I accept your challenge. it's time to duel !

Tighnari : hold on, wait ! Cyno, did he say he'll get his soul ???

Sethos : yeah, that's right.

Tighnari : b-but don't-... don't do that Cyno... w-why would you do that... ?

Cyno : Cyrus gave me that card, 'Nari, it's precious to me...

Cyrus : I just bought you a booster pack at the market one time, that... hat card isn't special or anything...

Tighnari : Cyno, you can buy a single of that card for like 5 moras on Amazon !

Cyno : don't worry, I believe in the heart of the cards, I won't lose.

Sethos : and every time you lose life-points, fifty buzz-saws will come closer and closer, and the loser will be hacked INTO PIECES !

Cyrus : what the fuck ???

Tighnari : Cyno, are you crazy ??? what is this Saw shit ???

Cyno : you're on.

Sethos : and as time passes, your platform will lowered into a pit of lava ! the clock is ticking, Cyno~ !

Cyno : I wouldn't have it any other way.

Tighnari : wait, Cyno... are you... getting off on the danger of the situation... ?

Cyno :

Tighnari :

Cyrus :

Cyno : ... maybe... ?

Tighnari : oh Cyno... !

Cyrus : are you serious ??!!!

Sethos : ow, ew...

Cyno : DON'T KINKSHAME ME !!!