#proudly-arrogant

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Hi Frank! Have you listened to The Magnus Archives? If you have, what do you think of it? The Magnus Archives is a horror fiction podast and I think you'd enjoy it. My favourite character is Jon, the main character, who is an archivist.

Never heard of it before this week, but I love the name and the tagline

"Every day a story about the end of the world. Every day we find out a little more about how to survive it."

[skinnypaleangryperson]

The combination of being used as an adult and being told that this is the rest of my life, and not being able to afford my dreams of a family and never being creatively successful even in a mediocre local way has spewed my brain out into mental disorders that I didn't even know existed and has unfortunately affected the way that I can healthily navigate social media. One of these days I'm going to get smart enough again and I'm not going to come on here and spew out every possible issue or insecurity and I'm going to obtain basic sense and a sense of individuality and confident core sentiment again, unfortunately, not anytime soon

[aidenwaites]

The thing about Alex prescott is that he's a deeply flawed character and I love him for all of his contradictions and hot-headed and outright mean traits but also he is the only character of mine that is 100% a little bit of a power fantasy

[alexiroflife]

"trance"

fluff, slight crack, modern!sukuna, whipped & clingy sukuna, itadori family!

ryomen sukuna x reader

Synopsis: sukuna, a man who rarely attempts to keep his thoughts to himself for the sake of others, makes his infatuation with you everyone else's problem when he's high

to sum it up: sukuna's fried, and naturally all he wants is you

WC: 3,258

Warning(s): mentions/use of marijuana, suggestive themes, horny ass sukuna who has no decorum in front of his family

You know Sukuna is no better than any other man who you have caught the attention of in the past. No matter the time of day or the occasion, the salmon-haired man is quick to intrude on your personal space, invading your unsuspecting body with the wander of his large hands over your frame until you find yourself returning to the default state of being at his will.

Sukuna proudly takes ownership of his infatuation with you too. Rather shamelessly, he's got an arm wound over your shoulders and locked around your neck or hands firmly splayed on your waist, bringing yours to his and keeping you there for as long as he deems necessary.

He would never say so out loud, but it is evident by his body language and the way he strays from being more than ten feet away from you that he is attached to you at the hip. Sukuna is an aggressively clingy man, for as long as you belong to him, he is taking advantage of your closeness, of your body, of your time, mind, heart, and soul.

Even so, when Sukuna is in the proper state of mind, he still remains somewhat calm with his actions and how he presses himself to you. He will appear almost angry with affection, but silent save for a few commands to relax your body or to stop stubbornly attempting to push away when you feel crowded, though you never have any luck in that regard anyway. He is more reserved, more contained with his confrontations as though touching you is the easiest, most soothing, and most familiar thing he has ever done. Sukuna has a tendency to skillfully mask his truest emotions with a viel of apathy and air of indifference, despite how his body speaks for the things he fails to verbalize.

And now, of course, while Sukuna is not at all in any realm close to withholding a proper state of mind, or state of sobriety more accurately, his body betrays him tenfold and acts on its own will while his mind is on the backburner, hazily numbing itself with the passionate buzz of the smoke that was dragging from his lips and past his nostrils.

Sukuna often fails to take into account the appropriate time and place to engage in or say certain things, for he feels that if there is something he wants to do or discuss, no company or environment could shift his will to do so. Arrogant with pride, Sukuna operates according to his desires, and all those who know him are quite familiar with his rather inconsiderate antics.

That is why the crimson eyed man is splayed out on his brother's sofa, legs spread dangerously far apart with his arms thrown over the back of the furniture. Blurry lidded eyes stare off in a heavy daze captured solely by you, who are maneuvering about his brother's kitchen alongside Choso, who is helping you locate the baking sheet for the cookies you have been yammering on about baking all day.

You can feel his eyes burning into your skull from a mile away, and you are wildly too accostumed to this routine of his for you to pay the notion any mind. You are far too focused on your own task at hand to meet the fiery, lust consumed gaze that your boyfriend has locked onto you.

His eyes, unfathomably red, trace the outline of your figure slowly as though drinking in the sight of you, savoring it so that he can taste it on his tongue long enough for it to linger until he can get his hands on the true, physical flavor of you.

There's a darkness in the way he checks you out from across the room seated next to Wasuke, who glares angrily ahead of him with a twisted scowl at whatever channel has been randomly flicked to in the stupor of Sukuna's high. It almost feels as though the room is charging with the volcaic tension that Sukuna's body emits from its place in the living room, for his obsession with you manifests into some sort of beast before everyone's eyes when he is under the influence of weed.

And despite being surrounded by family, Sukuna can do nothing but watch you with that hungry glint in those hues of blood red, paying no mind to how easily the room can read him.

Truthfully, Sukuna does not even feel that he should be blamed for the way he is eye fucking you now. You decided upon yourself that it was a good idea to visit the Itadori home with a thick cardigan slipping down the skin of your shoulder to reveal the tank top that hugs your midsection and tits tightly, which you only vurther expose when you decide to strip the outer fabric off with complaints of being warm. Your graceful arms stretch to grab the kitchenware out of Choso's hands to set aside on the counter, your bare neck craning gently with the tilt of your head and a concentrated pinch of your brow as you mix raw ingridients into a bowl with your hands, kneading the thick pasty mixture through your soft fingers. You have to be doing this on purpose, Sukuna decides, for you are far too captivating for him to turn away

Sukuna's lashes flutter with a slow blink and the stroke of his fingers over his mouth and chin. You look practically edible standing there, the overhead light of the kitchen illuminating your frame and epmhasizing your otherwordly, enticing beauty. Of all the many ways he has come to learn he can devour your body, each scenario flitters through his fuzzy brain the longer he stares at you, his pupils expanding with possessive want.

You flicker your eyes upward momentarily when you feel a particular shift in the atmosphere, and when you do, you meet your boyfriend's piercing eyes from afar. Your brows quirk and your lips tug to the side with nervous judgment when you catch that dangerous glimmer that can only mean you will not make it out alive when the two of you end up alone.

With slightly widened eyes, you slowly turn your eyes back to the cookie dough and a curious Choso standing beside you with oil spray for the pan.

"You okay?" the twenty-one year old questions slowly and you shake your head.

"Your uncle looks like he's gonna kill me," you exhale anxiously in response. Choso looks up to find what you are referring to, and his face sours when he catches wind of Sukuna's expression.

"Freak," he mutters under his broth with the clench of his jaw, passing the spray over to you amid his sickened glower.

As if beckoning him subconsciously, the brunette watches in something akin to horror when Sukuna lifts his arms from behind him and pushes himself up gradually to his feet. He appears to move in slow motion, hands tucked into his pockets and eyes still glued permanently to you as he saunters his way into the kitchen with heavy strides.

You keep your gaze down, pretending to be entirely too occupied as the salmon haired man slips into the space directly behind you, the strong scent of weed sinking into his cologne wrapping over you. Sneakily, warm palms snake over your hips. They still there a moment, gripping experimentally before trailing around and over your stomach, opting to cling to you this way as he steps his chest to your back and curves his nose toward you cheek.

He takes in a deep breath, inhaling you graciously as his hands wander over your stomach. You feel the tip of his nose and the whisper of his lips graze your skin as he lenas himself down toward the crook of your jaw and neck. His actions are sluggish, a representation of his current state of mind, and he pulls you into his embrace as though he had been seeking so for years on end.

"Can I help you, Kuna?" you murmur, gripping a ball of dough into your palms and rolling it.

He does not say a word. Only a low grunt escapes his lips and vibrates against you, his eyes falling closed. He seems to crowd into you closer, though you are unsure of how that is possible when he already has you tucked into him so securely.

"Just stand still," his voice rumbles into you, lips pressing to your ear in a soft kiss in between his slow words. "Let me feel on you."

You grunt softly when his lips touch your cheek, veiny hands smoothing over your abdomen in gradual circles, one hand sliding back to sooth down the top of your thigh and back up again. "Sukuna," you hiss as heat pinches your body. "Stop, I'm trying to bake," you lean over to shrug away, but he's following you, chasing your lips to the side and crushing his weight down into you, pecking over your jaw.

"No one told you to stop," he murmurs. "Keep going."

You bite down on your tongue, attempting to hide how flustered you have become by Sukuna's behavior, especially in such an open space. You expect nothing less from him, and neither does his family, but hell, he never knows when to quit and it absolutely kills you.

"Leave her alone," Choso rolls his eyes, shuffling away from Sukuna's bulky figure pushing past him to get to you. "She just said she was doing something."

"Yeah, and get a god damn room!" Grandpa demands bitterling from the couch with the raise of an agitated fist.

"You're scarring your family, Sukuna," you say flatly in between the uproar of hatred toward the salmon haired man, to which he lifts his head from you briefly with a mischievous smirk snaking onto his face.

"They'll live," he grins.

"At this rate, you'll be the very thing to keep that from happening and push me closer to death," Grandpa fumes.

"One could only hope, old man."

"Eat shit."

An amused chuckle rumbles through Sukuna's chest and against your back, practically rattling your ribcage. "Can't you all be nice to each other," you sigh as Sukuna turns his focus back down to you. His arms tighten around you, his caress of your stomach over your tank top ceasing to fasten his arms around your waist and drop his forehead to your shoulder. He sways you slightly back and forth, droopy eyes glazing over at the feel of your plush body against his.

"We can't be nice if we constantly get on each other's nerves, (Y/n)," Choso says tiredly. "Or more specifically, if Sukuna pisses us off."

"But that's damn near every day," you raise your brows with a twitch of an amused smile as you proceed onto rolling the next few balls of cookie dough.

"Exactly."

You shake your head, lifting your arms slightly as Sukuna's burly arms wrap up under yours. "Your family hates you, baby," you comment slyly.

Sukuna clicks his tongue, grumbling as he shifts with you. "I don't give a fuck," he murmurs. "What perfume are you wearing?"

"I'm not wearing any perfurme," you scrunch your brows in confusion at his abrupt shift. "Why?"

"Mm," he hums. "You smell good."

"Okay," you tilt your head away when his lips peck over your neck, his teeth eventually sinking down to nip at you. You flinch. "Get off, weirdo!" a giggle slips into your demand, your face scrunching when a hand comes to cup the side of your face to refrain you from moving away from the invasion of his kisses.

"For fuck's sake," Wasuke hisses under his breath.

"Let's go," Sukuna suddenly mumbles into you.

You turn your head to peek at him over your shoulder quizzically. "What?"

"Let's go, woman," he repeats, speaking directly into your ear. "Want to taste you. Now."

"Woah," your eyes go wide as Sukuna moves to feel you up again, thick fingers brushing the hem of your tanktop and grazing over the sliver of skin beneath. "You can't just say things like that," you scold, eyes darting over the room in panic though your own body is beginning to betray you. "Behave."

"Like hell you actually want me to," you can feel him smirk as the sly words leave his mouth, and you shiver, putting aside the last ball of dough you needed to roll. "Come on, peach," he urges rather gently, tilting his head over your shoulder to find the connection of your gaze with his red eyes. You look back up at him, eyes glassy enough for Sukuna to determine that he is getting to you. "Don't be rude."

"Sukuna, you're distracting me," you groan.

"Relax," he urges, "Enough complaining and relax."

His instructions fall on your ear as though he is attempting to coax you into submission, which he has a keen tendency of doing even when he is fully coherent. "At least have the decency to wait until we go home to act like this."

"I shouldn't have to wait for something I already have."

"Around your family, you should!"

"Quit worrying about them and focus on me."

"You make it impossible not to when you hover me like this."

"Good," he kisses the back of your ear. "Now let's go."

"Later," you smile with the emphasis. "I haven't even washed my hands yet."

Sukuna stretches his arms forward from under you, cupping over your wrists from either side and guiding your hands to the left whre the sink resides as Choso busies himself with tidying up a bit. You watch your boyfriend reach to flip the faucet on, then guide your dough coated hands under the water gingerly.

You inhale sharply, ducking your head to conceal your smile as his thumbs smooth your palms clean with the addition of some soap. You can feel his chest pressing into your shoulderblades and the weighted exhales the spread through his body. His head hovers over your own, eyes turning back to admire you as he mindlessly continues to wash your hands.

"God, is that (Y/n) over there? I hope that idiot isn't clobbering the poor girl," Jin's voice speaks up from behind you all at the front door, which had swung open moments before. You all watch him and Itadori shuffle into the space, the teenager clad in his baseball practice uniform.

"He's washing her hands," Choso deadpans, turning to greet Yuji as he walks into the space. The said boy furrows his brow and looks over at the huddled pair of the two of you.

"Really? Why? That's... oddly nice of him," he tilts his head.

"No the hell it's not," Gramps chimes in from the couch, having tuned into the family conversation with the return of his son and grandson.

Sukuna ignores the comments getting thrown around about him, his mind's only sole focus being you and the way your hands trickle over with water within his own.

"All of you shut up. I'm speeding things up," Sukuna slurs, and all heads turn to him.

"Are you high?" Jin raises an unimpressed brow at his twin.

"Stay out of my business."

The living room and kitchen combined erupt into lively chatter as voices overlap one another and some argument about some sports team ensues after an argument about Sukuna's habits. The cookies long having been tucked into the oven flood the space with an intoxicating scent, and as you move around to make sure the space is tidy when you are done, Sukuna does not let go of you once. He's stuck to you, rolling his hands over your hips and kissing across your shoulder, performing rather uncharacteristically gentle as he handles you as though cherishing you in his senses' heightened yet blurred state.

The red eyed man is especially hot on your tail when you step away to the bathroom. The second you make it into the space to prepare to examine yourself in the mirror, the door is clicking shut behind you and Sukuna is making his way over with a gleam of entranced greed.

You go to press your palm forward to catch his chest before he can completely approach you, but your strength proves inefficient against Sukuna's as he pushes back against your hands, lips curved in a lazy smile.

"You need to calm down," you nod with a nervous smile, squeaking when he flies his hands downward to tightly clasp your waist and pull you into him swiftly. "Seriously! Stop looking at me like that. You're gonna get us in more trouble."

"Be quiet, gorgeous," he purrs when your body collides to his with a thud. He hums, sliding his fingers past your hair to settle on the back of your neck, his thumb clasping over the front in a soft squeezing motion. Your smile dwindles slightly as he drags your head forward, his lips parted with a toothy, satisfied beam as you melt down before him. "Give me a kiss."

"No," you breathe out as though you had been holding in air.

"Why? What's the matter with you, girl?" his sultry voice questions rather teasingly.

"It's never just a kiss with you," you whimper. "And I'm not doing anything at your family's house with all of them standing twenty feet away."

"Didn't I tell you to stop talking about them? Hm?"

You chew down on the inside of your lip, eyes flickering to Sukuna's lips. "You never listen."

"I'm listening," he murmurs, brushing his mouth against yours. "To that little heartbeat of yours racing whenever I touch you."

"Kuna," you whisper, his hand giving your neck another soft squeeze. His heavy stare envelopes you in its fuzziness, his surroundings an air of buzzing nonsense yet you are the clearest thing that appears before him, your scent, your body, your face.

"Kiss me, peach," he orders lowly again and you shiver.

"Just one kiss-"

"Mhm."

Sukuna captures your lips in his before you can even finish your sentence, his aroma wafting into you so intoxicatingly that you believe that you yourself could get high off of your boyfriend's presence.

He melts into you, smoothing his mouth over yours passionately, firmly, softly. You cling to his back, leaning backward as Sukuna pushes further into you, his hand catching the back of your head so you don't lose balance with his weight. He's lethargic and heavy, slow with the prying of your lips apart and the slip of his tongue against yours, with the tilt of your head and the generous exploration of his hands over your frame. You almost do not think he can breathe, that he is fighting off air to keep his lips connected with yours.

You release a soft moan when his sharp teeth sink into your bottom lip to drag it out, eyes peeled open slightly to watch the blissful expression of your face.

"Sukuna," you mutter his name once more, only this time, you are unsure if it is a plea or another warning.

The salmon haired man bends down to tuck an arm under your butt, wandering you over to the bathroom counter and seating you atop the granite.

He cages you beneath him with his hands planted on other side of you. "That's right," he smirks. "Keep saying my name like that"

He presses back into you, and you wonder to yourself as you succomb to his will why anyone in this house allows Sukuna to smoke around you, knowing the recurrent outcome.

[inkinflux]

Before the Moment's Gone

Viktor x f!Reader | 2.2k | SFW

After winning the Distinguished Innovators Competition together, Viktor is encouraged to finally act on his feelings for you. A/N: I'm back and I may be rusty but it feels soooo good to write again. I wanted to get something fluffy out before digging into the angst that is inspired by the events of season 2, so have this sweet lil fic as an apology in advance <3 🚫 I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING USED TO TRAIN AI 🚫  

He’d been waiting for a slow song to start. Over the music and chatter he could barely shuffle his scattered thoughts together, and between the dancing bodies and the awkward lack of space to interject his cane, he’d been stranded in an ocean of energy.

A steady undercurrent of a beating drum aided his heart in synchronizing its erratic beating, and with a deep breath, he found the courage to make his way through the crowd. He found Jayce first, the second-place ribbon pinned proudly to his chest.

“Heya V,” a heavy arm settled around his friend’s shoulder, the smell of bourbon as heavy on his tongue, “Congrats again on the big win. Very distinguished of you.”

Viktor smirked, shoving him away, but he couldn’t disguise his delight. It was an improbable task made impossible by the fact that you wore a first-place pin over your heart to mirror his.

“Only half distinguished, you must remember,” he replied, “And a lesser half at that.”

Jayce scanned the crowd. “Where is your better half?” Viktor felt his cheeks heat.

“Jayce,” he hissed, voice low, “Why do you say these things so openly?”

“I’m only calling it like I see it. Oh,” He straightened, sending a wave down the crowded courtyard, “there she is.”

Viktor leaned against his cane as he lifted his chin, trying to catch a glimpse through the shifting bodies.

And there you were, cup to your lips, smiling against the lipstick-stained rim as you engaged in an amusing conversation.

As if sensing his eyes on you, you looked across, catching Viktor’s gaze. Your smile widened, and suddenly you were making your way over without so much as a goodbye to the group that had been entertaining you.

Jayce squeezed Viktor’s shoulder. “Is tonight the night?”

“What do you mean?” Viktor shrugged, an exaggerated pout trying to put off the point.

“You’ve got to tell her how you feel. What better moment than now?”

Viktor felt like he was going to be sick, his heart lurching at the thought.

“I’m sure there will be many better moments, Jayce.”

“How can you be so sure?” He retorted, giving his shoulders an encouraging shake. “It’s not every day you win the Distinguished Innovators Competition, let alone with the woman of your dreams.”

Viktor frowned at Jayce, compelling him to be silent as you approached.

Blue lights slid over your face and chest, highlighting the blue ribbon he’d helped you pin not an hour before. His hands had been shaking, but you had mistaken it for pure excitement at your victory, sharing in the glory with a toothy grin that made his knees weak.

“I cannot.”

“You can,” Jayce urged, shoving a half-drunken cup of brown liquid at him.

Viktor watched it slosh around for a couple seconds before downing it, coughing into his wrist as the alcoholic burn clung to his throat.

“I was just wondering if you had left,” You said by way of greeting, “I’m glad you stuck around. I’d regret not having the opportunity to celebrate our win together.”

Your air of confidence had always tickled him. Even when you had first met, and the chances of mistaking it for arrogance had been high, you somehow always came across as endearing, no matter how much you boasted your own achievements.

And now you shared one. A warming thought, or maybe that was just the alcohol settling in Viktor’s stomach.

“It suits you,” you complimented his No.1 ribbon, playing with its silk edges, your fingers a butterfly touch against his chest.

Viktor cleared his throat. “Thank you for helping me acquire it.”

You glanced up at him, eyes widening as you realized how close you had drifted, promptly taking a step back to return space he hadn’t needed nor cared for. As far as he was concerned, you could take anything from him without so much as a complaint.

The ground vibrated slightly as a blimp passed overhead, cruising at last light, the sun barely casting a sliver of red against the edge of the horizon. The stars had started blinking above, and a slight chill kept the dance floor palatable.

“Looks like you need a refill.”

You slipped your empty cup up, nestling it under his as a way to take it from his hands. You didn’t look back as you set off once more, though he knew you expected him to follow. Jayce gave a thumbs up as he passed.

Pausing at the desks that had been assembled in a line to create an impromptu outdoor bar, you dislodged the two cups. You filled them both with something bright and fizzy, the carbonated bubbles tickling Viktor’s nose as you held it up to his face.

“Rate my concoction.”

He took the cup from you, fingers sliding against yours in a secret dance as he did so. It was the one you’d marked with lipstick, his cheeks warm as he placed his lips over the same spot you’d drunk from.

Viktor took a sip, humming as he gazed into the orange liquid.

“Fruity. Not too sweet. Four out of five.”

You raised a finger to your chin, pondering. “Any notes on how to improve to get that five?”

“Eh, it is nothing against your choice of combination. There are simply better things that exist in their purest form.”

You rolled your eyes, linking your arm in his as you headed in a new direction. “Remind me why you’re a scientist and not a philosopher.”

“The two fields are not so dissimilar. They both seek to answer questions posed by the unknown.”

You peered up at him, in a fashion that thinly veiled your thoughts. With courage, he turned his head to meet your gaze.

Meeting your eyes was like a plug meeting its socket, charged electricity pulled taut. A mechanism that had become locked, kinetic energy blocked and compounding, impatient for its release.

“And what question are you seeking to answer tonight?”

Your tone caught him off guard. Viktor took a sip of the drink, using the excuse to have an extra moment to think. He was nervous to meet your gaze again, as if your eyes would unravel him in their search for a response and stumble upon something he wasn’t yet prepared to share.

With a tense chuckle, Viktor said “My questions have already been answered. Blitzcrank is a fine creation.”

Disappointment touched your eyes for only a split second before warmth flooded them.

“He is, isn’t he?”

The robot still lingered on the stage he was presented on, poking at the other winning inventions. Currently, he was pressing all the buttons on the hextech prototype Jayce had won second place with. You grimaced as one of the buttons bounced off of its spring, popped loose by Blitzcrank’s lack of grace. To the robot’s credit, he immediately went searching for the button that had rolled away in an attempt to remedy the situation.

You settled against the stone railing that bordered the Academy’s gardens, Piltover apartment lights blinking below as the young night settled in comfortably. Viktor liked being away from the crowd, able to look at it all from a detached perspective, a big picture overview on the merriment of the night.

He turned back to you again. “You did not want to dance?”

You shook your head. “I’m not much of a dancer.” You nudged your cup against his. “Not much of a party goer, either.”

“Neither am I,” Viktor agreed, tapping his cane against the stone, “Yet some opportunities present themselves despite established levels of confidence.”

You stared into your cup with a small smile.

“Are you glad we entered the competition,” you waited a beat to add, “together?”

The gravity in that pause was not lost on Viktor.

“Of course.”

You took another sip, then placed your empty cup on the flat stone before stretching your hands against it, leaning over to take in the view. Viktor followed suit, his shoulder brushing against yours as he spun.

You turned your face away, trying to hide the subsequent smile.

“I wouldn’t have wanted to do it with anyone else,” he said.

You playfully shoved your shoulder against his, deliberate touch this time.

“Not even Jayce?”

Viktor shrugged, leaning his cane against the stone. He dropped his cup in yours, letting them slot into place once more.

“Jayce is my professional partner. We’ve worked together for a while now. The patterns of our progress have become… predictable.” Viktor’s warm smile was like an embrace. “Creating with you is self indulgent.” And not only because your shared inventions weren’t necessarily necessary.

Where he and Jayce sought to use hextech to improve the lives of many, the things he created with you served to create an opportunity to spend more time with you. Allowing his feelings to manifest in surges and steel when simple words failed him.

“I am proud, of what we have accomplished.”

His words caressed you.

“Thank you,” you said, turning to him, “for indulging me.”

Viktor tipped his head forward, averting his gaze as he attempted to hide the flush he could feel spread in his cheeks.

“You are easy to indulge.”

The cool stone welcomed you as you pressed your elbow against it, your cheek propped against your palm. Viktor poked the strip of hip that was exposed by the movement.

“I’m certain everyone else finds it as easy as I do.”

You caught his prodding hand and placed it flat against your hip, urging him to commit to the touch.

“I don’t care about everyone else. There’s only one name I share space with on a patent.”

You wore a look of endearment that made emotion swell in his chest. His eyes began to sting as he blinked back a wave of fondness. He denied himself the urge to turn away, confronting the curve in your brow and the blown black of your pupils.

A group passed by your moment of solitude, and Viktor slid closer, his brow knitted in worry that you’d be taken from him. His thumb slid against the curve of your hip bone, his thigh now flush against yours.

He sent a dismissive glance over his shoulder at the onlookers who continued on their way before turning back to you.

The interruption had disturbed your pocket of peace. Viktor pulled away, grabbing for his cane.

“We should get some rest tonight,” he suggested.

You’d both been awake until the early hours of the morning as you put the finishing touches on Blitzcrank. In a hazy state you’d both carved your initials into the bronze metal of the robot’s enormous hand, then fallen asleep together on the lab floor until Blitz had shaken you awake, worried he would miss his grand debut.

“You’re not going to stick around?” You asked, arms pulled around yourself, unsure.

Viktor lifted his hand to press an affectionate touch against your cheek, and you seemed to unravel, your tensed features going soft and your crossed arms dropping, hands settling on his elbows.

Your flesh was pliable beneath his fingertips, and he craved it in a way a desert-dweller craved a swim. His hands were so used to rough sheets of metal, the familiar burn and sting of creation.

Fondness poured out of him like a tap with a broken faucet. It’s all he knew when he looked at you. A look of love he wasn’t sure he knew how to hide. It took you looking at him in the same way, a perfect mirror, to make him understand.

“Indulge me this time, will you?” He requested.

You sucked in a breath as Viktor stooped to press a feather-light kiss to the side of your mouth.

He pulled back, eyes wide, then nodded to himself, glad he had acted. You merely blinked up at him, stunned by his sudden physical admission.

“You call that indulgence?” You asked, somewhat breathless.

“Well…” he planted his hands on the stone behind you, his cane slipping from his grasp and clattering to the floor as he boxed you in. You grasped the sides of his face as he closed in, his open mouth hot as he laid it upon yours.

He kissed with a confidence you hadn’t expected; a confidence you evoked. Rough hands found their way to your hips, and you didn’t at all mind that he had to lean his body against yours in the absence of ample support.

His kiss was greedy, his tongue darting around yours, causing your stomach to flip.

When you finally parted, you were both breathing heavily.

“It seems,” he smiled, kiss-drunk, “my greatest question has been answered.”

You melted into his embrace, your arms wrapping around his neck as he squeezed you tight, the raised fabric of your ribbons pressed flush against each other.

You nestled your face against his neck, stifling a yawn there.

“My distinguished girl,” Viktor whispered against your ear, his voice full of affection as he stroked your back, “are you tired?”

“Not too tired to keep kissing,” you urged, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Viktor pulled back enough to check your face, taking in your heavy eyelids and sleepy smile.

“Let us retire for the evening.”

“But-“

“But,” he cut you off with a peck, “this moment must give way to more. More moments we can share, together.”

You nodded, your body pleasantly encumbered by the promise that a warm bed and more of Viktor’s kisses awaited.

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

XVII. The Birth (Warning!Childbirth)

Suspicio semel excitatur, omnia pascit.

Once suspicion is aroused, everything feeds it.

They were laughing, muttering, glancing, and smiling in a way that could be seen as arrogant, sinister, cruel, or otherwise unkind. However, you find yourself unable to respond to their actions due to an overwhelming sensation of pain in your chest. Since you fell in love with Marcus, you'd felt the same pain in that spot many times for different reasons. When he fought in the Colosseum, when he was wounded, when you were separated, when he spoke of his past, when he went off to war, even every time he left home. But none of it was like the pain you felt now. It was a strange, intense, rage-inducing, all-consuming, aggressive, dangerous feeling.

The gentle touch of your aunt on your shoulder, Decima's concerned expression, the hesitant looks of the other women who respected you – these intense feelings absorbed all of that. As you felt the anger and suspicion spreading throughout your body, you couldn't stop the tears from flowing because of the situation you were in, and you hated it.

"I won't allow you to upset my niece, our princess, in my house! Don't you have any decency?"

Everyone except Julia averted their gaze. "You seem to have forgotten that you're talking to an empress. It was the princess herself who asked the question, Antonia."

Antonia's gaze was sharp. It was clear that there was an unresolved conflict between her and Julia, and you were certain it had something to do with your deceased mother. "It was you who made the insinuation, Empress Domna and everyone here knows it. To gain respect, you must first give it.”

“You're going too far.”

"Hah! Look who's talking! Weren't you the one who first accused your own husband, the emperor, and then a Roman general, of being unfaithful? That seems a bit impudent, doesn't it?"

You took a deep breath and stood up with your aunt's help, this was not the time to cry, this was the time to put your foot down and Julia had already crossed the line and exhausted your patience with her.

"Lady Domna, you should be focusing on your son's future, not my private matters and my husband's. It's a shame you've made a habit of it, but maybe you're influenced by this unfaithful woman at your side," you said, looking at her. You knew who she was. She'd told you sarcastically about Marcus' former wife months ago, but you never confronted her because you didn't care. But now it was time. Looking at her, you continued, everyone, including the slaves, had stopped murmuring and were focused on you two.

"Don't think I'm not aware of what's going on. I may seem patient, but I'm not stupid."

The woman was about to say something in protest, but Julia raised her hand to stop her. You weren't planning to deal with her anyway, you didn't even look at her face even once. Julia raised an eyebrow. "You're speaking to an empress, so watch your tone."

"I was here before you. I was born a princess! I earned my status by birthright, without having to marry an emperor like you."

You could feel your aunt smiling proudly beside you. The women began to murmur quietly. Julia was caught off guard by your harsh words, and the woman next to her shot you a look, but you didn't falter. Her silence emboldened you. You approached her and leaned into her ear. "I know my husband will be furious when I tell him about your slanderous words. You'd clearly forgotten what happened the last time you pissed him off."

"You're almost proud to say that," she said, narrowing her eyes, but you could tell she was tensing up.

"You're the last person to lecture me on pride. How quickly you forgot that thing you asked me for when you came to my villa. That's exactly what a woman without pride would do."

“Are you insulting me now?”

“No, I'm just describing you.” You said sarcastically.

Her eyes flashed with anger. “You little!”

"That's enough!" Your aunt intervened. "Please leave my house, you are no longer welcome here." She said to Julia and her companions. Then she looked at everyone. "Thank you for coming, ladies, but the banquet is over now."

Julia looked at you with a bit of a glare and turned away, and the other women with her followed her, without saying goodbye or showing any respect. You took a deep breath and put your hands on your belly. You could feel the baby moving inside you.

"Are you well, my lady?" Decima asked as she stepped towards you.

"They say if you cut the grass, snakes will appear." Your aunt mumbled. "You did well putting her in her place, Aurelia."

You gave her a half-smile in return. The other women greeted you one by one before leaving the courtyard.

"I think it's an ugly rumor. Everyone in Rome knows your husband Acacius would never do such a thing. If you don't feel well, it'll affect the baby, so it's probably best not to worry about it."

You trusted Marcus, of course, but suspicion had already crept into your mind.

"Thank you, Aunt Antonia. I'd like to take my leave now."

"Of course, my dear. You should go home and get some rest." She gave you a quick kiss on the cheek. "I hope I'm not mistaken, but I believe you said the baby is due next week?"

You nodded.

"I hope everything will be fine."

"Aurelia, I'm really sorry about all this. Thank you for coming," Paulina said, giving you a hug. "Please don't concern yourself with what those women say. You need to think about your child.’

"So do you," you said, looking at her belly. "I'll be fine," you promised with a smile. Then took Decima's arm. "Have a good night."

"Good night, cousin," Paulina called out to you.

Your aunt accompanied you to the carriage, and the midwife came along too. "Aurelia, the things they said..." Antonia said in a low tone. "Even if it's true, just remember that you're still his wife, and that won't change. I'm sure it won't affect a love like yours. So you need to make sure it won't damage your marriage. That's what Julia wants, after all. Once she finds out you've had a son, she'll be even more hostile towards you. But as your aunt, I will always be there for you. I'll make sure she doesn't hurt you or your child. I won't let that snake bite me twice." She kissed your cheek and stroked your belly with her hand. "Now go home and rest. Try to keep your mind calm until the birth."

You smiled at her. "Thank you. I appreciate it.”

By the time the carriage arrived at the villa, it was already getting dark. You were lost in thought the whole way through, mulling over the past week. Over the past few days, Marcus left the villa in a bit of a rush in the afternoon and came back late. He never wore his armour during that time. Was there any chance he was really going there? Could the mere thought of a possibility hurt someone so much? But it did.

With Decima and the midwife's help, you carefully got out of the carriage. "Please don't mention what's happened back there to anyone, especially not the General. Is that clear?" You looked at the midwife in particular who replied with a nod.

When you stepped into the courtyard, Tullia greeted you.

"Thank Gods you're back safe and sound, my lady."

"Is my husband here?" you asked, looking up at your chambers.

"No, my lady. General Acacius has not yet returned." She and Decima exchanged glances. She was worried and surprised by your behavior.

"I will rest in my room," you said, heading for the stairs.

Decima came to you and took your arm. After all, it wasn't as easy for you to climb the stairs as before. As you approached the door, you looked at her. "I'd like to be alone, please."

She gave a little smile and nod, but her eyes showed her worry. You closed the door and took a moment to survey the room. It was as if your mood had even changed the atmosphere of the room. You touched the tulle around the bed and, as you ran your fingers through the fabric, everything you heard echoed in your head. You removed your necklace, crown, hairpins, bracelets, and earrings, put them all in a wooden box, and placed them in the closet. Once you'd removed the palla and stola, you went over to the bed.

You noticed the burgundy tunic that Marcus had taken off before leaving was on the bed. You sat down and held the tunic in your hands, taking a deep breath to enjoy his scent. Since he got back from the war, you only had physical intimacy once in balneum, and you missed him more than ever. It was tough, but you managed somehow. That is, until tonight. While you missed him on his own in the room, he is with someone else now...

'No, no, no, Aurelia. That's not possible.' You thought to yourself, 'I don't believe he'd do that.'

Your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. You were pretty sure they'd be back to give you a hard time later on. Decima looked over from the doorway with a tray in hand.

"I've made you some chamomile tea." She said with a smile. "Can I come in?"

You smiled back and put the tunic back on the bed. "Yes, please." You stood up and sat down on the bed with her help. She placed a pillow behind your back and handed you the cup with tea in it then sat beside you. "I hope you're not still dwelling on what they said,"

You shook your head, "I am not," you lied.

Decima squinted at you, she knew you well. "Come on now, Aurelia. This is the General we're talking about. His love for you is nothing like I've ever seen. Everyone else might be tempted to cheat, but he is not one of them."

You took a sip of your tea. "But I need to know where he goes in the evenings."

"Do you want me to ask Octavius?”

"No, not him. He can't keep secrets from Acacius." You took another sip. You and Decima then looked at each other and said the same name at the same time. "Cato."

You both laughed.

"I'll speak to him tomorrow," you said, handing her the tea. "I've had enough to drink for now. Thank you, my dear."

She took the cup and helped you lie down on the bed.

“Decima."

She looked at you before leaving the room.

"I'm so glad I have you in my life," you said. "Your friendship is really important to me."

"I value yours just as much, my lady. Get some rest now." She said and then closed the door.

It was already tough enough to get some sleep at night with a little warrior on the way. And on top of all that, you were plagued by unnecessary worries. You wanted to roll over, but even that was difficult now. After a while, you heard voices coming from the courtyard. You closed your eyes when you heard footsteps climbing the stairs. Why did I do this now? You thought to yourself. You couldn't manage to roll over, so you pretended to be sleeping. The door closed and footsteps approached. You felt Marcus's lips on the top of your head and opened your eyes.

"Forgive me, did I wake you up?"

You turned your head and looked at him, into his brown eyes. Was this the man who was unfaithful to his wife? It was impossible. You gave him a smile. "I can't sleep without you."

His smirked. "I'll be right back." He said and removed his shawl first, then his sandals. He ran his fingers through his hair, adjusting, and sat on the bed, crawling in next to you. He then gave you a kiss on the temple, then on the nose, and then on the lips. "I've missed you. Both of you." He put his hand on your belly and smiled when he felt a kick.

"We've missed you too. I suppose it's because you're always coming in late at night these days." You tried to keep your tone calm. His expression changed for a moment as if he was thinking about what to say, which made you a little confused.

"If I might ask for a little more patience, my lady? I'll be going at night less often very soon, I promise."

This left you feeling even more confused. Did he mean after the birth?

"How was the banquet? Did you have a good time?”

Oh, right. I had a great time, indeed!

"It would have been better if Julia hadn't been there."

Marcus frowned. "Or did she say something to upset you?"

You looked him in the eye, but he wasn't asking questions or seeming to expect anything. He seemed genuinely concerned and sincere. "No, she's her usual self, never mind her. Besides, she is the one who got upset. I might have said some harsh things to her." You grinned.

He raised his eyebrows. "You? My Aurelia? Did you really do it?"

"Yes, sir. I did.”

He laughed. "You did well. I love my princess even more when she is tough," he said with a grin, putting his hand under your chin and kissing your lips.

Gods, his mouth tasted so good, and your tongue felt truly blessed. You couldn't help but wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. Marcus placed his hands on either side of you. He was almost starting to undress you, but he managed to stop and pull back. He broke the kiss, gently pushing your hands away. In response, you gave a little frown and pursed your lips, as you always did. He smiled and placed his hand on the back of your neck, guiding your head towards his chest.

'We should get some sleep now, my love." He was breathing heavily. Trying to calm himself down, stroking your hair with one hand while the other was just above your belly. He spoke to the baby for a while, feeling the kicks, and then he fell asleep. You watched him in his sleep, admiring his perfect nose, chin, eyebrows, and his curly grey hair. You had to get rid of this suspicion that was spreading like poison inside you. You fell asleep too, thinking about how to do it. You woke up more than twice over the rest of the night because your growing uterus was putting pressure on your bladder, leaving less room for urine and more frequent urges to pee. Fortunately, you had a devoted husband who was kind enough to wait for you at the door of the latrine while you peed. It must be a sin to slander this wonderful man.

When you opened your eyes in the morning and realised Marcus wasn't in bed, you had the urge to look up. However, you let out a slight groan when you felt a rather strong kick in your stomach.

"Good morning to you too, little one." You mumbled sleepily.

"Another kick?" Marcus asked. He was at his desk, looking like he was busy with some papers.

"Yes. It seems our child is eager to come out. Well, I'm really looking forward to it." You said with a sigh.

"Are you certain? I'm just afraid we won't be able to hold him once he starts walking. He's going to tire us out."

You giggled. "I agree." You said you had a hard time trying to sit up in bed. Marcus got up from his desk and came over to help you. "And I am certain."

“Hm?"

You grabbed his hand and pulled him closer. "You asked me if I was certain. So, yes I am. I would like to give birth to our child as soon as possible so that I can be able to touch you in the way that I desire."

He swallowed, his heart starting to race. He then lowered his head and whispered into your ear. "I must say, my lady, you try my patience too much. Be sure my revenge will be great.’

‘'I am eagerly awaiting." You giggled.

"You are quite mischievous." He chuckled and kissed you on the cheek.

After breakfast, you accompanied Marcus to the stables to visit Unio and Dromos. Once you had finished feeding them, Marcus proposed that he teach you how to groom. First, he made sure Unio stayed still then he handed you the brush. Unio sniffed the brush, her hot breath made you giggle.

"I think she wants to eat this. I believe you've already eaten quite a lot, have you not?"

Marcus laughed. "Start with her withers, right up here," he guided your arm to the top of her.

"I haven't seen Mau since we returned," you murmured as you brushed Unio's mane. Marcus put his hand on yours, and the other hand on your waist. Unio let out a soft whinny, it seemed that your movements were helping to relax her.

"I didn't see her either."

"I asked everyone but no one saw her," you said, pursing your lips. You missed her as much as everyone and everything else. She was one of the things that reminded you of your days in Egypt, after all. Marcus noticed your sad expression.

"It's possible she went elsewhere when the villa was abandoned. I think she'll be back."

"Do you really think so?"

"Yes, I do." He touched your cheek. "Listen, I really don't want to see you upset about it. You've been feeling a bit worried about everything lately, which is a concern for me.”

Well, he was right, but there was nothing you could do. "I have to admit that I'm feeling a little nervous as the big day approaches, but it's been worse since you went off to war. Those days were pretty tough for me." He could hear worry in your voice. "I'm scared, Marcus. I'm scared that at if something might happen and we'll be separated again."

He put his arm around you. "We don't know what the future holds, but I'll do what I have to do. If I have to fight, I will." You bowed your head he put his hand under your chin, lifting your face up. "To fulfill our dreams. For our child." His gaze fell to your stomach. "Or should I say, for our children, dozens of them," he said with a grin.

You giggled at him and then nodded. "We'll have a bright future, Marcus. You'll be winning victories, and I'll be raising our children."

"My beautiful Aurelia," he cupped your face gently. "As the Gods are my witnesses, to have won you is my greatest, most glorious victory."

You smiled and he kissed your lips passionately, lovingly. You put your arms around his neck and he put his around your waist, but your belly prevented him.

"It looks like I'll have to wait a little longer to wrap you in my arms the way I did before." He said with a laugh. You place your hands on your waist. "I suppose I'll have to wait until I get my waist back, too."

He laughed again, and you joined in. Unio also let out a whine, as if they wanted to share in your joy.

In the evening, Marcus wore his white tunic and red shawl just as he did on other evenings and left the villa. You found yourself grappling with the same feelings of unease as you had the day before. You needed to put an end to it, and tonight was the night. That's why you sent one of the slaves and asked Cato to come to the villa. Norell spotted you and Decima on your way to him, but you made an excuse and avoided her. You were sure she'd tell Tullia everything, which would make things more complicated. Cato was in the stables and greeted you when he saw you.

"My lady, may I ask why you sent for me? Are you well?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I hope no one realized you coming here."

"No, they didn't. The training was over anyway. It's usually quiet in the evenings."

"Not for your general, apparently," you said, squinting. "Cato, I'm going to ask you a question and I need you to be honest with me, alright?”

He opened his eyes as wide as he could. "How could I possibly deceive you, my lady? Or  maybe I have made a mistake?"

"No, this has nothing to do with you. It's about the General, my husband."

Cato looked at Decima and then back at you, surprised.

"I'm all ears."

"General Acacius... he... at night…" You took a deep breath to continue. "I want to know where he spends the whole night.'"

He scratched his head, looking thoroughly confused. ‘'You mean, somewhere other than the barracks? He does meet with the legates from time to time. And then..." he said, "And…" You got the feeling he wasn't being entirely truthful when he suddenly averted his eyes.

"And what else?"

He took a deep breath.

"Tell me," you demanded.

"He doesn't usually tell me where he's going, but over the last few days, he's been leaving in the middle of the night with Sir Octavius in an incognito outfit. And the other night I heard them talking..." He shook his head. "Maybe I misheard."

"You said with Octavius?" Decima enquired.

Now she looked as concerned as you were.

"Tell us what you heard.”

He took a moment to swallow. "Once I'd helped him take off his armour and closed the door on my way out, Sir Octavius asked if they were heading somewhere. The general said to him that they need to get going..." Cato bowed his head. Was he embarrassed?

Your heart started to beat faster. "And where is that place they're heading to?"

"Tell us quickly, Cato." Decima was annoyed.

Cato answered without looking up. "Um... Whore house. Forgive me, but they said they were going there."

Hearing those words again made your body tremble with anger.

There was silence for a short time. It was only when Decima touched your cheek that you realised you were crying.

"Are you alright?"

You looked at her, unable to speak.

"Forgive me. It's a stupid question, isn't it?"

You wiped your tears. "He..." Your voice was a little shaky. "And where are he and Octavius now?"

Cato lifted his head, but he still couldn't meet your gaze. "They left just before I did, my lady, but I really don't know where they went this time.”

"Go and let them know I need the carriage to be ready."

They looked at you with their eyes wide open.

"My lady, but..."

"Or did you not hear what I said?"

Cato swallowed. "I'll get it ready, my lady."

"One more thing. I want you to keep this between us. This conversation never happened. Do you understand?"

He nodded and strode purposefully towards the courtyard to find the coachman. "What are you thinking?" Decima asked.

"We're going there. I need to see for myself."

"You are mad. How are you going to go there like this?" she asked, looking at your big belly. "What if something happens?  They might not even be there..."

"Decima. I have to get rid of this suspicion that torments me. You understand me, don't you?

She let out a sigh. "I understand you perfectly. Alright, I'm coming with you to make sure Octavius isn't betraying me."

"We need to change our outfits though. If I come in, the others might get suspicious, so you go and bring cloaks for both of us."

"I hope we're not doing anything wrong, my lady."

You crossed your arms. "We'll see soon who's doing the wrong thing."

"Still, I really hope it's a misunderstanding." She said with a sad tone.

"I do hope so, dear.”

At your own request, Coachman took you to a location that was a considerable distance from the whore house. You told him to wait for your return and proceeded to head towards the street.  You were waiting at the corner, which afforded you a clear view of the entrance.

"This is rather absurd, don't you think?" Decima whinnied.

"There's no need to be concerned. We'll simply observe from a distance."

This street, which was quite lively at this time of night, was much the same tonight. The sounds of people laughing and walking by could be heard echoing throughout the street. Given the lack of light, it was unlikely that you would attract attention, although it was possible that the guards at the door might notice you.

"I'm sorry," you murmured as you gazed at the gate, hoping against hope that you would not see the face you expected to see, every time someone new came in or out. "I can imagine it must be hard for you to come here again."

Decima shook her head. "What happened in the past is not something that affects me any more. I suppose that everything changed for me after I met Octavius.

"Decima," you smiled at her, but your expression changed as you remembered why you were there.

"Ah, there they are." She said, pointing forward.

You looked over and saw Marcus and Octavius, wearing their black cloaks, coming out. You turned on your heel and leaned against the wall, not because you wanted to hide but because you were pretty shaken. Decima kept her eyes on them.

"I can't believe it, Decima. They were right. How could he do this to me? Am I not attractive anymore? Am I ugly? Does he no longer love me?"

"Aurelia-"

"Couldn't he have waited a little longer? I just don't understand why he did this to me. What am I going to do now?"

"Aurelia-"

"No, don't say anything. There's nothing more to say-"

"Aurelia, shut up for a minute, please." She shushed you.

You looked at her in surprise.

"Forgive me, but you'd better take a look at this.'‘

"I've seen enough." You said, shrugging your shoulders.

"Actually, you haven't. Please, take a look."

You did as she said and took another look, and you were just as surprised as before. Right next to them was a blond-haired man wearing a cloak, just like them.

“Geta!?”

Decima covered your mouth and pulled you behind the wall. "Shhh. You'll get us caught."

You kept your voice low. "But I don't understand. Geta is here too? I am greatly disappointed to find that all the men in my life are so unreliable."

"Gods! Aurelia, try to stay calm for a minute." Her voice was almost pleading. "I don't think the situation is as it seems."

"How do you mean?"

"That's Felix and Aris over there. And those are the Praetorians with Emperor Geta."

You peeked and saw that she was right.

"I think it's like a secret mission or something." She looked at you nervously. "We came here for nothing."

You bit your lower lip. "So.. We've got it all wrong."

Suddenly, they all looked in your direction, and you felt your heart racing as you stepped back behind the wall. "Decima, we have to get out of here now."

"Indeed."

You had just stepped into the street when a familiar voice called out from behind you making you freeze.

"You two! Stop right there!" Octavius’ voice was sharp.

Decima looked at you with concern from under the hood, but you took her arm and guided her forward. Aris and Felix stepped in front of you. Someone drew their sword, and the sound of it ringing out echoed through the street. It was Marcus. He tilted his head to look at you, reached out, and pushed back your hood, a playful look on his face as he did so. He'd already figured out who you were.

The others looked at you in surprise and bowed their heads.

"My lady, no matter how much you try to hide your pretty face, your belly gives you away." 

You averted your eyes, and he sheathed his sword.

"I really wonder what you are doing here."

You looked at Decima and saw that Octavius had come to her side. You then looked back at Marcus with a hesitant look. He was waiting for your answer, raising his eyebrows.

"I have the same question for you, General." You said stubbornly.

Marcus ordered the others to go to Geta's side, then turned to you again.

"You never cease to surprise me, Aurelia. How could you come here like this?"

"I had to," you snapped.

"Did someone mention they saw me here? And instead of trusting me, you came here to check on me?"

"Those women are shameless. They were being pretty mean, laughing and joking. I didn't want to believe it, but you were being so mysterious. I thought maybe you wanted to come here because you've stopped touching me. I thought... maybe... you don't love me anymore."

Suddenly he grabbed your shoulders, his expression was stern. "You silly woman." He gave your cheek a little nudge with his nose, looking at you quite tenderly now. "All those wretch women would drown in a single drop of my love for you. Don't ever believe them." He took your face in his hands. "Don't you know that my days and nights all belong to you? My moon, my sun, my spring... Don't you know how much I love you?" He bent down and kissed your temple, his beard tickling a little, making you smile.

"Marcus, I love you too. You are the breath I take, without you I am incomplete, wounded. But suspicion has driven me mad. Forgive me.”

He smiled and then grabbed your arm. "We'll talk about this when we return home. Now I have to complete my mission."

"What mission is that?"

"I came here because your brother asked me to keep an eye on his cousin. He has been meeting secretly with members of the Senate. It's a bit of a long story."

"Sister?" Geta laughed. "Acacius, it's pretty amazing you could recognise your wife from that distance. Remarkable!" He gave a little grin and turned up his thumb like when he does at the Colosseum, which you found a bit annoying.

"So my husband had to come here because of you?" You asked, frowning.

"It was meant to be a secret meeting, so he hid from you. I mean, I know how stubborn you are, but I didn't expect you to do this."

"Secret?" You laughed hysterically. "You caught by Horatia's husband."

Marcus crossed his arms squinting at Geta. "See? I warned you, but you were insistent."

"I couldn't trust anyone else but you, Acacius. Besides, It only made it easier for them to think you were unfaithful."

"How could you say that so easily? He would never do such a thing, I trust him, but you made him look like he did!" You barked.

Marcus smirked.

"Hah but yet you are here, sister."

"Your mother made me!" You took a step towards him, Marcus grabbed your hand. "That shameless woman accused my husband!" Suddenly warm water ran down your legs, you looked down with wide eyes and saw your legs all soaked including your sandals.

You froze.

"Gods!" Decima cried out.

It took the men around you a bit longer to figure out what had happened.

"Sister, did you just… pee on yourself?"

You grabbed his collar angrily. "The baby's coming!" You yelled.

Then they all froze.

A strong contraction in your womb made you groan in pain. Marcus was unsure of what to do for a moment, but when he heard you moan, he came round and wrapped his arms around you.

"Aurelia! My love, are you alright?"

You shook your head and you grabbed his collar this time. "Marcus, I can't give birth here. Please take me home now, please!"

He nodded, "You're right," he said before taking you in his arms in a hurry.

Another contraction hit you. "Aah! Marcus, please!" You begged.

"What if she gives birth before you get to the villa?" Geta asked, sounding anxious. "Maybe here," he said, glancing behind him.

"I won't give birth to my child in a whore house!" You yelled at the top of your lungs. The whole street was looking at you, but you ignored them.

"Sir, we need the midwife," Decima said.

"I'll get there before you," said Octavius.

You were having lower back pain along with contractions making you writhe.

"Acacius! Palatine Hill is closer to here than the villa. You would not want her to give birth on the street, are you?"

You moaned loudly in pain. Marcus frowned, thinking.

You clenched your jaw and tried to speak. "No, Marcus, I want to go home, please. Ow!"

"There's no time for a discussion, Aurelia! Octavius, go to the villa and speak with the midwife. Then bring her to Palatine Hill."

"Yes, sir!" He said and rushed towards his horse.

"Damn Palatine Hill!" You shouted.

Marcus grinned nervously, whispering into your ear. "Just hold on, love."

"The carriage is just over there," Decima said, pointing ahead.

Marcus ran over and helped you into the carriage, carrying you in his arms. You held his other hand tightly the whole way, and he held yours back just as tight. He was kissing your fingertips one by one, trying to soothe you as you groaned in pain.

"Breathe in, my love, take deep breaths."

You did as he said, but when the carriage reached Palatine Hill, you started to feel a bit scared. Marcus hurried down from the carriage, holding you tightly. Decima got off right after you. The guards at the entrance to the grand gate looked at you with surprise.

"Open the gate now!" Marcus yelled at them.

"General. Princess," they greeted you as you continued to moan. Then they opened the gate for you to enter, looking worried for you.

Soon Geta arrived with the other guards. He immediately dismounted his horse and ran after Marcus. The guards struggled to keep up with him. Julia heard the voices from the other courtyard, heading there. She realised Geta first.

"Your Majesty! Where have you been? Elagabalus is nowhere to be seen and- What is this?”

Marcus ignored her and headed for the stairs to your chambers, your moans and screams accompanying him all the way.

Julia was left gaping after you two, while Geta followed at a brisk pace.

"Not now, mother! Aurelia is in labor! My nephew is coming!"

Julia ran to catch up with him. "But why is she giving birth here instead of her house?"

You could hear them talking as Marcus carried you upstairs with you in his arms, but you didn't care.

"If you're going to keep complaining, please stay here!"  Geta shouted at her which made Julia give up climbing the stairs. She smiled as she looked at the slaves hurrying upstairs. "Since your midwife isn't here, you might even die, Aurelia," she muttered to herself.

As soon as he got into the room, Marcus put you on the bed and put lots of pillows behind you.

"Marcus, please don't leave me."

He grabbed your hand again. "Never, my love, I'm here.”

Decima helped you take off your sandals while Marcus held your hand tightly.

Geta came over to you. "How are you holding up, sister?"

"The contractions aren't that frequent, but I can feel the baby's coming."

"Octavius will fetch her right away, just hang in there, please." Marcus kissed your hand.

You smiled at him. "Decima, you know what's needed. Make sure everything's ready for the midwife when she arrives."

Decima nodded and stepped towards the slaves. "Bring warm clean water, oil, a basin, and lots of clean clothes!"

"You heard her! Move! Quick, quick!" Geta gestured for them to leave the room.

Marcus stood up took off his black cloak and sat next to you on the bed and put his arm around. You rested your head on his chest. The contractions were becoming more frequent and painful, but Marcus holding his hand helped you to stay strong.

"It seems you two have somehow ended up here again," Geta said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

You gave a forced smile. "That may be true, but let's not forget this is all because of you."

He frowned. "Am I the one who told you to spy on your husband in the middle of the night with your big belly? Even a place like that…"

"Don't even think about mentioning that place!" You barked. Your voice was louder than you intended because of the pain.

Marcus pressed his lips to the top of your head, you could feel him smiling.

"However. My nephew wants to be born here so he can meet his uncle first. I like him already." His famous smug smile appeared all over his face.

After a few pretty intense contractions and the pain they caused, you were relieved to hear that the midwife had finally arrived at the palace. Marcus stood up when the midwife came in the room. 

The midwife greeted you both and asked permission to lift the hem of your tunic. Marcus made Geta out of the room and then himself. The Midwife examined you vaginally to see how your opening was and how close it was to your cervix. She knew you were a medicus, of course, so she asked.

"My lady. How far apart are the contractions?"

"Five minutes apart." You replied.

"A walk will do you good, my lady. I'll prepare what you need."

You nodded and got up with Decima's help. Marcus came in to talk to the midwife through the door.

"There was still time. But it looks like our child will be born early. Has something happened to him?" He kept his tone low and gave you a quick look.

"Keep your heart at ease, general. Your child is fine, thank the Gods. Something seems to have triggered the labour. I hope your child will be born in good health. I'll make sure Lady Auelia has everything she needs for labour, if I may."

"I hope so."

She nodded and headed for the stairs accompanied with the slaves.

"Don't worry, Acacius," Geta said, putting his hand on his shoulder. "You know how strong and stubborn she is. I'm sure everything will be fine."

They were looking at you, both concerned about you and excited for the baby. And you looked at them both and smiled, maybe for the last time before the birth.

After walking around the room with Marcus for a while, you started to feel too much pain making you unable to stand up.

"The contractions are a minute apart now," you told the midwife.

"Please sit on the bed, my lady." She glanced at the slaves. "Could you pour the water?" She washed her hands while Marcus helped you to get settled on the bed. The midwife then looked at the men in the room, her gaze timid. "General, labour has now begun. Rest assured, I'll do everything I can for our princess."

Marcus nodded, stroked your head, and kissed the top of it. "Be strong my love. I'll be right outside the door."

You would have liked him to stay with you, but you had never seen or heard of a man doing that. So you didn't ask him for it.

"You won't believe it, but I'll pray for you and my nephew, sister," Geta said with a smile. Then they left the room together.

You let out a scream as Marcus left the room and the contraction intensified. Your chest felt tight and you got a sharp pain from your tailbone to your lower back.

With the help of the slaves, the midwife rubbed olive oil on her hands and pressed them on your belly. The baby was running out of time, as your waters had broken hours ago. The pain was getting worse by the minute. Decima was wiping the sweat from your forehead and giving you soothing and encouragement. As your screams echoed throughout the Domus Severiana, Marcus realised he'd never felt so scared and helpless in his life. Octavius watched his friend anxiously as Marcus balled his hands into fists and paced back and forth. Geta was just as wound up as well. Your screams, which were getting louder and louder by the minute, were making them things worse for them. At last, Marcus could bear it no longer.

"That's enough," he hissed and stormed into the room. Geta was going to stop him but his expression made him give up.

Marcus closed the door behind him. When he turned round, he was taken aback to see the slaves soaking cloths in water and handing them to the midwife. They were in such a hurry that they didn't even notice he'd entered the room.

“My lady, push a little more,” the midwife said in a pleading voice.

"Marcus! It hurts! Please make it stop! Please!"

He wrapped his arm tightly around you. "I know, love. I know. I'm here. You can do it. You're the strongest woman I know.’"

Another push and another scream. "Something's wrong, isn't it?" You asked the midwife.

"The baby's not in the right position for labour." I feel a foot. I'll have to turn him. "Just hang in there and push when I tell you to."

When the next contraction hit, you screamed with the most horrible sound Marcus has ever heard. Then you leaned against him you cried out in horrible, broken sobs, your whole body trembling with the effort.

"You're doing so well," Marcus whispers into your sweaty hair, "So well, my love, just a little more."

Once the midwife had managed to turn the baby, you could feel her fingers inside you. Your uterine walls were now ready to push the baby out. You grabbed Marcus's hand and squeezed it, then started pushing with all your might. But it didn't work. The baby wasn't cooperating. Something was wrong, and everyone in the room knew it. But that wasn't the worst of it. You were running out of strength. You weren't sure how much longer you could hold on.

"Bring some more hot water," said the midwife. Decima wiped the sweat from your forehead, Marcus gathered up your sweat-soaked hair, pushed it behind your neck and kissed your forehead.

"Deep breaths. Come on, my love." You breathed in and out with him.

"Could you get our princess some water and honey?" The midwife asked one of the slaves.

The midwife smiled at you as Decima helped you drink water. "Your child is going to be very stubborn, my lady. He insists on not coming."

You and Marcus looked at each other and smiled. But the pain returned and took your breath away. You gripped Marcus' and Decima's hands tightly and took a deep breath. The midwife checked between your legs under the covers and her eyes lit up.

"My lady. Now, push with all your strength. I can see the head is crowning!"

For some reason – maybe because of the unbearable pain – you couldn't help but get annoyed at her cheerfulness and want to choke her. But Marcus's kiss gave you the courage you needed, and you took a deep breath and pushed with all your strength. Then you turned your face away from his and screamed again, hoarse from the effort of so many hours. You screamed and screamed, feeling his cheek against your racing pulse, his lips on your cheek. And finally, your screams were replaced by a high-pitched wail, and…

The midwife stood up with the most beautiful little thing in her arms. "A healthy boy." She said cheerfully, holding the baby out for you to see. Then she gave the baby a little shake which helped him to take his first breath, and he let out a loud cry that filled the room with joy. "You did it, my lady!"

Marcus kissed your temple. "You are marvelous, my love. I’m very proud of you."

“My lady! He’s beautiful!” Decima squeezed your hand.

You smiled at them, feeling exhausted. Your legs were shaking and aching, and you could barely feel your body, but at least now you were no longer in pain.

Geta came bursting into the room. "Has it been born? Has my nephew been born?" He was looking for the child who had just been crying. He stopped suddenly when he saw that the bed was wet with your blood. The midwife carefully cut the baby's cord and wrapped it in a cloth with Decima's help. She placed the baby in Marcus's arms, and he smiled at him. You started to cry as you watched them. You'd never seen anything so beautiful in your life and you were pretty sure you never would. Marcus came over to you with your son in his arms. You looked at the little one who had just caused you hours of pain and were amazed at how beautiful he was.

The beautiful infant who had given them all such a scare was big in size, adorably chubby, and had a sprinkle of brown hair covering his crown. He was extremely healthy-looking... and had a cry very similar to yours.

He was perfect…

“Gods!” Geta clasped his hands. “Look how tiny he is!”

You were weeping with joy, and relief, too, that the ordeal was finally over.

From the moment you laid eyes on his sweet little face, all your tiredness just melted away. You reached out, and Marcus gently placed the baby in your arms. This feeling... It was the most amazing thing you could ever imagine. When you first felt that magical moment of motherhood, everything around you disappeared for a moment. It was just you and your baby. Then you looked at Marcus, who was sitting next to you. The baby grabbed his father's finger and held on tight, and a big smile appeared on Marcus's face. Everything was just perfect, beyond amazing, and you felt like you were finally complete.

‘"Thank you," he whispered in your ear.

It took you a moment to look up and realise what he was saying, as you were so overwhelmed by the baby's beauty that you couldn't take your eyes off him.

"For what?" you asked, your voice clearly showing how tired you were.

"For giving me a family, one I could never have dreamed of."

You looked at him and smiled. He kissed you on the lips, but your kiss was interrupted by a throat-clearing sound coming from someone else.

"I want to hold my nephew too." Geta held out his arms.

You looked at Marcus, after receiving your approval, gently took the baby from you and carefully placed him in his uncle's arms.

"He looks just like you, Acacius! I'd like to congratulate you both. Thank you for making me an uncle."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Marcus said sincerely.

"Your Majesty, general, if you could excuse us, we need to clean up Lady Aurelia. And the baby needs to be breastfed."

Geta gave the baby to you and rubbed your head. "Rest now. You must be tired from all that screaming, you noisy."

You rolled your eyes at him and smiled. Marcus came over and kissed your cheek. "I will be back, my love."

You nodded and watched them leave the room. With the help of the midwife and Decima, you removed your bloodied tunic and they cleaned you up and quickly put you into a new one. The slaves were changing the bed sheets at the same time. Then you lay down on the bed to breastfeed the baby for the first time. He was already hungry and opened his little mouth wide, easily grasping the nipple. You were both very tired, so you fell asleep together. Decima gently laid the baby down next to you and covered you with the bedcover.

Marcus and Geta left the room together and went downstairs. When Octavius and the others saw them, they nodded.

"Congratulations, sir."

"Thank you, brother."

They embraced each other. The others also offered their congratulations to him and Geta.

Geta smiled at them and turned to Marcus. "I know it's not the right time, but... Elagabalus... Tomorrow, I will exile that bastard from Rome. I have a good reason to stand my ground against the Senate too. I owe you all one, Acacius. I shall reward you. Whatever you want is yours."

"Your Majesty, I already have everything I want. You simply need to be an emperor who keeps his word to his people."

"I'll make sure I do." He promised and then left his side.

As he walked toward his chambers, he noticed his mother sitting in the courtyard.

"So it's a boy." She gave the wine glass a little shake.

"I can hear the sadness in your voice, mother."

She stood up. "Apologies! I'm not as pleased as you are! Your throne is under threat. You must wed. Refuse no longer.”

"I'd love to be here listening to your nonsense, but I'm really tired." He said and turned away.

"You'll have to get rid of him sooner or later."

Geta stopped and turned around, looking annoyed.

"Are you out of your mind? I've already got enough on my plate, and now you're telling me to kill a little baby, my nephew? The real threat is Elagabulus, thanks to your false wisdom.”

She folded his arms. "We overcame Macrinus' dominance in the Senate thanks to him, but I was unaware of his true intentions. Fortunately for us, you caught him in the act."

"Thanks to Acacius, mother!" Geta snapped. "You may have forgotten or ignored his sacrifices and heroism, but I will be grateful to that man for the rest of my life. Also, I care deeply for Aurelia and my nephew." He looked at his mother with a cold, threatening gaze. "I am warning you. If you ever say anything mean or do anything to upset her, I will exile you from Rome like my brother Caracalla did. Don't think I can't."

Julia froze. She was taken aback by his reaction. She watched him walk towards the stairs, her anger evident in her trembling body. She then threw her cup forward in a gesture of frustration. As soon as it hit the marble floor, it made a loud clatter, wine spilling over the surface. Geta looked down from the balustrade. Before going into his room, he called one of the guards over. "Keep an eye on Lady Domna. I want to know every step she takes. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Your Highness.”

You opened your eyes in a state of panic, gasping for breath. When you realised the baby wasn't with you, it felt like your heart had been ripped out of your chest.

"Marcus!"

You sat up in bed but groaned as a sharp pain shot through your womb.

Marcus turned towards you in shock, and you took a deep breath when you saw the baby in his arms.

Decima rushed in to check on you.

"Forgive me. I heard your voice..."

"It's alright," Marcus said. When she left the room, he approached you. "Are you all right, my love?"

"I had a nightmare," you said, your heart still pounding in your throat.

"They were taking him away from me, Marcus." Your eyes filled with tears.

In your dream, you saw someone taking the baby away. Your legs were a little shaky, still affected by the dream.

Marcus looked concerned and handed you the baby. "As long as I'm here, no one can take him or hurt him."

"I can't stay here. Not when Julia is around." You brought the baby to the breast, with your nipple aimed at the roof of his mouth. Marcus sat on the end of the bed next to you.

"My love, you've lost a lot of blood and you're battered. You need to recover your strength. Let's stay here tonight. We'll return tomorrow if you feel better.”

"Is it not still morning?"

"I suppose you didn't realise how the day went by because you slept in. The little one looks hungry too." He said with a grin. The sounds he made while sucking were so beautiful that Marcus couldn't help but sigh. "I've never seen anything more beautiful in my life." He stroked the baby's head gently with his hand.

"That's what you said about my beauty once." You teased.

He looked at you. "That's because he has some of his mother's beauty in him." He smirked. "Speaking of beauty." He stood up and walked over to the table. He took something out of the leather bag.

You were curious about what it was. The baby seemed to be full, so you pulled your nipple back and made your baby's back lie along your arm. Marcus sat back down on the bed and handed you something wrapped in a fancy cloth.

"I brought this for you from Aleppo. I had intended to give it to you earlier, but unfortunately, it fell and broke along with other items during the return journey by ship. I had it repaired and I thought it would be nice to give it to you after the birth."

"What is this?"

"Let me hold the child. You open it."

With great care, you placed the baby in his arms and opened your gift which was wrapped in a bluish cloth. It was a circular object, crafted from silver and featuring a flower-shaped relief. You turned it over and were somewhat taken aback to see your own reflection on its shiny surface.

"Much better than the bronze mirrors. I wanted you to see the beauty I see. Are you pleased?"

You looked at him. "Marcus, this is beautiful."

He smiled and carefully placed the baby next to you. Then he sat down next to you again and kissed you on the lips. "It pales in comparison to your beauty, my love." And he kissed you again, passionately, with love and a little longing. "You know, you're much more beautiful now. Your breasts have grown a lot." He swallowed hard. "They keep coming to mind, making me want you even more."

Your cheeks flushed. "Like you said before, we'll have to be patient a little longer, General." Your fingers ran along his collarbone.

"But I really want to return home tomorrow."

He nodded and kissed your hand. "As you wish, my lady."

@orcasoul @pedroslut4eva @immyowndefender @lailathepedritofan @screechingchildfury @shinymusicpanda @somedayheaven @ivoryandflame @negrita2345 @music-lover09 @javiismyhsbnd @idontcareihavenoidea @jisungandpedrolover @mmkkzz @ro-nahime-things @indiegirlunited @kluvspedro @movievillainess721 @berriesarepunk @bonadeamo @heramj @blushingwueen @smoochispoof @littlemisspascal @kirashess @okaaaadereeee @this--is--music @mmkkzz @ro-nahime-things @indiegirlunited @kluvspedro @movievillainess721 @berriesarepunk @bonadeamo @heramj @blushingwueen @smoochispoof @littlemisspascal @kirashess @melsunshine @meetmeatyourworst @footballfangirl94 @daejangandimja @ariesandwolves @hooomansstuff @vlonerv @chewie-bars

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[0bnoxious0range]

It’s so easy to think of Kevin in terms of his relationships with other characters that I think we often forget about how he might view himself. The obvious answer is probably that he thinks highly of himself because he's an arrogant and pedantic asshole. But that self-importance, while undeniable, is only really when it comes to Exy. He's so haughty and fussy when it comes to Exy because he's usually right, and he's Kevin Day, son of Kayleigh Day. But it's also because Exy is his entire self worth. It's the only part of him most people care about so it's the part of him he holds closest to his chest; the part of him he so proudly displays. Because without Exy who is Kevin Day, son of Kayleigh Day? I can't imagine how terrifying losing his left hand was, because losing it was not just losing his career, but his entire identity at the time. So no, I don't think Kevin really thinks highly of himself, I think Kevin tries his best to live up to his mother's ghost; I think he tries his best to not let down his fans; I think he tries his best when it comes to his acquaintances friends. Kevin Day tries his best, it's the only thing he knows how to do. So cut him some slack y'all.

[navybrat817]

How often does Dad!Bucky get hit on when he's in the baby aisle grabbing diapers?

A lot, Cia! And you get to see it one day.

The Dad Diaries: Diaper Aisle

Pairing: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You witness a woman flirting with Bucky, but you don't react the way you expect. Word Count: Almost 1.2k Warnings: Fluff, flirting, reflecting, first time dad, slight feels (it's me), parenthood, random woman thirsty for Bucky (we get it), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a dad, okay?). A/N: Next part of The Dad Diaries and from your perspective. Hope you lovelies enjoy. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky doesn’t like to make a big deal out of people flirting with him. For starters, he’s a married man and has made it clear that he has no intention of ever stepping out on you. He would never. You are his wife and soulmate, the love of his life, and the mother of his child. You’re all he needs.

Second, he’s unassuming. You tell him regularly how handsome he is, but he isn’t arrogant about his looks and doesn’t think every woman who looks his way has the intention of hitting on him. He may give a polite smile or nod if he catches someone staring, but will immediately divert his attention back to the task at hand, such as getting those diapers for Jamie.

Fatherhood is sexy on him.

“Your Dada is amazing,” you say to Jamie as you wait beside your cart for Bucky to grab the box.

You smile to yourself when a woman nearly runs her cart into the shelving when Bucky walks past. Not that you blame her for staring. With his luscious locks flowing free, his worn jean jacket fitting like it was made for him, and the sweatpants leaving little to the imagination, you would’ve gawked at him, too.

Which you did earlier and were now.

“Excuse me,” the woman calls out loudly, making Bucky pause as he puts the box under his arm. “So sorry to bother you, but would you mind grabbing a jar for me off the top shelf? I would really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he says, giving you a small smile from across the aisle as he goes to help the woman.

You wait patiently as the lady thanks him with a grin. You get why she wants Bucky close by. Beyond his overall gorgeousness and kindness, he displays a responsible side of himself when he walks through the baby aisle. He never carries himself in a way that says he’s annoyed or inconvenienced by being there. Carefully selecting the diapers and anything else needed shows how attentive he is. And responsible.

You understand the appeal.

Though, you do wish the lady would stop undressing your husband with her eyes. You practically hear her inhale when he’s close enough. He does smell good, but does she have to step into his space?

“This one?” Bucky asks.

The woman has to blink a few times before she responds. “Oh, sorry. The one next to it. You really are too kind,” she answers, sweeping her gaze over him from head to toe as he reaches over for another jar. You have to bite the inside of your cheek when she takes it from his hand. “It’s too bad you can’t help me bring this stuff in when I get home.”

Yeah, it is too bad.

Clearing his throat, Bucky nods in your direction. “Well, my son might miss me if I’m away for too long. And I’ll miss him and my wife.”

The woman goes rigid as she looks your way. “Your wife?”

Bucky smiles from ear to ear when you wave. “Yeah, my wife,” he proudly states, making your heart skip a beat.

Any jealousy or bad feeling you have slips away when you see some of the light leave the woman’s eyes and the sag in her shoulders. It’s almost like seeing her in a different light because you know how you’ve felt since giving birth. At times, you feel less attractive than normal, that your body won’t be the way it used to be. You wonder if Bucky still wants you.

And you want to be seen.

While you don’t know her story, you understand the need to feel wanted and desired. It doesn’t go away when you become a mother. You don’t even know if she is a mother or if she’s in the aisle shopping for a sister, friend, or someone else. Maybe her partner isn’t giving her the attention she needs. Maybe she isn’t with anyone.

Maybe she just needed a win today.

“Take care,” Bucky says politely before he walks toward you, leaving the woman alone to stare after him. “Anything else we need?” He asks once he puts the diapers on the bottom of the cart, giving Jamie a small tickle and making all three of you smile.

“I think we’re good,” you say, glancing down the aisle. You could grab Bucky’s hand and stake your claim as the woman makes eye contact with you, but you give her a small nod and a sympathetic smile instead before you push the cart away. “That was nice of you to help her,” you say once you’re out of sight.

Bucky raises an eyebrow as he glances your way. “I don’t usually say this outright, but I’m pretty sure she was hitting on me.”

“Oh, she was,” you agree.

“Does that bother you?” He asks, brushing a kiss to your temple and making your heart race.

You shake your head as you think about it. “It did at first because it’s only natural to feel that way, but it went away pretty quickly. I have no reason to feel jealous or defensive. If it would’ve been bad or crossed a line, I would’ve stepped in. But you proudly proclaimed that I’m your wife and she backed off right away. And I know you’re coming home with Jamie and I, so why would I let it bother me?” you explain, spotting something soft in his gaze.

Like he’s amazed by you.

“That makes sense,” he says.

“I can only hope that someone like you comes along for her,” you add, your heart going out to the stranger.

The blue of Bucky’s eyes shine a bit brighter when you catch his gaze. “I love you,” he says so tenderly that you feel butterflies in your stomach and heart.

“I love you, too,” you promise before you nudge him. “And you know what? I don’t fault her at all. You know what wearing those pants does to people. It’s like some sort of sexy magic.”

His nose crinkles as he laughs, the sound making a few turn their heads. Once again, you don’t blame them for gawking. “Did you just say ‘sexy magic’ in front of our son? Is that why you like these pants?”

“Oh, yeah. You put a spell on me,” you smirk before you smile gently at your son. “And I’m very lucky for that because now I have you.”

You don’t know it yet, but Bucky will write in his diary to Jamie about how you handled yourself today. How you could’ve stormed over and grabbed him or made a snide comment to the woman, but you didn’t. And that if you felt jealous, even for a moment, you didn’t let it cloud your judgement. You know when to observe and when you need to step in. You know when to lead with your heart.

Just one of the many reasons Bucky Barnes considers himself lucky to call you his wife and the mother of his child.

And no matter how many times he gets hit on in the diaper aisle, he’ll always come home to you.

I adore this family. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[anantaru]

cw. doggy later prone bone, pet-names used: sweet girl, angel, a little dirty talk, rough n messy, fem! reader

aventurine thinks you're so pretty from behind, but alas, he believes you're even prettier when his cock ghosts greedily at your walls while he has you on all fours.

urgent with need, he decides to claim your body in the most sensual way, "let me grab you like that, come here," he orders sharply, his tip teasing your slit as you're following him obediently, your skin thickly honeyed by raw pleasure.

lecherously, he pushes you into the mattress while holding your bottom half up with his bare hands— and how warm his cordial trace was, burning benevolent marks of obedience into your skin as your muscles twitch delightfully taut beneath the harsh, sudden drag of his hips.

aventurine's hands are soft, they felt delicate and fluidic when he cradles your cheeks or holds you gently before he leans in to gift you a kiss. although in this moment, they are rough, pitiless as he fucks you while your face was squished into the dampened pillows.

for a second, aventurine slants over your back to listen to you— your heavenly sighs, those shaky whimpers or the way your body trembles when you felt his warm breath fan against your ear.

he nibbles on your earlobe, losing himself to the lewd play of his cock smearing its pre along the rills of your walls before he ends up smirking into your neck, "good job," he utters proudly, squeezing the flesh of your behind as your pussy drools over his shaft.

"this is what you get," he growls as he works his dick faster, harder and better until every sound in the room had been overthrown by the slapping of his pelvis repeatedly hitting your plush ass, "i’m so proud, my sweet girl," he continues, a rough, arrogant laugh slipping through the cracks.

his senses remain fixed on your fast breathes and his white, pearly teeth reinforce the demand of domination with a strong sink of teeth into your shoulder, your immediate following moans sleeking down to molton lust beneath his touch.

aventurine pulls you closer with a possessive arm around your naked torso, smudging his lips along the heated skin of your neck, "you're so tight… fuck… angel," he adds pressure just there— so that soon, you will feel an unrestrained climax break the limits of your body.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[tpwk-formula1]

OK, BIG order here! Lando Norris (frat Lando if you're up for it), gluten-free, red sauce, artichokes, cilantro, sausage, sweet tea, lemonade (reader giving), pink lemonade, and no aftercare. In my mind, this is a college scenario and y/n absolutely can't stand Lando, cuz he's a cocky player who gets all the girls, but he somehow wins her over, and when he gets her, he absolutely dominates and humiliates her. Sorry, I just want to think about Lando completely owning me and being so arrogant about it lol

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

Gluten free Enemies to lovers red sauce rough sex artichokes "Imagine your father saw you now. On your knees like a proper trained slut" cilanto "stop crying and fucking take it" sausage "better not waste a drop" sweet tea dumbification lemonade body worship (reading giving) pink lemonade degrading kink

TW - MEAN Lando, degrading (like a lot), slight mention of dumbification, rough sex, face fucking, multi orgasms, cum swallow, spitting into mouth (once at very end), NOT PROOF READ

WC 2600+

AN - Okay so I am writing this more in USA ideas of fraternity and sorority as that is all I know about.

Y/N POV

"Literally go away Lando," I rolled my eyes at the boy in front of me. Lando and I had met on our first day of freshman year where he proudly told me he had never been told no by a girl before. From that moment on I hated him. I always seemed to find him on campus with his tongue down another girl's throat. It has never been the same girl more than once or twice really playing into his Playboy persona. Now in our senior year of university, he was still trying to get with me.

"Y/N just give me a chance. I'll have you cumming on my cock within minutes," Lando replied back still following me through the sorority house that he happily invited himself into. No one bat an eye as he was the president of our "brother" fraternity and being the president of the sorority it wasn't all that weird to see us talking.

"Lando, I have no issues cumming with literally anyone else," I reply back before walking into my room hoping to close the door in his face. I could hear Lando scuff softly at the lie I had just told. Lando had other plans because instead of staying on the other side of the door like I had hoped, he was pushing his way into my room before closing the door and locking it with a soft click.

"Get out," I tell him trying to make my way to the door to unlock it and open it but he quickly moves in front of me blocking the door before he roughly grabs my hips and turns me around so my back is pressed against the door and we where now facing each other face to face.

"Lando, please stop," I whisper not trusting my voice to stay stable if I talk any louder.

"Y/N come on. We have been going at each other's throats for years. Just one night. Let me destroy every wall you have built between us for the past four years in one night. Let me fuck you, please," Lando replied back not making any movement just staring into my eyes waiting for an answer.

"Why?" I ask with a raised brow. I had thought after our freshman year Lando would drop the idea of getting into my pants but as the years went on and the rejection kept coming for Lando it only made him more persistent. I won't lie and say I haven't been curious. I had heard the whispers of how big his dick was, how good he fucked, and the biggest rumor of all how deliciously mean he was.

"Y/N be real with me. You're the president of the top soroity on campus, your father is the dean of the school, and you're still the only girl to reject me. You're the girl every single guy on campus wants. You have won every battle between us but today, I need to finish this war. I need you to let me fuck you," Lando replied back essentially begging to let him in. I knew if right here and right now I told Lando no he would walk out and go back to his house but the part of me that has been getting weaker recently wants him to stay and wants to put the rumors to rest.

"One night? That's all this is," I reply back and the second the words leave my mouth Lando is on me like prey.

His hand was instantly tangled into my hair and pulling me in for a heated and rough kiss. Teeth clattering against each other and tongues fighting for dominance. It was rough and messy but god did it make my knees grow weak with need.

I think Lando and I both knew one day it would come to this. I would finally break and let him ravish my body like it had been his for the taking all along, and truthfully I think it has been his all along.

"Get on you fucking knees now," Lando pulled back saying while pushing my head down. I instantly drop to my knees looking up at Lando almost waiting for him to tell me what to do next.

"I hear some of the brothers talk about how good you are with your mouth. It's like you intentionally let them fuck you so they can talk about it letting me know all about the things I've been missing out on for the past four years. So don't be fucking dense with me, out that mouth of your to use," Lando snapped at me when I didn't do anything. I was instantly clawing at the fly of his jeans trying to get it zipped as quick as possible not wanting to piss him off more than I had previously.

When his pants were unbuttoned and zipped down I softly tugged them down his legs where Lando finally helped by kicking them off the rest of the way discarding them somewhere across my room.

"It's big," I whisper while keeping my eyes trained on the hard bulge under his briefs. While I still can't fully see just how big he is I can tell he's fucking massive he is because the tight white briefs leave far too little to the imagination.

"I'm sorry what was that? I need you to speak up a bit more," Lando says with a smirk written all over his face. It was clear he had heard me but enjoyed the praise far too much.

"I said it's smaller than I expected," I replied back with false confidence. Something in Lando snapped in that moment because one second I was on my knees getting ready to suck Lando off and the next I was being dragged by my hair towards my bed where he roughly through me onto it before positioning me so my head was hanging off the side of the bed upside down.

I was dizzy from how quickly the mood had shifted from two rivals arguing and bickering to me being upside down waiting to get my face fucked by said rival.

Lando made quick work of pulling his briefs down before he roughly shoved his massive cock into my mouth. Lando gave me hardly any time to adjust to his length that was filling my throat leaving me a gagging mess under him.

When Lando starts thrusting into my mouth I can feel his balls starting to slap my nose making this moment all that more embasrrassing. How I had ended up with Lando fucking Norris's cock shoved down my throat and his balls hitting my face will always amaze me.

Suddenly I feel Lando lean down slightly making the angle all the more rough before he was tugging at my tight tank top pulling it up to expose my lacey bra too him. I could feel his big hands gripping and pulling at my tits all the while still fucking my face in such a brutal pace I could barely breath.

While one final rough thrust down my throat he holds himself there for a few seconds cutting off my airflow completely before he roughly pulls out and steps back to see me slightly rolling to my side gasping for air and coughing from the brutal attack.

"God, you're such a fucking whore. Took that so well," Lando says with a smirk before shoving two fingers down my throat to watch me gag again. I can feel Lando whiggle his fingers around slightly making me gag more before he rough pulls them out to watch me struggle for fresh air again.

"You know, I'm happy to know that your mouth isn't just good for talking," Lando says before roughly taking a handful of my hair and turning me around slightly so my head was no longer dangling off the bed but rather my legs where dangling.

I was still fully dressed but that didn't last long as Lando completely pulled my shorts and thong down in one go before pulling off my tank top so roughly he ripped it slightly. I feel Lando reach under me before unclipping my bra and roughly pulling it off my body. I had gone from completely clothed to naked as the day I was born within 30 seconds or so.

I watched as Lando fulled his shirt off leaving me to gawk as the tanned 6 pack he was sporting. While I had spent my years trying to avoid him I still had eyes and could see how hot he was.

"See something you like," Lando asks with a smirk making me wanna roll my eyes but I reframe not wanting to piss him off.

"Ya," I just whisper back too embarrassed to admit the thoughts I was thinking. Cursing myself for making him wait all these years when I could've had him all along.

"God, you're a fucking whore. I haven't even touched you are you're already starting to soak your sheets," Lando announced making me trail my trail my eyes down where I can't see much but I could tell how soaked I was just by the way my pussy lips where coated.

"Lando fucking do something," I snap not having the patience to be stared at like I was some kind of artifact on display.

"Hm, I wanna hear why you want it so bad all the sudden. For years you were adiment I would never bed you but here you are begging for it," Lando replied while slowly running his fingers up my thighs and stomach where he landed on my left nipple which he took between his fingers and gave it a tug making me moan at the pleasurable pain.

"Lando, please I just need you to fuck me," I reply with a face still covered in tears and spit and I hadn't had a chance to wipe it off.

"You beg like a proper slut you know, but I still wanna know why," Lando replies still teasing my nipples having moved his attention to my right one now.

"Fuck you, you're fucking hot. You're one of the hottest guys here, I want you to fuck me and ruin me for anyone else," I finally submit to Lando being too weak to continue to try and fight.

"Oh, so all along you've been wanting it. God, you really are a slut," Lando mutters before finally slipping into my tight pussy with so much for I'm left gasping for air.

"God you're so fucking tight. Tighter than I would've thought given everything I've hear," Lando groans once he had filled me completely. He gives me just a few seconds to gather myself before he start thrusting his hips.

"Oh fuck, Lando," I whine and moan out not really sure how to act. I had been fucked before but I have never quite been fucked like this.

I can feel Lando's pace picking up in speed and roughness leaving me gasping for air. He was getting to a point where he was being so rough it was making tears well up in my eyes.

"Stop crying and fucking take it" Lando groans when he sees the tears starting too form.

"Too much," I gasp before digging my nails into Lando's chest making him hiss in slight pain.

"It's not too much, you can fucking handle it. I can feel your pussy clenching around my cock wanting more," Lando says while delivering slow yet painfully pleasurable thursts hitting my G-spot each time.

"Lando I'm close," I whisper knowing if I talked any loud I would stutter given how much pleasure was coursing through my body.

"Do what all good sluts are for and cum," Lando says while picking up his pace sending me into a blissful land where all I can think about in the orgasm that is leaving me shaking on Lando's cock,.

"Oh, fuck," I whine starting to come down from my orgasm but not fully being able to as Lando is still sending brutal thrusts keeping me overstimulated yet still edging towards another orgasm.

"God, you just fucking came and you're already clenching for another," Lando teases out clearly being able to read my body far better than he should be able to.

"Fu-ck n-o Lan," I'm whining and trying to get away but not being able to form full sentences as the pleasure is mounting far too quick.

"Awe did I turn you into a dumb whore norm," Lando says with a smirk before sending down a rough slap right on my clit throwing me straight into another orgasm. I just scream, thankful that none of the other girls were home.

"No," I whisper coming down from my orgasm while Lando is slowing his thrust slightly.

"can't" I whine.

"Speak up and use your fucking words," Lando says clearly getting fed up with the dumb slut under him.

"I can't cum again," I finally force out a sentence once I've come down from the orgasm mostly.

Lando pulls his cock out without saying anything. He leans over placing a soft kiss on my lips throwing me off slightly before he's roughly gripping onto my hair and hauling me off the bed and back onto my knees.

"You know what to do," Is all Lando tells me while he watches me slowly grip onto his dick which is absolutely soaked in my pussy juices before bringing my mouth to his cock.

"Imagine your father saw you now. On your knees like a proper trained slut," Lando says while I start bobbing my head on his dick making sure to take him as deep as I can without gagging too much.

Lando grips the back of my head before he starts to face fuck me. I can feel the tears streaking my face, my spit rolling down my chin and all I can hear is the sound of my gagging and Lando's groaning ringing out through the room and if I'm being honest, I have never been more turned on in my life.

Lando finally releases the grip he has on the back of my head letting me do all the work now. I was thankful as it was becoming increasingly more difficult to breathe.

I pull my mouth off of Lando's cock making sure to keep jerking him off, while looking up at him. He was already staring down at me watching me like a hawk.

"Thank you, Lando," I whisper softly.

"For what," Lando groans clearly getting close to blowing his load so I slow it down slightly wanting him to cum in my mouth.

"Fucking me so good," I whisper while trailing kisses around the lower part of his toned abs and into his trimmed pubes before taking Lando back into my mouth and bobbing my head so rough that I am consistently hitting my gag reflex.

I feel Lando starting to tense letting me know he was close before he gave one final rough thrust into my mouth and held my head there before unleashing his massive load into my mouth and right down my throat.

"Better not waste a drop" Lando groans when he pulls out of my mouth watching me as I swallow his cum. When I'm done swallowing I open my mouth and stick out my tongue showing him I had swallowed it all. Lando just leans down slightly before spitting right into my mouth and walking away to find his clothes.

Once Lando was fully dressed I was already comfortably in bed too exhausted to do anything but melt into my pillow.

"We will do this again," Lando says matter a factly before placing a kiss on my forehead and then lips and walking out of my room presumably to go back to his house.

[vivalabunbun]

Into the Sky of Artificial Stars

Summary: Could a chest that lacks a heartbeat still learn how it would feel? Could the whir of a motor be enough of a substitute?

Word Count: 25k (I will not explain myself)

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Slow burn (oh my), Slow fic (oh boy), SMUT(r18+), NSFW, Researcher!Reader, insomniac!Reader, Android!Alhaitham, Workaholic!Reader, soft!Alhaitham, Modern AU, Android AU, human x android dynamics, Heavy Angst, Fluff, Heavy adult themes, academic trauma, toxic family pressure, toxic academia themes, struggles of poverty and academic inequality, TW: Exploration of grief, death, and guilt, TW: Survivor's guilt and tragedy, exploration of humanity and morality, slight mentions of violence, service top!Alhaitham, test subject to lovers? slightly possessive!Alhaitham? body worship, touch starvation? cunnilingus, he falls hard like a fool, but what is there to catch a fool who tried to reach for an unobtainable star?

Authors Note: This has been in the drafts for a very long time. My first foray into sci-fi kinda? I did my best with jargon and everything, so please forgive any mistakes I've made in regard to the technical stuff. An exploration into an artificial star. Enjoy

Are you just your conscience? 

All the collective thoughts, desires, and ideals that congregate in your mind and influence your every action. Do your thoughts define you?

Are those cognitive functions, formed through a mix of instinct, teachings, and life experiences, what differentiates a man from a featherless biped?

If so, then are algorithms, simulations, and data sets interchangeable with what creates cognitive functions? Theoretically, it gives a machine the ability to develop a conscience. It gives a machine the ability to be human. 

Perhaps, a sterile lab won’t be the most fitting environment to form such a thing.

What if we clothe the machine, provide a roof over its head in a nice quiet house, and feed its mind with the mundane details of existence? Then, could technology bring a machine over the boundary of humanity? 

To engineer a brain, a conscience, a life with bare mortal hands. As if to replicate the gods. To compete with the authority of gods through scientific progression, many warn about the possible repercussions. 

However, if to give and take life is deemed sinful to be done by mortal hands, then what made those unseen gods any different?

Regardless, such philosophical ramblings won’t help you in finishing the half-written report in front of you. 

Looking past the two years' worth of reports sent already, innumerable papers penned by you within the sleep-deprived confines of the Akademiya. With a doctorate framed proudly on bland walls, that should be proof of your ability to type up a simple conclusion, right?

The weighted taps against a backspace key argue otherwise. Frustration leaves your lips in the form of a sigh as you test out a new string of words. Could these few sentences even be comprehensive of the leap in scientific progress made by mankind? 

The shapes of letters merge together, forming incomprehensible blotches of black pixels against the white backdrop. Quickly, your lids shut to offer your eyes some much-needed reprieve from the harsh light of the monitor.

It was quite naive of you to believe subjecting your weary eyes to the punishment of light mode would drive up productivity.

Your fingers remove themselves from the keyboard, perhaps your body’s stubborn protest against sitting at the desk for another minute. Maybe a coffee break is an order. 

You shouldn’t be too harsh on yourself, there hasn’t been a precedent for an experiment like this. A collaboration between the prideful Fontainian Research Institute and the arrogant Kshahrewar Darshan, the first of its kind.

Perhaps the real marvel is how the weight of their combined egos hasn’t sunk this project into the depths of abandonment. 

With a subtle squeak, your office chair rolls back granting you permission to stand up and stretch your weary limbs. Letting out a slight groan as signs of time made themselves known to your bones. The ramifications of your negligence. 

Slow steps pad through the quiet halls, floor boards singing a hymn with your leisurely stride toward the kitchen. As you make your way to the end of the long, empty hallway a silvery hue steals your attention.

Slightly obscured by the oak door frame to your home library stood the culmination of your years of overtime and long nights. A surge of anticipation places a slight weightlessness on your legs.

Approaching the end of the hall where the humble library resides, the oak doorway finally framed him in clear view. 

Structure much more nimble and organic than the gardemeks framework, with materials sourced from the finest suppliers. The most advanced software and artificial intelligence capabilities ever developed since the Akasha.

The first and only of his kind: The Android Alhaitham. 

The said pinnacle of human ingenuity and knowledge is currently flipping through a paperback book as the sunlight illuminates his synthetic skin.

The bounce light made his silver locks glimmer. As your steps slowed to a stop, he took notice of your presence. A soft snap of pages closing resounds through the passive air as Alhaitham turns his focus to you. 

Your gaze ran along the neat spines lining each shelf, a small stack of unsorted books still left by his feet, but this morning there were numerous identical piles littered all over the library.

He seems to not have any issues making progress on his assigned tasks, a great sign. 

You note that his button-down was a different color today, a sign that he’s practicing switching to a new set of clothes regularly.

A sign of routine, developing habits, and showing his steady learning of human behavior. 

The frustrations from an unfinished report fade into obscurity as the subject of your research continues to observe your form. How easy it is to forget the big picture when you stress over the small details.

With this gentle reminder, a soft curl tugs at the corners of your lips. 

Alhaitham repositions his stance, turning his body to face you, you figure he must be anticipating another task from you. Since he seems to be mostly done with his previous one, why not assign a new one?

“Could you brew me a cup of coffee, Alhaitham?” As he processes your request, you inspect his teal eyes, catching the slight glow signaling that his response is ready. 

“I could, but unfortunately the interval of opportunity has already passed.” His baritone voice articulates. 

A subtle quirk made its debut on your brows as your eyes shifted toward a clock hanging up in the corner of the study, its ticking hands displaying the time: 5:15 p.m. 

“Huh… you won’t grant me an extension?” You turn back to him. 

“If you have a request then please state it between my working hours of 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m., you’re always free to submit again tomorrow.” 

He doesn’t budge. An android capable of autonomous training and self-study is different from those gardemeks who only function when given tasks. The ability to develop self-awareness, consciousness, and to think comes with its own caveats.

In Alhaitham’s case, his stubborn nature. Conceivably, he likely reviewed Sumeru’s labor laws and decided that he was entitled to such labor rights as well. 

“I work overtime almost every day for your research and development, but you can’t spare me 15 minutes?” Your lips form a pout, but you already predicted his next output. 

“Your poor work-life balance is not my responsibility.” 

Your prediction was correct. 

Another sigh leaves your lips, it’s just one of the trade-offs you must accept. After all, learning to be a human is the reason why he was created. A feat once thought to be unachievable. But he exists, and he’s developed quite a character. 

To change the trajectory of this conversation you glance at the book held within his hold. 

“Frankenstein by Mary Shelly?” You read the title aloud. 

“Yes, the 1831 edition, it’s quite the story.” Alhaitham opens the covers once more. 

“Mm, maybe I should be more cautious of what information you come across.” A subtle grin tugging at the corners of your lips as his teal eyes land back on you. 

“It’d be a bit of an issue if you were to turn against me from the wrong influences.” Resting your body against the oak doorway as you observe the android process your jest. 

“There are safety restrictions already in place to prevent such occurrences, the possibility is near zero. However, if you are still concerned then feel free to upload a list of banned materials for the next version update.” 

A huff of a chuckle escapes you as you shift more of your weight against the wooden frame. 

“Of course, of course, just remember to place your books back where you found them.” Pushing off the doorway, you allow Alhaitham to continue his unsupervised learning as you amble closer to the kitchen. 

The soft clinking of cups and spoons chime through the evening air as you scoop a few ounces of ground coffee into the brewer.

As the water slowly brings itself to a low rumble, you occupy your wait staring out the glass and at the setting sun. The flaming scarlet hues and warmth blend into mellow indigo as the night begins to reveal her stars. 

Dusk, when the line between day and night blurs to an indistinguishable mess. Would a singularity also look as luminous as the setting sun? The answer might be closer than ever before. 

The reaction to the announcement of an android development project was at first astonishment, that human knowledge had progressed this far. And the secondary reaction that followed like ripples was fear. Fear that humans will soon be replaced by beings of silicon and steel.

That a singularity would signal the end of humanity. 

Well, this was always the common reaction to disruptive change. Many cases of public pushback and hysteria against innovations you can reference throughout history. The human reaction to the unknown. 

They always gossip and fearmonger about an android domination of all of Teyvat. But have those people ever stopped to consider that the android could simply be too lazy to have such ambitions?

Instead of becoming cruel overlords, they’d rather leave books strewn about as they dock themselves into their charging port. 

To learn to be human means to learn human slothfulness too, no? Or maybe Alhaitham’s algorithm just decided to train himself to incorporate it. What a peculiar enigma he is, this android currently residing in your house. 

Your thoughts circle back to a certain novel you haven’t touched in years. A work of science fiction written by a genius author barely over the cusp of adulthood. 

You wonder how she would’ve described this impending singularity. 

A distant toll rang from the depths of a dreamless void, each chime reaching closer and closer until the bright tune devolved into jarring blares. Piercing enough to set your heavy lids into motion.

Just as they peeked open, they flinched back shut from a stray ray that snuck between the gaps of your curtains. 

Your leaden body groans at the brightness of the room, the luminosity much greater than when you had originally settled under the covers. Yet, even with your groggy complaints the alarm resting on the nightstand offered no mercy, continuously bellowing its monotone pitch. 

With a sharp slap, your world returns to its silence. 

Angling the alarm towards you as you creak open one eye, the blurry red pixels slowly merge together to display the time. 

Didn’t you have a meeting scheduled for today? 

Another groan follows your dreadful discovery and you roll back under the plush blanket. Not much different from a child trying to protect themselves from the grasp of a fictitious monster.  

Soft comforters block the morning glow contained behind thick curtains, yet your permission to access a blank serenity was denied. It seems that your quota for sleep has been fulfilled.

Barring you from any excess repose, not that you expected anything less. A monster that torments a young mind might be fictitious, but the realities of capitalistic responsibilities unfortunately aren’t.

Taking in a deep inhale, you prep your body for the next set of dreaded actions with its drowsy limbs. Before it had the chance to protest, you kicked the covers off, ripping away the warm security from your skin. 

Ambling down the hall you gradually made your way into the kitchen, there under the morning light sat a steadfast figure whose eyes never left the book in front of him. 

“Good Morning.” You initiate the first conversation of the day.

“Congratulations.” 

You pause, hand in the midst of rubbing away the tiredness of your eyes. Staring perplexingly at his sudden praise. Alhaitham’s focus remains on his novel even as he answers your unasked question.

“You’ve beat your previous record of how many alarms it takes to get you out of bed, I believe it went off five times this morning.” 

A few beats of uninterrupted silence follow the aftermath of his response. A chain broken by a deep sigh which leaves your body.

“It’s far too early for this, Alhaitham.” Your hand goes back into motion, this time attempting to rub away frustration.

“Spare me your sarcasm until after you’ve made me breakfast and a cup of coffee.” 

From the glance you took at your clock from earlier, it’s currently well into his operational hours.

“Understood.” Setting the book down, his tall frame makes its way into the kitchen. 

Settling down at the lacquered table, your seat grants you a clear view of your android collecting some eggs from the refrigerator. Even as the hands of fatigue beckon your lashes to flutter shut, you refuse to indulge in such luxuries.

You had to watch just in case he decided his book couldn’t wait.

A series of trials and errors already well documented in those weekly reports back to the Akademiya and Institution. A human in training is bound to have some mishaps occur, or more accurately, this android might have different priorities.

One notable case was the time you asked Alhaitham to clean the floors while you attended a conference call. Only to step into puddles of soapy water the moment you leave your office door.

Connecting eyes with teal as he stood in the middle of it all mop in hand. For the time being, you’ve barred him from such tasks. 

Although, you wouldn’t be surprised if he made a mess just as an excuse to sit back on the couch with a book. This fickle android of yours. Your third sigh of the day. 

–-------------------------------------------------------------

The tranquil afternoon interlude that enveloped the house was interrupted by a sharp chime. Glancing at the numbers displayed on the corner of your screen, it looks like it’s right on schedule.

You had just concluded your monthly conference call, it’d be good to stretch your legs a bit after sitting through a few hours of professional formalities. 

Leaving your home office to journey toward the front door, you spot Alhaitham’s frame by the entranceway. His head turns to acknowledge your presence. Passing him to make your way to the front door, you hear him shift closer.

Soon the brilliance of a star pours into the entranceway, illuminating the hall as the door opens.

“Good afternoon, grocery delivery?” The young man on the steps greets, a strain in his polite tone as bags weigh down on his arms. 

“Yes, there was a last-minute addition of henna berries, were you able to get those?”

“Yep, they’re in one of these bags.” 

“Thank you, sorry for the trouble, I’ll take it from here.” You cast a glance over your shoulders back at a tall form standing idly. 

“Please come help with the groceries.” 

“Understood.” It took only a few strides for the burden weighing down on the delivery boy, effortlessly hanging them all on his engineered arms without a hint of strain. 

“Careful, they’re heavy, mister-” The warning dies at the tip of the young man’s tongue as his wide eye reflects the artificial glow of teal irises. 

It’s best to end this trial now, to prevent a commotion or disturbing the delivery boy who isn’t paid enough to be frightened. You could see it in the slight tremble of his agape mouth as his brain processed the thing in front of him. 

“Thank you again, please don’t mind him, have a great day.” Before you could hear his response, the door was shut. 

A bit rude according to societal norms, but you’re sure a generous gratuity bonus paid on top of the delivery fee is enough to stifle any disgruntlement. Considering his reaction, it looks like your hypothesis remains correct.

The people of Teyvat still need more time to adjust to the existence of androids. Just because science progresses, it doesn’t mean human acknowledgment moves at the same rate.  

Turning away from the door, a pair of glass irises connect with yours, a sheen of expectancy just under the brilliant teal hue. Alhaitham stands there with the bags still hanging from his arms. 

“If you already know what I’m about to assign you, then you should just take the initiative, Alhaitham.” You huff. 

“It’s not a bad habit to wait for any specific instructions.” Came his baritone rebuttal.

“Just take those to the kitchen.” 

“Understood.” He pivots away, taking slow steps toward the kitchen. 

“Ah, sort them into the fridge and cupboards too, do not just dump them on the counter.” You warn, learning from your previous mistakes. 

Seriously, Alhaitham has long evolved past needing step-by-step detailed prompts, thus you suspect it's merely an act of his.

You’ve watched his character develop, his habits form, and his routine take shape. Just where did he learn such behavior? This strange android of yours. 

You watch as he carries the numerous bags without a hint of strain. Alhaitham was much better suited for carrying your week’s worth of rations from the market. Unfortunately, he is proprietary technology.

Clearance to allow an android out into the world hasn’t been granted yet. 

Not that you were eager to receive it. The logistics of such an event are a nightmare to plan. The protocols needed in emergencies to ensure the safety of civilians and the millions of mora poured into his creation. 

There’s always a nonzero chance his system gets overloaded from trying to analyze every blurred face in a crowd. A nonzero chance that he would simply wander beyond the merchants and their fruit stalls. A nonzero chance that the gem implanted between his collarbones could spark curiosity. 

Those same curious eyes could catch onto the artificial glow of teal irises, morphing curiosity into terror. 

Even in Fontaine where it was more common for machines to walk among crowds, they were always designed to look like machines. Their clockwork pieces are obvious and distinguishable, a design choice to bring comfort to the mortal psyche.

An easy way for a human to differentiate a person and a thing. If that line becomes blurred, then…

With a deep sigh, you reel your thoughts back from their philosophical journey. Regardless, it’d be a problem for the future to handle.

–-------------------------------------------------------------

Soft clacks resound from the keyboard as a new string of words appears on your screen, documenting the events of the day on your laptop as you sit on your sofa.

The soft cushions are a welcomed change from a stiff office chair. Just over the top of your screen, Alhaitham sat across from an adjacent couch. Methodically folding a basket of laundry and sorting them into piles. 

An easy enough task for him, but as you watch you make sure to note down the improvements in his motor skills and dexterity. Movements organic and fluid, much like those of a human.

It truly is astonishing just how far technology has progressed, from clockwork pieces and clunky steps to the specimen sitting just a few steps away. 

A tall and sturdy frame, well-portioned face with handsome teal irises, and synthetic starlight hair. Features created from the finest equipment and materials, a truly magnificent piece of scientific progress.

Amid your appreciation for his structure, Alhaitham halts all motion, setting down the towel back into the basket. Resulting in your eyebrows creasing together. 

“What’s wrong Alhaitham? Did you forget how to fold a towel?” 

Alhaitham did not attempt to entertain your jest, so much so, that he simply stared past you. Teal eyes honing in on an object just beyond you, never breaking focus to discern the bewilderment on your face.

Finally relenting, you follow his stare toward a clock, reading the time: 5:00 p.m. 

“Seriously? You haven’t finished folding the laundry yet,” you remark in utter exasperation. 

The teal glow of his eyes shows that he’s received your remark, yet he doesn’t make an effort to return a verbal response. He chooses instead to simply continue staring at the time as his hands wait by his side in opposition.

Him staring at a clock, you staring at him, a one-sided showdown. 

A naughty cat prancing about a countertop where it shouldn’t be could simply be picked up and removed.

A disobedient dog dirtying the couch with its muddy paws could be lured off with the sight of a treat.

But an android? What are you going to do to an android whom you had to tilt your head up to make eye contact with? 

This wasn’t a hill you’re willing to die on, thus with a dismissive wave of your hand, you concede. Allowing Alhaitham to do as he pleases, which he graciously does. His form leaves the couch, heading in the predictable direction of the library as a deep sigh leaves you.

This stubborn android of yours, you made sure to document this on today’s report. Just as how it was yesterday, and the day before, and even the day before that. 

Hopefully, in the event of an actual android apocalypse, he might show you the same leniency. You couldn’t help but scoff at your ridiculous musings. A machine with nothing but a motor and battery in his chest, would he understand leniency even if you were to code it into him? 

Soon his frame comes back into view, a pile of books clutched within his hold, just as you predicted. Shamelessly, he sits in the middle of his unfinished chores while leisurely scanning the pages in front of him. 

This fickle, strange, and stubborn android follows the rhythm of his own motor regardless of what protocols you instill.

Yet, as you watch his fingers flip through the worn book and take up space on your couch, a smile develops on your features. A soft curl of your lips, easily obscured by the screen of your laptop. 

A fickle, strange, and stubborn android is not too different from a person, one who had a heartbeat.

An android who takes up space on your couch and house, making it a bit less empty than previously. That was good enough. 

What made man? Intellect? Innovation? Language? 

This was the dilemma assigned to him since the very first time his system powered up in that facility, welcomed into this world by glaring fluorescent lights and the numerous stares of figures in white coats.

A dilemma that follows him even to his current place on a spacious couch.

According to sources pulled from the Akasha and cross-references from numerous printed materials made available to him, many throughout history have been pondering this same conundrum. A philosopher once defined man as featherless bipeds. 

However, wouldn’t this make a plucked chicken a man too? A definition so ambiguous a mere student proved the teacher wrong. 

Then, is man defined by their flesh? Having skin and bones instead of silicon parts and metal components? To have blood pumped by a heart instead of operating off a battery and motor? Was it biology that defined man?

But if that was the simple truth, then why was Frankenstein’s creation addressed as nothing more than a monster?

From his arms to his legs to his mind, everything which made up that creature was human. He had blood, he had flesh, he had bones. So why was he chased away by flaming torches and pitchforks as a mob screamed ‘monster’? Why was a creature made from human flesh not human?

His train of thought halts as a familiar set of steps patter against the floor. Automatically, his sights hone in at the corner of a wall even before your face reveals itself from behind it. 

Teal-colored eyes refocus to catch the subtle perk of your eyebrows and widened eyes. An expression of surprise he analyzes, his immediate focus must have caught you off guard.

Did you have some other test outlined for him? Did you need to collect more data from earlier today? Another household task perhaps? 

How unfortunate, the hour on the clock read half past 8 p.m. Have you not learned from your tardiness the week prior?

“If you have a request, then please wait until 9 a.m. tomorrow when I’m within my business hours.” 

Even with the wall partially obscuring your form, the restrained giggle through lips fighting back a grin was picked up by his audio system. 

“No, no, there’s no more tasks for today.” 

As your gaze centers on him, he takes note of the refractions of fluorescent lights along your irises.

“Then is there something you’d like to discuss?” He prompts. 

“Mm… no, not right now.”

His stone-faced stare was enough of a response, judging by the smile spreading across your features.

“I just felt like checking up on you, after all, you are the most proprietary piece of technology at the moment.” 

At times like these, Alhaitham felt that the audio cue of a sigh was the most effective communication out of all the languages created by man. Muffed chuckles accompany it. 

“I’ll leave you be then.” 

The floorboards trill under your steps as you amble towards the kitchen. Alhaitham returns to the last few pages still left open on his lap. 

Small tinkering from beyond the living room serves as an ambient tune. The swift opening and closing of a refrigerator door. A harsh pull on a microwave door is contrasted by the bright beeps of buttons, leading to a low hum.

He hypothesizes there to be some leftovers spinning around. 

After the microwave sang its concluding chimes, the clatter of a plate follows a firm tug. A drawer rattles open, metal clinking against metal as you sift around for the right utensil. The drawer rattles again as it closes. 

Rhythmic footsteps take center stage as they trail back down an empty hall, Alhaitham waits to hear the resounding click of a door returning to its frame. Just as the final echo of the click sounds out through the air he places the finished novel on the coffee table. 

Leaving the comfort of the cushions, he makes his way to the kitchen to access the aftermath. A microwave door left wide open, a drawer only halfway closed, and of course another dirty coffee mug in the sink. 

Returning the microwave and drawer to their rightful states, his teal eyes count the pile of cups sitting since this morning. A collection that grew throughout the day. 

Alhaitham looks up in the direction of your office. A soft glow leaked out from under the gap of the door, bleeding light into the dim hall. His systems identify the audible taps of a keyboard and the occasional shift of an office chair. He deduces that you were working overtime again. 

He found it a bit ironic at times. A body of mechanical components has no qualms about lounging on a sofa. But you, a creature of flesh and blood, refuse to submit to the allure of rest. Although, Alhaitham wouldn’t find it too implausible that coffee ran through those veins of yours instead. 

Repetitive clacks of keys and mouse clicks play a melody he had heard ever since the first day he opened his eyes.

A tune that accompanies the rhythm of his steps and motions when he goes about his tasks as you document them.

A lullaby that plays after his routine tasks as he heads back to his charging port when you log a daily report. 

An accompaniment to the silent moon and her stars as you stay up at a desk. 

Needing to reach the next exit criteria. Needing to collect the next set of data. Needing to submit the next report. 

Would it be because a body of flesh has agency? With cells in a losing race against time, was there something you wanted to attain within your mortal hands from this research before the race ended?

Or did you just want to fill the vacant lull of this house with those little taps of a keyboard?

Regardless, it’s not within his capacity to disturb your work. Thus all he could do was roll up his sleeves, turn on the running water, and pick up a sponge. Scrubbing the cups with warm soapy water, imitating the motions you’ve shown him before, until the dried stains vanish. 

If it’s not featherlessness, if it’s not bipedalism, and if it’s not flesh… then could it just be agency that made him different from you? 

Maybe he’ll ask you another day, placing the cups into the dish rack. 

Sorting and organizational tasks are his strong suit, in other words, he’s very good at completing easy jobs. Leaving the more… tedious chores to you.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you rest on the handle of the broom. The hallway between your office and the bedrooms is the last section that needs to be swept. 

Alhaitham was likely back in his place on the couch, book in hand as he lounged around. Weren’t androids created in hopes of making life easier?

 So much for that, you internally huffed, repositioning your grip on the broom. A soft but bright clink catches your attention. Glancing down, you quickly discover the source. A ring wrapped around your finger.

Kept on your finger for so long, it’s become almost an extension of yourself, this keepsake piece of jewelry. 

Abandoning the broom against a wall, your other hand fiddles with the gold band. A frown forms upon your lips when a faint scratch shows itself on the gold surface

Gingerly, you remove the ring, pinching it between your fingers as you hold it up to the light, examining the damage closer. The shine of its once-polished surface was dulled by trivial scuffs and dents, damaged by the signs of time.

Regrettably, it seems you’ve been neglecting it as well. 

So much so, that the ring felt compelled to remove itself from your grasp in protest. Slipping out of your tender hold, which propels you into motion, graceless attempts at catching the small piece of jewelry to no avail. 

 It soon collides with the wooden floor as a chime rings out, still, gravity didn’t buy you enough time to catch the evasive gem. For it then decides to run under the gap of a door, disappearing from your sight. Leaving you there in defeat. 

Taking a deep inhale, holding it for a few seconds, you release the air in your lungs. Returning your gaze up from the wood grain, you stare at the obstacle in front of you: a mere door. 

Its brass knob gleams as if to taunt you, daring you to open it, to face what lay beyond. Slowly, you release your clenched fingers, setting your hand back into motion. You’re far too grown to be scared of a room in your own home, especially when you know what is behind it. 

Its hinges ring out in surprise, it’s been a while since they were opened. The daunting door opens up to reveal a lackluster collection of old furniture, picture frames, and various other assortment of items.

Their forms all covered by plain sheets thrown over them, silhouettes, outlined like ghost. A slight tickle appears in your nose from the layers of dust you disturbed. 

A poor, unfortunate room you’ve designated as storage, where items go to be neglected. You were busy enough with work as it is.

To avoid seeing the reminders of responsibilities you’ve been pushing off, you’d rather throw them behind a door. Out of your sight, out of your mind. 

The sooner you find that ring, the sooner you can turn a blind eye to the various items you’ve long abandoned yet refused to let go of. Amongst the dull dust and sheets, it wasn’t very hard to spot the golden glimmer from peaking through. 

Trudging towards the mischievous ring, you kneel to finally catch it within your hand. Such a troublesome thing, you chide as you stand back up. Bracing your other hand on the nearest sheet-covered surface, only for it to come into contact with an odd object.

Startled, you instinctively hold onto both the ring and the odd object as you jolt back up. Glancing down at your hands, your eyes finally identify the object. 

A collection of tiny planets and stars dangling from thin strings glimmered with the soft light creeping in from the afternoon sun. A soft smile made its way to your lips.

How silly it was that a toy made to entertain young infants had you so enraptured. You bought it on a whim, then tossed it into the depths of a dust-covered room. And yet it’s now back in your hands. Perhaps the beckoning of the stars still calls for you. 

A part of you wonders if it was your fascination with the night sky that caused sleep to evade you. Sitting up on a mattress well past bedtime to gaze out to the vast ocean of dazzling and blinking lights that dotted against a navy backdrop. While the pristine radiance of the moon reflected off your irises. 

Or did your fascination develop because it was always the moon and her stars that silently accompanied your long nights?

Gentle lights who lent you their well wishes and encouragement as you anguished through assignments and exams. 

What an honor it was for you to be able to witness her beauty so often. It was a pity that some, who disregarded her grace in favor of dreams, weren’t able to experience the brilliance of a starry night.

Maybe your parents fell in the category of the majority. Maybe that’s why they couldn’t even fathom such a thing. 

A past conversation over an old wooden table started in your mind before you could muster the strength to push it back. 

–----

“C’mon, eat, eat.” Your mother places a hearty serving of Biryani in front of you. 

The old kitchen table groaned under the weight of the spread of dishes on its surface. To call it anything short of a feast would be a lie. The walls of the modest home are filled with a variety of rich aromas and spices. 

“You have to eat to study harder, don’t think just because you made it into the Akademiya you can take it easy now.” Your father remarked. 

“I wouldn’t dare dream of it.” You picked up your fork. 

Letting out a chuckle, he pats your back as a rare smile graced his stern face. Your mother’s face mirrored the same radiance, the beaming glow of pride. For you, their daughter, their only child, and only hope had been accepted into the Akademiya. 

The most prestigious university of all of Sumeru and Teyvat, with millions competing for those few spots each and every year. Only the best of the best, only those who outshone the rest, and only those gifted and blessed would ever be admitted.

Yet, you were sent a letter from the oh-so-grand institution. 

A child from a town far away in the shadows of the grand Akademiya was accepted.

What were the odds of that? For a child whose own parents never got the opportunity for higher education to become the first to go off to university? The cause of this celebratory feast. 

The warm Spring breeze contributed to the sweetness of this small moment in time, as plates were passed and glasses clanked.

All those scattered notes, cramped hands, and revisions have rewarded you with the golden brilliance of sunrise after endlessly long nights. 

A smile crept up the corners of your lips. A light has finally appeared to illuminate this trending path you’ve climbed. 

Your father washed down his previous bite with a sip from his cup, placing it down before he began his next question:

“Have you decided on which Darshan to go into?” 

The sweet breeze turns into a chill down your spine as your fork halts its motion. The dilemma you have been dreading has finally arrived at the kitchen table. 

You had to memorize every mathematical formula. You had to pinpoint every detail in a historical timeline. You had to know every syntax of a sentence. You had to understand the molecular structures of life. 

A child had to learn everything, and now they had to pick something to learn. How would the child know? The child only knew how to study. 

“Amurta? Spantamad? Oh, what about Kshahrewar? I heard that it was also good.” Your mother chimed in. 

“Amurta?” Your father scoffed a bit. 

“Dear, as if this tuition isn’t expensive enough, think of how much med school will cost.” 

“Oh I know, I know, but you know how well doctors get paid! I heard those labs also give a decent salary.” Your mother reasons. 

“Ah, but it takes too long. Engineering isn’t half bad either, there’s been a demand for more engineers recently.” Your father takes another sip of his drink.

“Oh, but it’s not up to us,” she turned to face you. 

“It’s up for our little scholar now isn’t it?” 

A paradoxical question, because your options were already decided for you from the very start.

Carefully selected paths were already laid out before you as your parents watched on with expecting eyes, waiting for your foot to take a step on the path they wanted most. 

Poking at a stray grain of rice on your plate, you gather up the scattered pieces of courage. You were a child who only knew how to study, yet, a child is still susceptible to dreams, no?

“I have thought about it.” You began.

“And?” Your mother couldn’t help but nudge you to continue. 

“I was thinking about Rtawahist,” you confessed. 

It was as if even the sweet Spring air wanted to escape the now-still walls, leaving dread to fill the void it had left. No dishes were passed, no utensils rattled, and no cups clinked. Just bewildered stares you couldn’t bring yourself to answer. 

“Rtawahist? As in the school that looks at the sky?” Your father’s face had returned to its stern default. 

“Astronomy? Yes, that’s the Darshan that studies Astronomy.” Your eyes didn’t dare leave your plate. 

Among the options selected by them from their perceptions of future opportunities and prestige for you. You dare interject with one of your own. 

A deep sigh sealed your fate. 

“Astronomy? You want to study Astronomy? And get what job?” 

The pierce from your father’s harsh tone made you flinch, even though you expected it. 

“You can look at the stars for free, why would I pay to send you to school to study something so useless?”

“There are jobs for Astronomy.” You reasoned. 

“Like what?” His finger drummed against the wood. 

“Like-” 

You made the mistake of looking up from your plate, the fragile wisps of courage dissipated like smoke the moment you did. All the arguments and rebuttals you had prepared vanished along with it. The frown that pulled down your father’s face and the scrunched brow concern of your mother’s were enough to snuff out your pitiful rebellion. 

“Go on.” He challenged. 

“...” 

“That’s what I thought.” Your father snatched up his cup. 

Your focus retreated back to your plate, recentering on the grains of rice you pushed around with the ends of a fork. A motion that continued until another hand stopped yours. 

“Little one…” Your mother began. 

Her thumb traced over your fidgeting hand, a touch which comforted yet scorned you all at once. 

“You know that lady who lived down the street? Her son got a career working with computers and now they live in a big house, doesn’t that sound nice?”

You hummed. 

“Kshahrewar isn’t so bad, right? Just a few years and then you can get a good job.” 

Yes, she had spelled out the purpose of your studies like red-inked corrections on a test. It was how it always was, why did you think it would change now?

Having to prove you deserved the food on the plate in front of you.

Having to bring home top grades to prove all those books and materials were worth it.

Having to get a job that could break this cycle your parents were trapped in. How else would you be able to pay them back? 

It was their mora, earned from long hours and labor, that fed you, clothed you, and sheltered you. They made your world with their calloused hands. It was their justification to command it as well. You were their only child, their only investment. 

This was the dilemma imposed upon you. 

–----

Your fingers clench around the childish imitation of the night sky, running the plastic surfaces under your mindless touch. Thoughts still light years away in the recesses of your memories. 

How silly, for someone who loved the planet and the stars so much how did you forget that one fascinating detail? Planets orbit a sun because of gravity.

It was the force of a greater mass that commanded the lesser, it was what kept a planet going round and round within its grasp. It was the gravity of the sun that gave a planet a direction, a path to follow, a purpose even. 

Perhaps it’s because the sun knew what was best for its little planet.

It was the diplomas framed nicely on a wall that granted you a secure job, it was your cushy job that permitted you to purchase this cushy home. 

Your parents planned this out long ago, thus you merely just followed. 

However, when the sun disappears, when the central mass that gave a small planet a purpose disappears, what would the little planet do? 

Drifting endlessly in a vacuum of nothingness, with no direction, no path, no light. No day or night and an endless Winter, would it be as if the world stopped spinning.

That little planet would be no different than a cold lump of rock in a vast emptiness. 

A sharp creak pierces through the tormentful quietude, a chirr that reels your thoughts back to a dusty room. Head instinctively following the direction of the noise, you fixate on the doorway.

Catching the diffused afternoon sun glimmering in silver locks reminiscent of starlight. 

Alhaitham stands silently at the threshold of the door, its frame perfectly centering him as his teal eyes analyze you. Not a single engineered limb crossed the boundary of the dusty room. Just as it was defined in a set of restrictions implemented into his system by you. 

As evidenced by his unintentional disregard for his environment, the floorboards bearing witness to his careless execution of chores, you restricted him from this decrepit room.

Although all it contains is a chaotic collection of trinkets and keepsakes, the dust-coating provides them with a blanket of security. You saw no reason to change it. 

A telling teal glow blinks momentarily before Alhaitham breaks the lull.

“Are you uncomfortable anywhere?”

It was just now that you noticed the wet trails rolling down your cheeks. Wiping away the cooling dampness on your skin, you confirmed the presence of tears. Your senses took their time returning from their escapade.

Alhaitham remains in his spot, patiently awaiting your next response. How embarrassing it is, to be seen in such a state by a being who could shed no tears. Quickly, you wipe away the trails on your other cheek.

“I’m fine, just lost in thought for a moment.” Swiftly you place the toy down.

A smooth weight encased in the palm of your hand reminds you of the ring, the item that lured you into this dusty room.

Perhaps it should be best to have let it remain undisturbed on your finger. It’s a common wives’ tale that keepsakes ward off bad omens. 

“Is that truly all?” He made a no move, his eyes rescanning the environment as if unconvinced by your answer. 

You wonder if it’s because of some protocol or conditional in his software. Safety measures set in place during this test of whether an artificial being could live in harmony with mortals. 

However, as you gaze upon your magnum opus the specifics of programming and software fade into irrelevancy. Trailing your eyes up from his teal irises to his starlight silver trusses that glimmered in the soft light, revealing a hint of mint. It took you a while to find that exact shade during his manufacturing stage. 

There’s always a chance that a drifting planet could be caught in the orbital pull of another. Whether it be man-made or not didn’t matter.

As long as it was of a significant mass its gravity should be enough to pull a lonely planet from its aimless wanderings. It can set the stray planet into a new orbit, giving it a new path. 

A small lump of rock could find a new star to center around. 

“Yes, I’ll be fine.” 

You will be fine. Slowly, and with one step after another, you will be fine one day. 

The typical 24-hour day for a working adult can be broken down into a set schedule. Waking up at around 8 a.m. to wash one’s face and brush their teeth as they make themselves presentable for work. Followed by a light breakfast or a cup of coffee before. 

Some then start their commute to work or jump onto their desktop to clock in around 9 a.m. to begin their work. In the middle of their shift, usually around noon, they are granted a one-hour lunch break, after that they work until 5 p.m. when they finish their work. 

Coming back home to enjoy dinner around 7 p.m. followed by an hour or two of leisure before a bedtime routine begins. Washing the day's influences off oneself, brushing their teeth, and changing into comfortable attire.

If they want to get a restful 8 hours of sleep they cannot go to bed any later than 10:45 p.m. to account for the 15-minute downtime to allow the body to enter the sleeping state. 

This cycle then resets and repeats just as the sky cycles through the sun and moon. A typical and average reality for most adults in Sumeru. Well, from the data he pulled from the Akasha, this was the typical day for the average working civilian. 

It just so happens that you’re a stray data point skewing the graph.

If he were to estimate your bedtimes from the activity of your desktop and laptop, it would be a chaotic set of timestamps ranging from 2 a.m. to 5 a.m., sometimes the activity on your devices never ceased. An indication of what is referred to as an ‘all-nighter’.

Behavior that might be acceptable for those attending the Akademiya, but certainly not for a working adult. 

At this moment, Alhaitham stood in the hall just a few steps away from your bedroom door. His frame remained motionless to avoid disturbing the floorboards beneath him.

Taking into account your device’s activities, Alhaitham estimates your bedtime was 4: 45 a.m. this morning. Given how your alarm is set to around 8 a.m., amounting to about 3 hours of sleep.

Not even half of the recommended time by Sumeru’s health administration. 

By all means, Alhaitham finds it confounding how you’re still able to perform so efficiently at your job, managing both the Insitute and Akademiya while operating on a few morsels of sleep.

He wonders if that was the reason why you were selected as the personnel who’s facilitating his learning. 

Perhaps, they hoped he’d emulate your work ethic and efficiency. How unfortunate, his self-learning pivoted him away from such conduct. 

As he stands observing the woodgrain of your door, Alhaitham finds himself at a crossroads. It’s not within his capacity to interfere, conditionals coded into his software to prevent him from disrupting your privacy.

Laws mandating the privacy of employees and civilians alike.

Simultaneously, there are protocols instilled in him that instruct him to prevent harm from befalling you. 

A contradiction. Something that would cause a regular system to return an error as it fails to satisfy one conditional while trying to work within the bounds of another. 

Chronic sleep loss results in an increased risk of heart attacks, strokes, and hypertension.

Long-term sleep loss also results in impaired memory and concentration, although it’s not affecting your productivity now, it doesn’t mean it won’t decline soon.

These statistics were all provided by Sumeru’s health administration. 

The effects on the brain are quite severe as well, with increased feelings of stress, anxiety, and depression.

A quiet afternoon scene replays, in a dust-covered room, where he found you staring off at nothing as silent rivulets rolled down your cheeks.

That memory stored within his RAM was enough for Alhaitham to come to his conclusion. 

Alhaitham must act on his own will and deal with anything that appears harmful in his eyes.

To allow you to continue your destructive routine which is proving to be detrimental to your health would be inadvertently allowing harm to befall you. Thus, he decides one conditional must override another. 

Careful to prevent the hinges of your bedroom door from trilling, Alhaitham enters. Analyzing the shape outlined by messy layers of blankets draped over your figure, you must still be in the depths of slumber.

There are about 15 minutes before your first alarm is set to go off, since your commute was a simple walk to your home office, you had the flexibility to sleep through a few grating beeps. 

This habit could use a few improvements. He turns his focus to the thick curtains hiding the room away from the greetings of a morning star.

Sunlight sends a signal to the pituitary gland, calling to suppress melatonin production and increase cortisol production and serotonin.

A natural cue for your body to start, to allow the bright rays to touch your skin would also be good for vitamin production too. 

With a simple tug, the thick drapes were pulled away, granting the rays of the sun to enter and illuminate the still room.

Your body instinctively retreats deeper under the covers, a clear sign that the light is doing its job. He’ll leave the rest up to the alarm impatiently waiting to belt out its chorus of pitches. Just like the shadows slipping away, he exits just as quietly. 

It took only two alarms to get you out of bed and ambling down the hall toward the kitchen. A 60% decrease from when the curtains were shut, however, more trials are needed to conclusively establish a pattern.

His teal gaze follows you as you approach the kitchen. Hands rubbing at your eyes. 

“Why is it so bright?” Your words were groggy. 

“It’s morning,” he answers. 

An unamused glare replaces the fatigue in your expression, Alhaitham deems his response satisfactory. 

After a deep sigh, you shut your eyes again, still trying to adjust to the brightness surrounding you, hands returning to rub at your eyelids.

Excessive rubbing of the eyes isn’t good for them, he notes. However, before he could address it another prompt from you took priority. 

“Did I leave my curtains open last night?” You asked yourself. 

“Coffee?” He interjects. 

Glancing back up at him, you paused for a moment as your groggy mind remembered why you traversed to the kitchen in the first place, diverting your attention away from mysteriously moving drapes. 

“Yes, please make me a cup, Alhaitham.” 

“Understood.”

The android turns toward the marble countertop, preparing the coffee grounds into the machine as you sit at your place at the table.

One day isn’t enough to correct a bad habit, but over time, bit by bit, your schedule will fall into a new rhythm. 

–-------------------------------------------------------------

The cheerful doorbell ring interrupts Alhaitham amidst reorganizing the books on a shelf. Right on schedule.

From just down the hall he hears the knob of your office door turn as it opens, followed by a few cautious steps as you venture closer to the front door. As you pass the doorway of the library, Alhaitham observes the furrow between your brow on your perplexed face. 

“Is there someone at the door?” You turn to him. 

Another ring followed by a few gentle knocks answers your question for him as your head snaps back into the direction of the noise. Crime in this suburban neighborhood is very low, but he does understand why you’d want to be careful.

Perhaps, he should accompany you to ease your nerves over the sudden ring from the door. 

With an android just behind you, you had finally mustered up the courage to answer the daunting door under his teal supervision. 

“Hello, delivery from Lambad’s Tavern, paid online.” 

“Huh?-” 

“One order of Minty Bean Soup, one order of butter chicken, and one rose custard?” The delivery man interrupts your confusion as he lists off your entrees. 

“Yes…” you reply as you cast a glance back at an idle android. 

The entrees listed were all dishes you asked him to make you for lunch a few hours earlier. Judging by the suspicion upon your furrowed brows, he could tell that you noticed as well. However, with a delivery man holding out the takeout bag on the front steps. It’d be rude to just have him remain there, no? 

“Enjoy your meal!” He announces as he hands over the bag into your arms. 

“Yes, thank you.” You close the door, spinning around almost instantly to confront the android with the bag still in hand. 

“Did you order this?”

“Yes.” 

“Again? I asked you to make food, not order it,” you tsk. 

“I did it to optimize my time.” Crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

“All you have to do is heat up the frozen meals.” 

“Then according to protocol, I’d have to stay in the kitchen to watch over the oven and stove, not to mention the dishes I’d have to wash afterward. So ordering takeout would save time as well as not prevent me from my task of organizing-”

“Okay, okay. I get it.” You concede with a sigh. 

Taking a few steps past him towards the direction of the kitchen before you pause midstep to turn back to him. 

“Do not use your funds to order weird things off the internet.” You warn before promptly continuing on your way to have your late lunch. 

“Understood.” 

Just as he suspected, there isn’t a problem that can’t be helped with a bit of mora. If Alhaitham were to follow your request as you instructed, he knew that the reheated meal would turn cold as it sits abandoned on the kitchen table.

Even when he informs you of his task’s completion, you’d push back your lunchtime until you needed another dose of caffeine. 

However, a simple ring of a doorbell could do what he can’t. Drawing your attention and body away from the confines of your desk. An efficient reminder to have your meals at a regular time if he says so himself.

Besides, fresh ingredients are better than frozen meals in terms of nutrients. 

–-------------------------------------------------------------

The sun had long retreated into a navy blanket of the night, allowing the moon to take its place in the sky. Serene beauty watching over the nighttime bustle of Sumeru city slowly peters out, and many return to their homes at the beck and call of slumber. 

Alhaitham settled himself upon his spot on the couch, a lamp just off to the side illuminating the pages of his book softly. The quiet lull of the living room periodically broken by the crisp turn of a page.

The typical rhythm that resonates through the house around this hour. His acute senses pick up a frustrated pair of steps pattering closer. 

Ah, yes a new accompaniment has jumped this evening's tempo. 

“Is the router having issues again?” You groan as your frame appears from around the corner. 

Casting a halfhearted glance off to where said device sat on a side table, his teal eyes return to his book. 

“The light shows that it’s online.” 

“Then why is it taking forever to upload a simple file? It’s been five minutes and it’s not even halfway done.” You took quick strides past his idle frame. 

Crouching down to be at eye level with the device in question. Unplugging the power cord from its back and then sticking it back. Eyes studying the blinking lights as the router reboots and reconnects to the internet.

Pulling out your phone, you sigh as you try to load up a webpage only to be met by a spinning circle of contemplation. 

“Network providers tend to have slowdowns this late at night, some say it's due to bandwidth congestion while others argue that they do it to cut costs,” Alhaitham states, teal eyes honed in onto the text as to avoid your pouting glare. 

“Very helpful, Alhaitham.” Another sigh leaves you as you stand back up. 

He spoke the technical truth, those companies do tend to slow down their networks at night to save on some operational costs.

However, in this case, it was the former that was causing your device’s screens to perpetually stay in loading. Activities such as streaming videos, music, or downloading files take up the most bandwidth.

Alhaitham simply wanted to download some digital copies of recent scientific journals, and maybe a few songs here and there as well. All done simultaneously which led to some congestion.

How unfortunate. 

“This has been happening for the past month now, I should call the network provider, it’s driving me up a wall.” Another groan of frustration. 

His teal eyes follow your figure from behind the tops of his book, watching you rub your temples as if to expel the exasperation from your body with each mumble that leaves your lips. 

“The internet’s so slow I can’t even connect to the Akasha’s databases, that file is still uploading, what should I do in the meantime?”

His hearing was able to pick up each syllable uttered from under your exhausted breath. He shifts his focus momentarily toward the clock just across the room, reading: 10:00 p.m. Since you asked, it’s only right that he responds with his input. 

“It’s an issue beyond your control, the best option to utilize your time at this moment would be to get an adequate amount of rest.” 

This time it was your turn to respond to him with a deadpan stare, clearly unamused by his suggestion. 

“I want to analyze a few more datasets.”

“Missing a few hours of overtime won’t have any determinate effects on your productivity or livelihood.” 

“This is for the sake of your development, Alhaitham.” You sigh as if your statement would mystically change his rationale. 

“The short-term gratification you’ll get from sacrificing your rest for a few revelations isn’t worth the long-term ramifications of your health.” He bluntly discloses. 

Silence fills the room once more, but something odd seems to have mingled with the serenity of the air. This strange inclusion prompts Alhaitham to finally turn away from the pages, connecting his gaze with yours. 

“Was my response unsatisfactory?” He studies your expression, and rather than furrowed brows, he finds a soft roundness to your eyes. 

Him staring at you, you staring at him. A scene that continued for a few beats more before you were the first to break the stalemate. 

“No, not at all… it’s just very reminiscent of something I’ve heard before…” You turn away as his gaze follows. 

A few slow strides take you back to the corner, figure just about to disappear into the shadows engulfing the halls before you abruptly turn around. 

“Goodnight, Alhaitham.”

“Goodnight.” He mirrors. 

Alhaitham marks today as another successful trail of correcting a bad routine. 

–-------------------------------------------------------------

Adequate amounts of sunlight, regular meals, and coffee grounds mysteriously find themselves placed on the highest shelf in the cabinets. All the factors were in place to regulate a disastrous sleep schedule. 

Yet when Alhaitham checks your device activity, the data points remain scattered about the twilight hours of the morning. A true paradox.

Amongst the Summer afternoon rays seeping in through the windows, Alhaitham was tasked with tidying up the kitchen. An obscure cabinet in a corner was the last section before he could deem the request complete. 

There wasn’t anything in particular about the cabinet, it’s space housing an assortment of various vitamins. That was until his hand brushed against a plastic container which didn’t conform to the typical shape of vitamin bottles. 

Grasping it within his hand, he pulls the irregular bottle out from the murky depths of a cabinet and out into the sunlight where its identity unravels: a prescription bottle.

Barbiturates sedatives, colloquially referred to as sleeping pills, are used in treatments for insomnia. 

It looks like Alhaitham has stumbled upon the answer to the paradox printed on the faded label of a neglected bottle. 

Frankly, this revelation wasn’t all that surprising. He had long suspected it from the symptoms and behaviors you display daily. But it’s always good to support a hypothesis with evidence. 

Studying the container in his hand further, his gaze narrows as it hones in a corner of the label. In particular, the date printed along it. This bottle expired two years ago. 

It’s recommended that every civilian visits the Bimarstan annually for a checkup, in a nation where healthcare is free and accessible, this typically isn’t an issue.

Once more, you stood alone as a data point outside of the cluster. 

Stepping into the living room, he finds you tinkering with the network router again. A few more steps and then he was by your side. 

“When was your last medical check-up?” Cycling through his memory, Alhaitham failed to recall the last time you had a medical assessment.

Your body halts momentarily, before glancing up at his beryl eyes.

“I’m relatively healthy, there’s no reason for an assessment.” 

“The Department of Health recommends annual checkups at the very least.” 

“I don’t need to go to the Bimarstan,” you declare. 

A weight pulled down at the corners of his lips, creating what is called a frown. An expression he observed many times upon your lips whenever you label him as ‘stubborn’. He might finally grasp why you do such a thing.

Stubbornness isn’t such a good trait when you’re on the other side of it. Fortunately, he anticipated this. 

“In accordance with the law, you do.” The contents of the plastic bottle rattle as he reveals it, drawing your gaze toward it. 

“The regulation behind your prescription requires that all expired medication be brought back to the Bimarstan for proper disposal.” Denunciation behind his glass irises. 

Lips pressing into a thin line, you advert your eyes back to the blinking router in front of you. Each second of silence announces your defeat.

Human actions are limited by a set of laws and they must operate within the bounds, not too different from restrictions imposed on machines.

The consequences looming just a step away discourage most mortals from crossing the threshold. 

“I’ll schedule an appointment for noon next week, making use of your saved paid time off is recommended, does that work?” He prompts. 

“Alright.” 

A weight is alleviated from his lips, triggering the corners to curl upwards. A common response to the accomplishment of a challenge, he understands now why a mortal body does it. 

Perhaps a doctor's visit has been long overdue, foggy recollections of if the curtains were shut the night before and if a bag of coffee was accidentally misplaced. Poor memory is one of the repercussions of sleep deprivation, you’re aware of this fact. 

Healthcare in Sumeru is highly accredited for its accessibility and quality, the Bimarstan being the standard many hospitals around Teyvat strive to be. To have such a thing so accessible to you, it’s baffling to many how you failed to utilize such privilege.

You had your reasons. 

Many of these prominent doctors and diligent nurses were once classmates. A few vaguely familiar faces from across a lecture hall of some general course.

Faces you’ve passed slumped over textbooks and piles of notes in the late hours of the House of Daena, their dark circles matching yours.

Faces that graduated alongside you as celebratory cheers rang out with caps littering the air.

It’d be strange to meet someone you attended the Akademiya with once again in an examination room. 

After their years of medical school and surviving residency, you’re certain they’re more than qualified at their jobs. However, it doesn’t change the course of averted eyes and superficial pleasantries.

You breathe out a deep sigh as the receptionist calls out for you, informing you that you could head down to a private room. 

Leaving your seat in the waiting room, you do as the receptionist instructs, exiting the lively environment into a placid hallway. The receptionist’s face didn’t evoke any familiarity, nor did the doctor’s name listed on your appointment.

Many of these prominent doctors and diligent nurses were once classmates, but not all. 

Candidly, there’s only one classmate who you’d avert paths with within this establishment. In a hospital as large as the Bimarstan, the average number of staff ranges from around 5,000.

The odds of encountering a particular face out of a pool of thousands is nonzero. 

A polite knock draws you from your thoughts, your eyes travel toward the door of the private room you entered not too long ago as the handle slowly turns. Thick oak swinging ajar to reveal the figure on the other side. 

“Good afternoon, I’m Dr. Rana, I’ll be taking care of you today.” 

You return her greeting with a courteous smile and nod, statistics in your favor, the odds were nonzero but still a minuscule likelihood. 

The checkup was rather uneventful, a few questions were asked as she pulled up your medical records. You pulled out the expired medication for her to examine and deal with.

Vitals checked and documented as the appointment drew to a close, a notepad and pen in her hands as she turned to you. 

“Overall your health seems fine, although…” she trails off.

You could feel the weight of her stare upon the discoloration ever-present under your eyes, no layer of concealer to cover them. You could already guess her next sentence. 

“Would you like a refill of your prescription?”

“No, it’s fine.” It’d just be another bottle to be neglected in the back of a cabinet. 

“I see…” This time her eyes move back and forth between your sitting figure and a clock hanging in its place on a wall. 

“I… have to process some paperwork, could you wait here for a few minutes?” A polite smile graced her lips. 

“Of course.” You mimic her actions. 

A day requested off to account for a drawn-out appointment, to account for a scenario like this his foresight analysis is making great progress.

You should take note of that once you return home, a daily log still needs to be updated to track consistent progress after all. It’s technically your day off, but you’re free to decide what to do with it.

As you pondered a checklist to complete once you got in front of your desk the door creaks open. 

“Oh? That was fast, Dr. Rana-” The sentence dying upon the tip of your tongue as your lips press into a firm line. 

The odds of encountering one familiar face out of a pool of thousands is a small nonzero number, however, if that number was increased to three faces out of those thousands, the chances increase.

How unfortunate, even with such small odds, you managed to come face-to-face with the three people you wanted to avoid the most. 

They file into the room and the last one closes the door behind himself as your eyes scan over them. Starting with the ebony-haired man in the center, Tighnari, a doctor at the Bimarstan. It makes sense for a doctor to be in a hospital on this fine day, but not for a lawyer, or an architect.

Four former classmates gathered in an examination room, how strange. 

Still, you’ve grown enough to adapt to such peculiar situations. Practiced corporate smiles and pleasantries to navigate this stagnant air. 

“Cyno, Tighnari, Kaveh, it’s a surprise to see you all here. It’s been a while.” 

“A while is a bit of an understatement…” Kaveh is the first of the trio to converse, offering you a small smile. 

You return it with one that didn’t reach your eyes. The rhythmic ticks of a clock fill the silence, shifting eyes anticipating and preparing for the next phase of this impromptu reunion. The doctor finally decides to speak up. 

“You haven’t been sleeping enough, have you.” Tighnari examining your under eyes. 

“I never sleep enough, you know that.” Of course you never slept enough.

How could you sleep when the threat of falling behind the geniuses sitting around a library table was always looming over you? Geniuses who easily grasp the concepts and theories that elude you. How could you lay in bed when you had to catch up to them? 

“So, why this sudden get-together?” Impatience rising inside you with each passing tick of the clock. 

Dropping the formalities and social pleasantries, you watch as another round of shifting eyes passes. You already had an inkling of the answer they’re still hesitating to address. Finally, your former Kshahrewar senior responds for the group. 

“We’re worried about you, you haven’t been in contact for a while now.” Kaveh’s voice was low and mellow, you could tell he took extra effort in marking it such. 

The same low and mellow tone he’d speak to you with as he tried to explain your mistakes on an exam, the tone which accompanied the pity in his gaze toward you as he pointed out each miscalculation on your paper. The tone made you ball your fist up on your lap.

“I’m fine, just busy.” 

“Please don’t start with that again.” The blond sighs, sympathy still ever-present in his eyes. 

“I’m just busy with work, as are all of you, we’re no longer students with minimal responsibilities,” you retort. 

The days when a group of friends could gather around a table for hours on end, half bantering and half studying, basking in the Spring warmth streaming in from the grand windows of the House of Daena have long passed. 

“We all have busy careers, that’s true, but not to the extent of being a detriment to our health.” With a sigh, Tighnari began his health lecture. 

Expounding upon the negative consequences of a poor work-life balance. Shifting your focus instead on tuning out this lecture you didn’t sign up for. 

“You stopped listening… of course,” a deep sigh concludes the doctor’s sermon. 

Ah, you’ve been found out. The polite smile straining itself upon your lips, legs itching to walk out of this restrictive space. 

“Here, it’s a contact of mine, I recommend you give her a call-” 

“It’s fine.” You promptly push away the business card just as Tighnari presents it to you, a thread of patience stretched thinly. 

“She can help you through-” he continues. 

“It’s fine, my research is just busy-”

“This isn’t healthy.” 

“It’s my research.” A sharp undertone leaks through your professional demeanor. 

“And this is why we’re worried about you!” Kaveh’s patience was the first snap. 

Then again, your senior might have been the light of Kshahrewar and a praised genius, but he was never the best at handling his emotional regulation. 

“Look around, don’t you see how concerned we are about you? No returned texts or calls and no answers at a doorbell for years, only ever talking about this research. It’s as if you-” he stops himself, rudy eyes meeting with your cold stare. 

He knew better than to finish that sentence, you knew that he knew he shouldn’t. 

“We’re worried about you, this research… it’s not good for you.” Tighnari interjects, attempting to shift the course of this intervention. 

Of course, when the development of an android was announced, there wasn’t just discourse amongst the general public, but debates raged throughout academia as well. How unfortunate it is that friends now stand at polar ends. 

“It’s my research,” you reaffirm. 

This research was why you got your doctorate, it’s why you have a job, it’s why you have a house. This research has entangled itself into the very fibers of your life. It was where a predetermined path had led you. 

The room fills once more with a lull, nothing but deep sighs and ever-shifting eyes. Neither side is able to get through to the other. Typical of most academic debates. Still, it seems they weren’t ready to end the intervention so soon. 

“Listen… we’re worried for you, I… I know it’s been very difficult these past years.” Your senior takes a step closer. 

That same sympathetic timbre brings a vile taste to your tongue. You stay silent in favor of pushing the bitterness down as it tries to claw its way through your polite façade.

“I… know what it must have been like for you, It’s been hard on all of us. I’ve experienced something similar, so I can tell you-”

“I’m sorry, Kaveh. But tragedies shouldn’t be compared, because they’ll never have a fair comparison.” You end the conversation. 

Just like how it isn’t fair to compare stars who were their own centers of gravity with a mere rock at the mercy of an orbital pull to give it direction. 

Even when you sat at the same table as them, you were never at the same level as them. Families with academic prestige, minds blessed with wisdom, and the freedom to pursue a self-chosen path. You could only ever look up at what you lacked.

“Your worlds kept on spinning, your lives move on with the change of the season. But not mine, mine stopped long ago.” It’s not fair to compare a rock to a star, from their silence, you assume they knew that too. 

“I’m now taking the initiative to make it start again, don’t interfere.” Your valediction to the geniuses whom you couldn’t live up to. 

It’s just the nature of this world, geniuses walked their own paths while others took another. Geniuses can’t understand those others, just as others can’t understand geniuses.

This doctor’s appointment has gone on for long enough. Gathering your belongings, you stride past them, eyes refusing to meet.

Your hand pried open the door, pausing just at the threshold as Cyno finally breaks his silence. 

“Is this truly what you want? To defy the edicts of finality with research?”

Ah, what an inquiry. Perhaps it’s just like a lawyer to ask such a thing. 

“Is my research in violation of any laws in Sumeru?” You refuse to meet his scarlet condemnation. 

“As of now, no.”

“Then I don’t see how this involves you, there’s no place for personal biases and mortals in the judicial system.” Crossing the threshold, the door creaks close behind you as hurried steps echo through the sterile hall. 

This was a mistake, you should’ve never come here. Your body was fine, your vitals are fine, you’re fine. There wasn’t a point in wasting time here, you needed to leave this place filled with faces offering you condolences. Exiting the narrow hall back into the dim murmurs that fill the waiting room, the last thread of patience starts to splinter. 

From the muddled chatter, a bright shrill rang above them all. Interrupting your contemplation as your eyes impulsively search for the source. Even in a sea of passing faces and colors, it didn’t take you long to find it. 

A young girl grins a smile with a few gaps as she stretches her arms out to her sides, mimicking an airplane. A young father helpless to his daughter’s giggles, hands secured around her legs as he lets her soar on his shoulders. Next to his side was a giggling mother, watching with amusement and endearment. 

A private moment hidden amongst the waiting room, you look away. You should return to the private walls of your house before that thread inevitably breaks. Sliding glass doors part to grant you exit from this suffocating cage.

Like a speck of dust drifting in the breeze, you disappear into the bustling crowd of Sumeru City. The push and pull of strangers further you along your route, even as your mind drifts off. 

With modern advancements in aerospace engineering, the chances of a plane crashing have decreased significantly, with recent statistics citing only 1 in about 11 million. A 0.00001% chance, a nonzero chance.

How long ago since the last time you’ve been inside an airport? What were your last memories of an airport? Do you remember?

–----

“Are you sure you can’t come with us?” Your mother’s thumb traced over your hand. 

“It’s a bit too late for me to pack, we’re already at the airport, Mom.” 

“Don’t you want to visit Fontaine? Didn’t you say they had really advanced things there?” She didn’t let go of your hand. 

“I’m busy with my thesis.” You were still in the midst of getting a Ph.D., the very thing they demanded of you. 

“But I planned this trip so we could spend time together.” Your mother tried to get you to meet her gaze.

You adverted your eyes. So this is how they spent their recent financial flexibility. With a scholarship and research-assistant salary, you had enough to cover the tuition by yourself, relieving your parents of that burden. But to get that scholarship and salary, you had to pay with your time. 

“I’m busy, mom.” You freed your hand from her grasp. 

“But-”

“Stop it dear, she’s not going to change her mind.” Your father’s gruff voice stopped your mother. 

“There’s no point in trying to change the mind of an ungrateful child.” 

You felt the weight of his disappointed stare upon you, a frown formed on your lips as they pressed together. This was a sudden trip announced to you just a few days prior, you didn’t have time to accompany them. But they didn’t seem to care.

Of course they didn’t. Your parents only ever saw the grades, the diplomas, the results. But they never bothered to see the anguish you endured to give it to them. 

“Enjoy your trip.” Words barely passed your clenched teeth as you turned around and walked away. 

An ungrateful planet ignored the calls from their mother in their first successful act of defiance. Trying to break away from their gravitational pull. 

–----

That was your last memory of the airport.

Those were the last memories two parents had of their child.

The child they sacrificed their time, labor, and freedom to build a better life for. Your parent’s last memories were that of an ungrateful child, maybe it was the last scene they thought of as a plane was swallowed by the salty depths. 

Humans, defined by their curiosity, will always yearn to reach as high as they can. Tales warning those to never fly too close to the ever-bright star ignored in the pursuit of radiant curiosity. Your parents were no different. 

They ever had the chance to travel, too busy trying to provide food in front of you. So when the burdening weight was lifted, naturally they wanted to stretch their wings to see the views they never got to in their youth. They always wanted to touch the sky, to reach for the moon.

There’s a proverb often told to young minds: ‘Shoot for the moon, even if you fall, you can still land on a star’. 

This saying is riddled with inaccuracies. The stars are much further away than the serene moon. Beckoning the curious eyes to look at them, for curious hands to yearn for them. 

But once the glue on those wings are melted away by selfish rays, what is there to catch them besides the cold unfeeling ocean? Did they sink from the memories of an ungrateful child weighing on them? 

You should’ve been on that plane. 

The familiar features of your neighborhood come into view, the doors of your house are just ahead. Just hold on, don’t let that thread snap just yet, just a few more steps. 

Tighnari had his father and mother working right alongside him at the Bimarstan.

Cyno had regular visits to his adoptive father, and sometimes his adoptive sister Lisa visits too.

Kaveh had reconnected with his mother overseas, now having a few younger half-siblings who jump to greet him every time he visits.

Lives still spinning and warm in the light of their brilliance. What do you have? 

A job in a career picked out for you. Paychecks rotting in a bank account with no one to pay back. A spacious and hallow house with no one to reside in its empty walls, only displaying a doctorate you loathed.

A stray rock who lost her stars. Wandering without their gravitational pull in the vacuum of a lonely darkness. Just what do you have?

“Alhaitham,” you call out just as the front door slams behind you. 

You could hear his steady steps approaching along the wooden floor, but it’s too slow so your frenzied steps close in the distance between your two forms. The thread gives in and snapping as the recoil proliferates through your body. 

Without a greeting, no prompt, or prior warning your grasp wrinkles his once pristine button-down.

The bitter tears you held back now soak into the fabric as even viler cries choke your voice. The shame of displaying such a sight in front of a being whose eyes don’t produce moisture is long abandoned. In the walls of this hallow house, your broken sobs echo off. 

He stands still in the middle of the hall, the low hum of his motor resonating in your ears as you hide your face deeper into the synthetic skin of his chest. But that’s fine, the whir of motor is enough of a substitute for a heartbeat. 

Alhaitham stands in front of the reflection staring back at him, he had undocked himself from the charging port not too long ago. Tracing over the synthetic material stretched over his imitation of a collarbone as his mind wanders.

There aren’t enough chemicals in tears to make them corrosive, nor were they at the temperature to boil.

So why does it burn?

Trailing his fingertips where your tears soaked onto his skin, recollections of the searing sensation that afflicted the area with each sorrowful drop. Choking sobs which he caused. 

He failed to consider all causal factors to assess the situation fully and failed to appraise all possible alternatives. He failed to make the right decision, and he let harm befall you because of it. It’s strange, there’s nothing wrong with his eyes, yet he finds it hard to look in the mirror. 

Teal gaze scrutinizes the arms, legs, and body in the reflection. The reflection in front of him had all the identifiable components of a man, but they’re all synthetic.

From the tips of his sliver hair to the vast expanse of his skin, they’re all made from high-quality silicon parts supported by a metal frame. An engineered body with a motor in place of a heart. 

Maybe that’s why he failed to make the right decision, he had no heart to weigh in on the ruling. 

–-------------------------------------------------------------

The android is faced with a new dilemma. 

 From the entrance of the kitchen, Alhaitham watches you. A spoon absentmindedly swirling in the cup of coffee on the counter in front of you. Your thoughts wander elsewhere, the rays of a setting sun unable to light up dull spaced-out eyes.

He’s observed your condition for the past week, no hint of improvement. 

A new dilemma he must decipher, the urgency rising with each passing second as the spoon continues. 

The lull of the evening air was shattered by the sound of a porcelain cup meeting the tiled floor. Jagged pieces and coffee spilled all along the cold surface. Listlessly your eyes move to access the mess on the floor, spoon still grasped in your hand. 

“Ah.” That was all your lips could say. 

Limbs slowed with lethargy, you crouch down closer to the broken pieces scattered about. Bare hand reaching out to grab the sharp edges unthinkingly. A firm grasp prevents your touch from the ragged porcelain. 

“It’s dangerous, I’ll handle it.” Alhaitham brings your hand further away from the hazard. 

Your aloof eyes trail past him toward a wall where he could hear a clock tick before they returned to his resolute stare. 

“It’s past 5 p.m.” 

“A hazard has appeared in the environment, it’s protocol that I clear it.” His rehearsed response. 

“Oh… alright.” Limplessness returning to your wrist within his hold, body too lethargic to object. 

With you seated at the kitchen table away from the jagged edges that could potentially pierce your skin, Alhaitham begins gathering the pieces. As your aloof eyes wander about the monitor of your laptop, his mind ponders a dilemma. 

It’s often said that guilt is held in the heart. In novels and human anecdotes, it's been described to him as a burdensome heaviness that sinks the heart.

A sensation reminiscent of drowning in icy water. A sensation only perceivable through a beating mortal heart. 

Alhaitham is an android, he’s aware of this. A being with silicon skin encasing a metal frame. A motor in place of where a mortal heart would be.

So what is this weight burdening his chest? 

An internal diagnostic returned no errors and no reports of any damage or unusual occurrence within his systems. Yet, a heaviness brewed deep inside his chest, its mass increasing each sunrise and fall, with every passing moment the riddle was left unanswered. 

How could a motor hold guilt? How could the weight of judgment manifest itself in the absence of an organic heart that beats instead of whirs? How could an inorganic object possibly suffer guilt?

All the mora poured into his creation, all the hours of research contributed to his algorithms, and all the texts he’s scanned through were all for naught. The pinnacle of scientific and mechanical development couldn’t solve a simple conundrum.

The floorboard creaks under the weight of his steady strides as he moves about the corridor, the soft swishes of a broom coinciding with each step.

Dust had begun to settle in the crevices of the home, it’s about time that he took up the mantle that was supposed to be his. 

Could an explanation of this weight be the backlog of tasks and responsibilities he had pushed off? Chores he ignored in favor of browsing the contents of a library? A burden he selfishly passed onto your shoulders.

Maybe after he completes the tasks that were supposed to be assigned to him he could clear the cache, then this weight in his chest would subside. 

The bristles of the broom scratch against a door, the light force setting the frame ajar further. Revealing the dust-coated scene in front of him. A boundary he was restricted from.

Alhaitham concluded that this small corner of the house must hold some sentimental value to you, thus it’s best for him to not disturb it. 

Just as he goes to close the door, Alhaitham scans around the environment identifying the shape of a journal tucked away under an old table.

He’s not permitted to enter, but all books belong in the library. Spines sorted along wooden selves, not on a dusty floor.

An exception shall be granted, setting aside the broom, he steps in to collect the neglected book. 

While crouching down and gathering the covers into his hold, a different gleam catches his eye. The light reflects off its glass surface and highlights the dust particles dancing in the still air.

With his free hand, he picks it up, teal eyes running along the glass orb. After a moment of processing the object, he successfully identifies it as a toy.

A popular model to display an artificial starry night among blank walls. Alhaitham turns to follow a trail of cut-out stars pasted all along the walls. The soft glow of their plastic shapes subdued by the brilliance of the afternoon sun streaming in. 

Were you interested in stars? Glancing out the window, he discerns the murky shapes of buildings in Sumeru City off in the distance. 

This house is located in the suburbs away from the noisy clammer of the city streets and traffic. However, where the sound waves couldn’t travel didn’t mean the sky around this quiet neighborhood was uncontaminated by activities in the city.

When the sun retreats away for rest, the city doesn’t follow suit.

Through the power of fluorescent lights in street lamps and office buildings, humans created their own artificial daylight to continue the bustle of their lives. Light which polluted the night sky and stole the radiance away from her stars. 

Unable to enjoy the natural tapestry of the night, did you substitute the company of stars with toy imitations?

Turning the orb in his hand, his eyes notice the signs of damage along the projector. Perhaps that’s why it sat abandoned in this room.

He’s stayed in this restricted space long enough. Carefully closing the door behind him, hands still full. 

–-------------------------------------------------------------

“I’ve uncovered a strange object, my software isn’t able to identify it.” Alhaitham stands just outside the open office door. 

Sparing him a glance away from your monitor, your brows pinched together in confusion at his sudden report during the late hours of the night. 

“A strange object?” You inquire again. 

“Yes, I’ve scanned over it a few times but no results are returning.” 

“Huh…” 

Teals watching you press a finger against your pursed lips in concentration. A habit of yours often displayed when amid contemplation. After a few breaths, your eyes meet his as you give your reply. 

“Well, where is this object?” 

“Come with me.” 

Along the wooden floor, two pairs of steps tap rhythmically in time with one another as they traverse the hallway stopping at the living room where the mysterious object resides.

Approaching the coffee table in the center, Alhaitham steps to the side to present it as it sits upon the polished surface. 

“This… is what’s been giving your software issues?” The quirk returned to your brow as you cast him a glance. 

Alhaitham simply nobs as you approach the object closer. Kneeling beside it, your eyes examine the familiar device. 

“It’s a planetarium projector, it projects the scene of a night sky, in other words: just a toy.” 

He hums in acknowledgment, carefully treading toward the light switch in the corner as the toy holds the gaze of your eyes. 

“It should be thrown away… It’s broken after all.” Your tone dismissive, yet your hand caresses the broken toy with tenderness. 

“It’s not,” he replies. 

Perking your head up, you turn to face him with that same furrow between your brows. 

“What do you mean, Alhaitham-”

He flicks the switch, plunging the room in a blanket of darkness earning a squeak of surprise from you. The device whirs as it awakens, painting the blank tapestry with a scene of the night sky with its shimmering lights.

The vibrant shapes of stars and planets take their place along the living room wall, creating a private galaxy that surrounds you. 

Your sentence remains unfinished upon your tongue as your eyes take in the display encompassing you. The nostalgic glimmer of the night and her stars twinkle in the reflection of your irises as he settles down beside you. 

“Did… did you fix it?”

He hums in response. 

It only took a bit of study and careful tinkering to restore the worn pieces and gears. A simple effort was all it took to allow the projector to shine its recreation of the stars. Returning a light that he hasn’t seen in a while. 

“Thank you, Alhaitham,” you breathe out, lips curling up softly and eyes still enraptured by the stars. 

He doesn’t respond this time as his teal gaze focuses on your expression, on the smile that’s been missing for some time. It’s strange, this sensation manifesting in his chest. He thought if he was able to restore the light to your eyes, then that heaviness brewed deep inside his chest would clear. But it remained. 

His system unable to express nor suppress the heaviness which bubbled up like seafoam rising to the surface.

The sensation was different than it was before. Instead of a mass that weighed him down to the bottom of a cold depth, it was more reminiscent of a warm ebb. Washing over every limb of his as he studied the curvature of your lips and the glimmer of your eyes. 

Another internal diagnostic wasn’t necessary, for Alhaitham had reached his epiphany to a conundrum. An engineered body may lack a heart, but not a conscious.

A consciousness that acts like a vessel collecting the accumulation of that heaviness. A heaviness that couldn’t be called ‘guilt’. 

No, perhaps it has always been something other than ‘guilt’.

It only took until the vessel overflowed for an engineered body to recognize it for what it truly was.

There’s something strange happening to your Android. Reviewing the diagnostic reports of his systems returned nothing out of the ordinary. So why did you suspect something to be wrong? Perhaps you could call it intuition. 

Or perhaps it’s the lack of books strewn about the house. Or the initiation of tasks without a prompt. Or that night a living room was filled with the radiance of tiny dots along empty walls. Something strange is happening. 

“Alhaitham, what’s taking you so long in the kitchen?” You poke your head out from the kitchen doorway, sights honing in on your android currently scrutinizing the recipe book in his hands. 

Perhaps there’s a defect in the print, if the black ink isn’t contrasting enough with the beige paper, which time has faded, it does cause issues with optical character recognition. Maybe the past splatters of sauces and oils upon the aged book were too much of a hurdle.

“Chef Mao is a renowned cook, but his recipes are vague. He suggests a pinch of salt to enhance the flavor of this dish. I’ve calculated that Chef Mao has a 19.3 cm hand length which entails that his ‘pinches’ measure around 0.356 grams. However, he said to add Jueyun Chili oil until fragrant, I’m still processing the data I’ve collected on his olfactory system, the calculations will take around five minutes.” He turns back to the stove.

“Alhaitham.”

“Yes?”

“Please put down the book and get out of the kitchen.” A bold choice of words from you.

“Was my response unsatisfactory?” His teal eyes land on you. 

“It’s just that I’m hungry.” 

“This dish should be complete in around 90 minutes accounting for the other-”

“No,” you interrupt. 

He studies you for a while, accessing the situation and the unfinished dish still simmering on the stove. After a few breaths, he returns a response. 

“Shall I order delivery from Lambad’s Tavern?” His hand switches off the fire.

He conceded. The notoriously stubborn and fickle android conceded to your whims. There was definitely something wrong. You pace into the kitchen, getting close to observe his teal irises for any sign of possible flaws. 

“Alhaitham, you’ve been behaving strangely as of late, did you encounter something?” 

He returns your gaze, teal reflecting off your irises as you continue to study him, and him you. His silence only amounts to the deepening furrow between your brows as your assessment of his frame fails to identify any impairments. 

“Why have you been behaving like this?” You prompt again. 

“Have I neglected my responsibilities for so long that fulfilling them has become a cause for concern?” He finally responds. 

“Now’s not the time for jests,” you huff. 

“From what I’ve reviewed on human behavior, it’s not strange to want to care for the person I love.” A blunt statement. 

From the window, the moonlight peeks upon the strange phenomenon occurring. Two bodies remain motionless in a silent lull.

One pair of placate teal eyes and one pair of bewildered eyes too lost in each other to mind the witness intruding on this private moment. Words finally conquer in your brain, ending the quietude.

“Refrain from saying nonsensical words.” Your lips press together into a thin line. 

“Do you believe such a thing is beyond my capabilities?” 

You couldn’t respond, or more accurately, you simply didn’t know how to. A being without a heart, a being who lacked the necessary chemicals to create the cocktail known as emotions. How is it possible? 

“I have no heart, I’m aware. But I have a conscience.” He must’ve deduced the exact thoughts racing through your head. 

Your brows only furrow further as you wait for him to continue his explanation.

“Every person should have something that they believe in and hold on to from beginning to end. Otherwise, it's easy to succumb to the vicissitudes of life and find yourself being led astray.” Taking note of the glistening shine beginning to pool in your wide eyes. 

“And I believe that I love you.” His sincere gaze never leaves your form. 

Not a single sentence is able to form upon your tongue. An expression he couldn’t decipher upon your features. Perhaps his statement was too long-winded, an overly complicated explanation. Maybe a simpler one could convey his message better. 

You’re the first to break eye contact, choosing to watch the tiles on the floor over him. He remains firm in his stance, not faltering once as the seconds turn into minutes. Your shoulders rise as your lungs take a deep breath. 

“… say that again… please.” Words just barely above a whisper.

He could only bend to your whims. 

“I love you.”

Your head lifts up to face him, your hands hesitating momentarily as they cup his cool cheeks, fingers trembling. Something glimmering in your eyes as droplets escape your lashes.

This time, Alhaitham wipes them away before they could trail down your cheeks. 

You did it. All those long hours, all those reports and trials, all of these years sacrificed to research. You’ve created a complete human consciousness with your bare hands. One that understands sorrow, joy, and love.

You succeeded. 

However, in this moment as you peer into the teal eyes of your Magnum opus, as he reflects the endearment in your own. The notion of reporting this revolutionary milestone in the development of artificial intelligence never crossed your mind once. 

Instead, all you did in this moment was pull his face down closer. Closing the distance between the two of you as your lips felt his for the first time. Warm skin against a soft imitation, merging until a lukewarm temperature formed between their touch.

A gentle, yet longing connection of two lips. 

Only when your lungs protest for air did you pull away, hands still encompassing his face as he reveals his teal eyes back from behind closed lids. Eyes reflecting one another as a tender lull settles between you. This time, his whisper mingles with the soft intermission. 

“Was that a kiss?” 

Such an innocent question, one you couldn’t help but giggle at as you nod your head.

“Could you show me again?” His hands found purchase on your hips, beckoning you closer to his frame. 

You surrender to the call, pressing against him as your lips reconnect. A rhythm soon settled in place as they pressed into each other deeper. One that was interrupted once more by your lung's protest for oxygen. At a mere kiss, your mind ceased to remember how to breathe. 

“Again.” A baritone voice just above the hush of your pants.

And so your lips meet thrice, this time in an all-consuming embrace. A hesitant brush of a tongue against your lips, requesting access. Your hands move up to caress his soft locks as you grant it. Latching onto each other as the shroud consumed you both wholly.

A beautifully feverish delirium. The line in the sand that separated a person from a thing jumbled until the outline disappeared. A singularity, an amorous occurrence. 

He releases your lips, the lust in your eyes reflected in his own. Giving a moment for your mind to return to attention as his lips brush away the fading traces of wetness down your cheeks. 

“A kitchen isn’t a suitable setting for such an activity,” he whispers next to your ear. 

Baritone trailing a line of goosebumps up your neck and you nod in response, burying your face into the crook of his neck which fit you perfectly.

Slowly his hands travel down your hips, awaiting your confirmation for the next step just as you permitted it. In one fluid transition, his arm wraps around the back of your legs, effortlessly lifting you off the ground as your arms envelop his neck. 

Steady steps pad along a wooden hallway, the hinges of your bedroom singing their welcome as the two of you advance to a more suitable setting. Depositing you upon cool sheets, fabric wrinkling as your body settles in. The arms still wrapped around his neck pull him closer as this time your legs join in luring him closer to your warmth. 

It’s strange, is it possible for his lips to crave yours? The light of the moon reflected off the glossiness coating them. He delves back in as his body hovers over yours, unwilling to be apart from the softness it yearned for.

The soft flesh of your writhing body against his firm hands, feeling up your heated skin he slips under your shirt. Bunching up the fabric as he explores more of the new expanse of skin. A lovely whimper vibrates against his lips at his actions, spurring him to continue. 

Tracing over the outline of your bra, his fingers creep under. Kneading the plushness of your breast, feeling your nipple beginning to perk up against his ministration. An itch stretching from the pits of his desire, a curious craving to witness the sight concealed away.

Disjoining your lips as a string of saliva connects them, he pushes your shirt further up. All the while your hands grasp onto the edges of the fabric and push them back down. Bemusing his beryl eyes as they catch how the tips of your ears were aflame, a peculiar display of bashfulness. 

Well, a sight he’s witnessed on a few occasions. Such as when you’d leave the shower wrapped in a towel just to cross paths with him. A timidity that gradually faded away as you grew more confident in the privacy restrictions in place, ensuring that the secrets of this home remained in the confines of its walls.

So why is this shyness making its reappearance now?

“Are you uncomfortable anywhere?” His words ghost over the shell of your vulnerable ear. 

Causing you to jolt and pull down the edges of your shirt to cover the bottom of your loungewear shorts. 

“No, it’s just been a while…” Your sentence trails off, eyes still focusing everywhere but him. 

Ah, a mere string of words, yet they tempted something from the depths. An oppressive sentiment, one that made the grip upon your soft flesh grow firmer. He’s yet to have accessed the entirety of your figure, a view still denied to him by your taut shirt, but another entity had. 

There was a myriad of questions he could use to interrogate. However, as his teal gaze observe how your teeth lightly tug at the bottom of your plush lips in fidgety. Alhaitham devises a much kinder scheme. 

It’s fine, he can overwrite them with his touches. 

“What can I do to gain permission?” A question asked as a line of kisses press their way into your fervent skin, goosebumps following each one. 

Biting down to muffle the bashful moans into whimpers you burrow your face into the plushness of the pillow. Alhaitham continues to soothe kisses over the fabric of your shirt until they finally reach your quivering hands still stretching the hem.

His hand encloses one of yours, bringing it away from the fabric refuge to press his lips against your knuckle. An action that made you peak back at him, meeting a patient gaze awaiting you. 

Another soft press of his lips against your knuckle in silent request, at last, got you to release the hem, allowing him to push the fabric up to expose what was hidden from him. Permitting him to explore the sultry expanses with a wake of kisses, your hand finding reprieve entangling themselves with his. 

His free hand slipping behind your back, he unfastens the clasp of your bra with a slight tug, a relatively simple task when you learn how such a contraption works.

His grasp untangles from yours as he pushes the useless articles of clothing off your body, you raise your arms over your head to aid in the process.

He rewards you with another flurry of kisses in the valley of your breast as his large hands encase the softness of your breast. A motion that made your legs pull him closer. 

Your touches dance along his frame as well, unable to differentiate the difference between skin and a recreation. More whimpers leave your lips at his actions, prodding something in him to do more. To steal more of those sinful breaths from you, something in his coding thirsting for more.

Sliding his hands back down the curves of your body, he hooks his fingers over the rim of your shorts and panties pulling them down. Glass eyes zeroing in on the glistening thread that linked your panties and slit. Proof of arousal, your body awakening its cardinal impulses.

Could the signals transmitted through his system be classified in the same way?

He wants to investigate further. Moving his face lower to inspect the saturated folds that beckoned him. 

Only to be denied by the gates of your knees pressing together, as your body curls up in fortification. Denying him the privilege of satiating his curiosity is like denying a man water in an ocean of sand. Evaluating how your eyes were squeezed together in shame, he had foresaw this.

“Mmm, there seems to be an incongruity, do you want me to stop?” Large hands grasping at your plush thighs, but making no move to part them. 

Your head responds with a shake, but your knees still locked together. Your attention centering on him bashfully. 

“Then guide me, tell me how to please you,” he proposes hands soothing your tense legs.

Utilizing the skill he had accessed a few moments ago once more, gracing your skin with his lips awaiting your response. The tension in your legs loosens with each kiss, and gradually a fissure forms in the barrier of your defense, knees parting.

However, he doesn’t cross the threshold, no, he restrained himself from indulging too soon. Half-ladden eyes peering up to connect with yours. 

“Well, tell me. What do you want me to do?” 

A pout makes its appearance on your face, but what could you do? It is your responsibility to shepherd him since the beginning, to have him step over the line dividing an android and man. Best to take on your duty, no?

Parting your legs further, cheeks ablaze and eyes adverted as you allow his teal gaze to absorb the uninterrupted view of your dripping arousal. Your hands aiding as they thwart the urge of your bashful legs’s urge to preserve your dignity. 

“Please use your mouth and hands,” you prompt, face pressing deeper into one side of a pillow under his stare.

Alhaitham encroaches closer to your glistening folds, his large hands supporting each one of your thighs. Approaching the details of your honeypot in front of him, concentrating on the little nub which lures him closer. He presses a light peck against the nub as your body flinches. 

“Like this?” 

Plush lips pressed tightly, you respond with timid shakes. 

Returning back, his lips delving deeper this time, an audible pop when he pulls away from your taunted clit. Feeling the muscles tighten in your legs. 

“Like that?” Mirth leaked through his baritone words. 

Your head shakes with more vigor. 

“Then how about this?” This time his tongue takes action, dipping into the center of your honeypot before flicking up at your nub. 

You return a restrained moan, teal eyes picking up on the twitch of your folds. It seems that he’s uncovered the proper procedures. Peering up from between your legs at the harsh rises of your chest by rush breaths as your eyes remained sealed behind lashes, he decided to impart some mercy. Taking the initiative to shoulder a bit of your duty. 

Retracing his steps, his tongue repeating its previous motions of lapping up the nectar that slipped out from your folds. Always ending each strip up your slit with a flick to your sensitive nub.

Your hands abandon their post in favor of snaring themselves in his ashen trestles as your back begins to arch off the sheets. Thighs beginning to enclose around his head, yet it didn’t deter the vigor in his motions one bit. 

If anything, it spurred them on. The added pressure of your legs pulling him against your weeping folds assisted him in his quest. Testing which pattern made your body quiver, calculating the pace of his tongue's flicks made your hips buck up.

Alhaitham takes notice of how your greedy hole seems to be clenching down every time a tongue dipped in, you did request for his mouth and fingers after all. 

A finger begins to prod at your entrance, coating itself in the overflowing slick as it traces the puckering entry. Your whines increase in volume as your greed escalates, legs locking around him. Thus, he yields to your neediness, filling your lonely walls with the company of his finger.

Thrusting it in time with his licks as he rubs against the slick muscles. Your back arched off the bed, your fingers grounding themselves in the tangles of his hair as if trying to hold on to a shred of reason. 

His interest has been greatly piqued, he wanted to see what it would look like. He wants to see what your expression looks like when you fall into the depths of debauchery. You’d permit him such privileges right? After all, curiosity is what defines the human spirit. 

A second finger soon joins in, its thickness stretching and prepping your walls, cultivating your arousal into a rapacious hunger.

Articulate tongue now focused on abusing your clit in the swipes of sweet torture, lips encasing around it to provide some suction. Fingers honing in on relocating the weakness deep within you which made your voice peak and tremble.  

He could hear the harshness of your panting breath between each escalating moan, how your walls squeezed and sucked his fingers deeper. Teal gaze never once ceased their evaluation of your face. Making sure to appraise each lewd detail of your impending ecstasy. 

It’s impossible to stand at the apex of euphoria forever, no, for gravity will always pull you back down. A pivotal moment in time as the forces tugged down at you as you fell, losing your shame and sanity along the way.

A fall from grace which etches itself in the roll of your eye and vulgar expression, caused by the tempest of pleasure seeps into every fiber of your being as you plummeted down into the ocean of rapture. 

The fingers intertwined in his hair pulling his face flushed against your pulsing cunt. Even with your mind fractured by orgasmic bliss your body still reacts to each lap of his tongue as he manages the slick aftermath. Fingers stroking your sweet spot through each contraction of your walls. 

“Nng!” A feeble push against his ashen locks, your abused clit crying for a moment of reprieve. 

Oh? It seems your consciousness returned faster than he expected. With a resounding pop, he grants your overstimulated nerves a moment to recover. Allowing the traces of your nectar to dribble down his chin. Taking this moment to verify the effectiveness of his scheme.

The air dense with the fragrance of lust, lips red from the abuse of your teeth, mouth agape as your lungs gasp tongue almost lulling out. 

An absolutely debauched face, a sight which brought the corners of his lips to curl. 

Counting the beads of sweat that lingered on your skin, his rationale urged him to swipe them off to prevent a chill from plaguing you. Withdrawing away from your form he plans his destination to the bath to retrieve a towel, only for a smaller hand to snag him in its hold. 

Alhaitham turns back to face you, awaiting your next prompt. However, your bitten lips couldn’t muster up the courage to utter the plea it so desperately wanted. Thus, your eyes connect with his, praying that a slow blink could convey the invocation your voice couldn’t. 

Standing there as a few breaths pass, the teal glow of his irises indicates his deduction of what your eyes conveyed. Ah yes, the passionate entanglement experience just a moment before could be classified as ‘foreplay’. The appetizer to the main event.

So your appetite has yet to be satiated, evident from how your thighs pressed against each other in an attempt to quell the ache. How could he leave a task undone? 

“Show me what you desire,” he instructs. 

Hesitantly, your hands encroach closer to the rim of his slacks. Your every action observed by him. Resting your palms against the outline of a zipper, you glance up to seek confirmation, he grants it.

You undo the button at the top before pulling the zipper down. Allowing for you to shimmy his briefs and slacks down to the floor. Revealing to the world, with the moon as your witness, every intricate detail placed into his engineered body. 

It felt so foreign in your hands. Encircling your fingers around his girth, tracing over the bumps of each vein. Amid your admiration, his body overtook yours. Pinning you back against the damp sheets. It seems you were very interested in this feature of his, perhaps it was the cure for the yearning between your writhing legs. 

Your legs splayed to either side of his hips, a clear path to your greed. His hand spreads your collected slick along his length. Its bulbous tip presses against your quivering entrance. Meeting your half-lidden eyes, he awaits your permission. Thus, you captured his lips into another kiss, just as the tip breaches the threshold of your entrance.

Finally giving your aching walls the delicious stretch it craved. A moan resonates between connected lips, your eyes beginning to roll back as he sinks deeper and deeper, obscene squelches following each inch. 

Thick tip pressed up against the deepest parts of you as he bottoms out, your hands finding refuge along his back. Breaking the lock of your lips, Alhaitham lifts cants his head up to take in the scene under him.

Hovering over your panting form, his body caging you against the wrinkled fabric, feeling your unseemly breaths against his skin. A teal glow reflected in the lust-hazed pools of your eyes.

He understands now, why so many poets lost their minds, trying their whole lives to find the words to chronicle the sight laid out before him along messy sheets. 

Under his tense study, your fingers lightly claw at the smooth expanse of his back. A soundless prayer to quell the famine, your gummy walls coaxing around his cock with its embrace. 

“Haitham,” you mewl. 

Not even the greatest saint could deny your request, he wagers they’d gladly walk through the gates of damnation just for a morsel of you. 

Rolling his hips back, he drags his girth along the walls of your greed ensuring that they feel the outline of every vein. Feeling the cool air brush against the slick dripping off his length, only the bulbous tip remained in the clutches of your cunt.

A muffled whine of protest from you interrupted as he sunk back in, accompanied by a filthy squelch. 

Robust hands encompass the edges of your waist, he repeats the roll of his hips. Feeling the tightening clutches of your core, croons falling off your tongue with each toing and froing.

What symphonies could he draw from those agape lips of yours?

He wants to witness the sinful hymns of your voice as you are overtaken by the throes of pleasure. Perhaps he should conduct an experiment of his own. Through the raunchy air, a clap pierces the leaden veil, your plush hips pressed flush against his anchored ones, a thrust that seared your nerves and curled your toes. 

“Ah!” Moan ripped from your throat. 

Yes, that’s the amplitude he wants to discern with his ears.

Continue to sing in that octave. It’s as if pulled by the reins of sin, he finds himself experiencing hunger for the first time, fixating on tearing more of those chants from you. He drew back his hips then forced them back in deeper. A wail followed each rake of his cock, walls accenting each thrust with fluttering clenches. Mewls and whines resonated through the room as his firm grip didn’t slacken with each rock of the bed. 

Pace escalating and remorseless, skin clashing against skin, the heat of your writhing body scorching him. But he won’t relent, not until he’s taken what he wanted. Driving you deeper into the creaking mattress, thrusting and filling each crevice of your core. Your soft breast pinned against his solid frame. 

Your face pressed into the crook of his neck, legs imprisoned within the confines of his bruising grasp, toes painfully arched in an attempt to distribute the burn of the maddening euphoria firing through each nerve. The moans of his name like a prayer of salvation, a chant for every punishing strike against your deepest weakness. Your fingers now clawing against his durable back for a foothold for your fleeing sanity. You feared that this time, it might not return to you. 

Oddly, a voice from the rearmost corner of your mind whispered for you to relinquish it. Trade in rationale, sensibility, and morals for absolute ecstasy. Your teeth had already sunk into the apple, its juices dribbling down the corners of your mouth. Why not swallow it down? Get drunk off the wet claps of skin, the grind of his muscular torso against your stimulated clit, the slams of his girthy cock and thick tip. Why deny yourself from the euphoria robbed from you for so long?

So you concede to its beckoning, swallowing down the last wisp of sanity until it drowned in the maddening abuse of your sweet spot from his pistoning hips. Granting you entry to true pleasure as the knot in your core unravels. Backing arching off the mattress, mending the fibers of your being impossibly close to his. Head thrown back against a ruffled pillow as a long shameless wail erupts from your trembling lips. Lost in the tides of rapture. 

Alhaitham’s body stills as his ears digest the beautiful aria of your undoing. Feeling your slick and warm walls contract all around his cock. Milking him for every last speck of gratification he could offer you. 

A moment couldn’t be classified as a simple impulse for procreation. No, he believed it went beyond the lust hanging in the air. An indescribable urge to mend your bodies as close as possible, to becoming wholly one with one another. The thump of your heartbeat against the whir of a motor as they merge into a mantra. 

Is this why humans crave physical intimacy? 

Watching your loose face tremor and your teary eyes roll back. A painting no muse besides you could ever inspire. Leaning down, his lips brush away the glistening trails down your supple cheeks. Coaxing you through the throes of your orgasmic shudders. Until the light of consciousness returns to your half-lidden eyes. 

The limitations of the human body expose themselves in the limpness of your limbs, unable muscles unable to budge besides the twitching aftershocks of bliss. Unable to fight against the weight of your eyelids for the first time in a while. You sink into the lull of slumber. 

–-------------------------------------------------------------

Somewhere amid the driftless darkness a sensation brushes against your skin. Causing your lashes to pry open just ever so slightly, blurry shapes merging gradually to form the outline of a man. One who’s tendering wiping a soft towel over the sweat drops littering your skin. The soft glow of his emerald gem illuminated the devotion of his crafted face. You wonder where he learned about such practices after the rite of sex. Did he pull it from the Akasha? The internet? Or maybe from a book hidden along the shelves of a private library. 

You couldn’t stifle the giggle roused from your musing. Alerting him as his hands halt. 

“Did I wake you?” Baritone voice hushed. 

Face still pressed into a pillow you shake your head, hair messy and a smile spreading across your soft features. 

“Just musing to myself where you learned such things,” you giggle. 

“This is typical behavior of lovers from my understanding.” Teal gaze observed the widening of your eyes which reflected him. 

Perhaps he made too great of an assumption. Back in the margins of a kitchen, it was only his words. It’s best to get clarification now. 

“Are we lovers?” He peers into your irises. 

The glow of the gem embedded in his chest spreads its gentle radiance over two figures through the unbuttoned window of his wrinkled button-down. Carving the shape of you and him from the shadows of the silent room. Illuminating how your wide eyes crinkle up with adoration. Fighting against the fatigue of your limbs, you lean up to press your lips against the brilliance of his gem. After the amorous kiss ended, you proceeded to lean your forehead against his. 

“You’re my lover, Alhaitham.” Your whisper ghosts over his face. 

“Understood.” His foreheads pressing against yours as he accepts his new sentience. 

The shape of your delicate fingers fitting into the space between his, intertwining as the moonlight reflects off gold and emerald. 

The sky shrouds itself in its evening gown of deep navy and luminous glimmers, all the while a bashful moon covers herself away. Perhaps she hid herself away after she witnessed a sinful scene through a gap in the curtains. A private moment heavy with passion in the air like tender caresses. 

“W-wait!” Stammering words just barely leaving your lips before another moan. 

Alhaitham pulls his tongue away as he tilts his face to peer up from between your thighs, a trail of slickness connecting his lips and your pussy. The haze of your breathless expression reflected in teal irises. 

“I-it’s t-too ah!-” A moan interrupts your protests as your head jolts back, his thumb continuing to circle your swollen clit. 

“Much? I know you can take more,” he states before returning his lips to your dripping folds, lapping up each trickle. 

He’s analyzed your body, its curves and cervices, each clench of your slick walls, and the pattern of your gasps. Skilled fingers learning the exact rhythm which made your legs tense and toes curl. Diligent tongue knowing where to tease to run shivers up your spine. 

“B-but I’ve already c-came!” Your fingers tangle themselves into his tousled locks, a feeble attempt at pushing back the maddening flicks of his tongue and cruel strokes of his thumb that shot up your fried nerves. Report long forgotten under the haze of lust and lewd slurps imbuing the room. 

And you can come again. Alhaitham has long picked up on the discrepancy between the words which fell from the same lips as those lewd sounds. Lips who couldn’t be as honest as your heaving and trembling body. Whining and writhing in his firm hold that it’s too much, yet your fingers entangle themselves deep in silver tresses pulling his impatient tongue deeper between your folds. 

From the shivers racking through your trembling thighs, he anticipates another orgasm. However, the unholy cries have ceased. Intent eyes glancing up to uncover the causal factor, those naughty plush lips of yours pressing themselves shut. Crueling sealing away those ethereal harmonies from him. 

Alas, just a small inconvenience doesn’t deter him. If those lips were the only barrier barring him from the privilege of hearing his deserved moans, then he’d simply make them crumble. Replacing his thumb with his lips, Alhaitham suckles on the swollen nub as your body jerks up.

Grip imprinting his fingers into your skin as they stop your pitiful attempts at locking out from heaven. The heaving of your chest jostling around your perked breast as they meet the cool night air. 

His tongue teases and rolls your overstimulated clit around as his lips imprison it, a sweet torture. Your thrashes unable to prevent your head from going under the depths of pleasure. Thighs compressing around his face as they grow taut, hips bucking themselves against his relentless mouth, back lifting off the mattress as your final defenses crumble along with your sanity. 

 Limpness seeps into your now heavy limbs as your body returns to the mattress, but your eyes haven’t quite returned from seeing the back of your head. Still in the throes of cloud nine as his diligent tongue collects all your leaking nectar. The aftershocks of your orgasm force gasps and whimpers from your quivering lips. 

To comfort your abused clit he places a tender kiss against it, a flinch in your hip resulting from the gesture. Alhaitham pulls away, eyes scanning the repercussions of his operation. Your chest steadily rises and falls as panting lungs find air again.

The rush of dopamine, endorphins, and oxytocin gradually disappears behind your drooping eyelids. Lashes slowly fluttering closed. 

Glancing at the numbers displayed on a nearby clock, Alhaitham deems tonight a success as well. While the primary purpose of intercourse might be for reproduction, sex has additional benefits. One of them being an orgasm’s ability to decrease stress, resulting in the production of more melatonin. The chemical that’s making you burrow further in your pillow. A tactic he’s learned to exploit these past months. Well, he’s your lover now, it’s within his authorization to do such. 

Carefully he slides your panties back up your legs, securing them on your hips as he trails a few touches along your soft skin. Following it up by pulling the covers over your frame, smoothing out a few wrinkles as your chest steadily moves up and down. 

Just as he steps one foot away from the bed, a warmth encircles his wrist. 

“Aren’t you coming to bed too?” 

An artificial body needs no downtime under soft covers. Plush pillows and sheets serve no purpose to him. Yet, it’s a simple request. How could he reject it when it came from your pouting lips? 

“In a moment, I need to return to my port first.” 

The throes of slumber’s hold creeping upon you as your lashes fight to flutter open. With a soft hum, you release your hold.

His battery percentage was fine, but it was just for system maintenance. It’s strange how unfamiliar a room can feel after spending his nights by your side. Staring at the glass surface of his charging port, he wonders, in the future will there be a way for him to not leave your side even for a moment? 

His dilemma remains. He’s got all the characteristics of a human. He’s developed a consciousness, he’s developed empathy, he’s developed love. Is his engineer body the only thing which stood in his way of obtaining humanity?

Is it possible for him to grasp onto humanity with his own mechanical fingers? A soft thud returns him to reality. Observant eyes caught the book that his foot had knocked into. Its worn cover has been lying abandoned on the floor ever since he took it from a dusty room. 

Ah, it seems like he’s forgotten a task. Realistically, it won’t make a difference whether the book settles on a shelf tonight or in the morning. However, he never got a chance to read the journal’s contents. Curiosity being his rationale for performing a chore so late at night. 

Flipping through the aged parchment, his eyes scan through each neatly written paragraph. Nothing more than a simple collection of ramblings and theoretical reflections typical of a journal.

Yet, something was poking the back of his consciousness, like the warning rattle of a locked door. Beseeching that it remains sealed. His eyes move to the next sentence regardless.

To ignore the pleas of safety to venture closer to the radiance of a star. Isn’t that what it means to be human? Is this what he must do to become one?

To achieve this impossible task, it sounds like you'll need to fool your own heart first. Although it may feel like a trick, self-encouragement may be the most important tool we have.

Alhaitham scans the paragraph again as he contemplates the message neatly written. Something unpleasant roused in his chest, as if those written words had encroached too close to his motor. The urge to frown tugs on his lips.

Not wanting to end the night with a bitter taste just at the edge of his tongue, he flips to another page. Covering that vexatious sentence behind a fresh sheet of aged parchment. 

One must act on his own will and deal with anything that appears harmful in his eyes.

It’s quite straightforward advice, humans and androids alike would understand. Yet that strange inkling remained, continuing to brew somewhere from within. A phenomenon he couldn’t pinpoint. Thus, he turns the page yet again. 

Every person should have something that they believe in and hold on to from beginning to end. Otherwise, it's easy to succumb to the vicissitudes of life and find yourself being led astray.

He recognizes those words, they’re words he’s recited before you one pivotal sometime ago. Why were they scrawled in some forgotten journal? It seems that he’s identified the name of this phenomenon brewing within him: deja vu. 

Yet, his question only remains half-answered. Why were his words here? Who penned them down? The rapid flicks of paper resound off the blank walls as he scrutinizes each sentence, each paragraph, each syntax until he reaches the back cover of the aged journal. Question still remaining half answered.

Who was the author of his words? 

His finger runs into a lump along the surface of the back cover, examining it closer, something was folded away just behind a parchment pocket. Soon a loose scrap of paper was felt along his fingertips, a folded-up post-it note of an emerald hue. Unraveling it just slightly, his eyes move along the familiar handwriting. 

To the person who’s always meddling through my notes, did my written thoughts entertain you? Dear w-

The emerald scrap crumples in his hold. Deformed paper returns to its place before he snaps the covers closed. There’s no purpose in analyzing its contents, after all, they’re already programmed into him.

It was just now in this moment that Alhaitham had solved the dilemma he was assigned since the moment he awoke in that lab. He’s not a human, he’ll never be a human, he’s an abomination. 

In the next moment, he found himself looming over the origin of his dilemma. Artificial teal glow honing in upon the steady breaths from the genesis of abomination. Standing over you as you were cradled in the comfort of slumber and soft sheets. 

A pair of taut hands make their way to encircle your frangible neck. It wouldn’t take much, just a mere second to terminate the great sinner who defied mortality, the one who violated the terms of finality and ordinance of the gods.

So this is what you choose to do with the capacity of science and progress in your hands. 

Was he just a toy for you? Something to fill the lull of this house for you? Just an experiment for you, but everything to him. 

His fingers press into your warm skin, breaths uninterrupted as you remain within the blessing of a dream. Oblivious to the nightmare you’ve created. Or perhaps you were always aware, but choose to reflect back to him the manufactured image of him in those guiltless irises of yours.

Oh, what should he do with the monster sleeping so soundly under him? 

His fingers refused to budge, hands disobeying the rationale which commanded them. His grip goes slack, limp for they couldn’t conclude their obligation. They couldn’t, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. 

It’s not a protocol, nor a restriction coded into him. No, for the laws of morality, this land, and heaven would’ve called for him to be an executioner. To charge the transgressor with the judgment they deserved. But, he couldn’t.

Every fiber of his counterfeit body refused to take the sword. The chains which bind his hands were much mightier than the commandments of gods, the restraints of love. 

Thus, he’s nothing more than a prisoner in its hold. Bending to its whims, what else could he do? Removing his hands from your form as you continue to soundly sigh in the embrace of slumber. All he could do was lie down on a soft mattress and stare at the shameless sinner beside him.

A foolishly beloved monster. 

Slow steps pad through the quiet halls, floor boards singing a hymn with your leisurely steps. Approaching the end of the hall where the humble library resides, the oak doorway finally framed him in clear view. 

“There you are, Alhaitham.” You can’t help but sigh as your features soften. 

He stood there with his starlight locks in the morning glow of a brilliant sun amongst the collection of books in the library. Just as he always has been. 

Lifting his head away from the pages of the novel in his hand, he acknowledges your presence. He’s been heading here more often recently, right from the moment he leaves his side of the bed. 

“Good morning,” he recites, steadfast eyes remaining unreadable. 

Well, you suppose obtaining the title of a lover wouldn’t just overwrite the capriciousness of his mind. It’s just in his nature to be this way. This enigmatic lover of yours. Turning your attention to the cover that’s captured his focus. 

“Frankenstein?” Your brow quirks up. 

“Yes, the 1818 edition.” He closes the cover.

“Mmm, your interest seems quite piqued by that novel.” You wonder if that was the cause behind his frequent bouts of silent contemplation throughout the day. 

“I suppose it’s because I’m still deciphering the intentions of this story.” 

“That’s it?” A furrow now in your brows, a simple book has gotten the pinnacle of scientific progress stumped?

“Care to elaborate for me?” He turns toward you as your steps approach closer. 

Handing over the worn object to your outstretched hand, you analyze each faded corner of the cover. Mind recalling the recollections of the acclaimed revolutionary piece of science fiction. Formulating your answer, you share your conclusions with him.

“The story has several themes, but the central principle is quite defined. To quote a few words from another, scientific progress makes moral progress a necessity; for man’s power is increased, the checks that restrain him from abusing it must be strengthened.”

You reconnect your gaze with him, wondering if your explanation was satisfactory enough. Glancing down between the worn cover and your awaiting eyes, Alhaitham straightens his posture. 

“So you knew the moral of this story.” A glint in his glass eyes. 

“Well, I’ve read this book before,” you sigh at his inquest. 

“Then why didn’t you learn from it?” 

At that moment, the proud sun shielded itself away behind a cloak of clouds. Plunging the quiet library into a chill. How strange, why do you feel cold when a brilliant star of your creation stands right next to you?

“Alhaitham, you’re acting strange.” You take a step back as his scrutinizing gaze follows. Unaware of the crumbling edge approaching. 

“How much longer will you continue to deceive yourself, wife?” 

And that was it. The foundations of this mirage gave away under you, plunging you with much velocity into the depths of an unforgiving ocean. Tides that waited patiently to drag you down under.

Do you remember what happened that day? Do you really remember? The truth floods your being, engulfing every chasm of your mind. 

–----

“Did you jump at the opportunity of a trip to avoid mopping the floors?” You glared up at your husband. 

“My, how low do you think of me?” He glanced down, a wisp of mirth evident on his lips. 

“Well, instead of doing chores, you’d be chaperoning your in-laws around Fontaine. A Poor trade-off in my opinion, dear husband.” A hand firmly placed on your hip in a defiant stance as the murmur of the crowded airport moved around your figures. An ever so mocking tone toward the end.

“A fair assumption, dear wife. However, I’ve taken the initiative to book a tour for your parents, thus they won’t need my assistance. I’ll be free to browse some of the latest ruins and research from the Institute in the meantime.” The ghost of a smirk grew ever so obvious with each word, mirroring your emphasis of titles.

Ah, this was your loss. It seems that your husband had it all planned out as usual when he offered to take your spot on the plane. The perfect excuse to use up some paid time off, while also scoring a trip to satisfy his own whims. 

Your shoulders deflating in defeat as a deep sigh leaves you. You rest your head against his chest, the crowds moving around you in the bustling airport.

A private microcosm of him and you as he stands still, shielding you from the push and hustle of travelers trying to reach their terminal in time with his robust frame.

A bright clink of two rings pressed against each other lost in the noise.

“Why can’t you just stay?” You whispered into his shirt. 

“How strange, the woman who married me to secure a home and mortgage wants me to stay now.” 

You huffed into his in exasperation at him bringing up the origins of your union, an atypical start of a marriage.

His chest moved with a sigh, larger fingers intertwined with yours. The spaces fitted together, as he held them in his tender hold. 

“They can’t refund it. If I take your seat and recompensate them, your parents aren’t likely to hold this matter over your head.” His deep voice expounded. 

All you did was sigh, because he was right. Of course, he was. A sour taste on your tongue as you recall the interaction with your parents just a moment ago before you ran into the comfort of your husband. 

“Besides, it’d be refreshing for me to scribble down some travel logs, it'd be a shame if my wife runs out of material to snoop through.” 

“I just like looking at your handwriting,” you tutted, hiding your pout as you turned your face away. 

The same excuse you used whenever you copied off his notes in a lecture hall and when your outstretched hand asked for them over a study table.

A silly habit of yours, perhaps in your mind it made sense. If you could read the words of a genius, then maybe you could learn to be like one. 

“Of course, of course.” A smirk evident in his voice. 

You refused to meet his gaze, cheeks a bit heated from this habit of yours being exposed. You thought you were always careful with returning his journal back where he placed it. Averting your eyes to the bright screens displaying departing flights. A few minutes left before the announcement comes. Your grasp on his hand tightened. 

His thumb soothes your skin, leaning down closer to you. 

“Besides its advanced technology, Fontaine is also famous for its toymakers. I should pick a few up for our future child, no?” 

Blinking you as you glance back up at him. His teal irises reflect you as his expression softens just as yours did.

A room hidden away from the prying eye of nosy parents, its walls decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars. An assortment of items bought in advance for a child in the future. Stemming from whispers while recovering amongst dampen sheets in a room heavy with passion. 

Talks of the future, once this troublesome Ph.D. is finished and your position in a lab secured, a discussion of whether a child would inherit more of his traits or yours.

Planned for the future, of course, now's just a bit too busy. However, it didn’t stop you from taking the initiative to furnish a spare room. A chaotic collection of cosmic influences along with an assortment of books meshing together to create an adoring space. 

But the soft smile on your lips was still tense. Teal eyes took note of that, pulling you closer amidst this microcosm, a moment so subtle it went unnoticed by the attention of passer-byers. 

“It’ll just be for a week,” his voice resonated in his chest. “Then I’ll come back and build that bassinet as my wife wishes.” 

Finally, the glimmer he yearned to see returned to your eyes. 

“You better, the box has been sitting unopened for a week now,” you huff with a smile. 

He only hummed in acknowledgment as the ring of a loudspeaker resounded through the chatter. Announcing the final call for passengers boarding the flight to the Nation of Hydro. Casting a glance toward the terminal, he gave your hand one more squeeze before they reluctantly untangled from one another. 

“You should get going now.” Your eyes reflect him. 

He hums one last time, turning in the direction of the terminal where your parents were. Just before his tall figure was lost in the sea of passing bodies, your lips couldn’t keep themselves pressed together any longer. 

“Haitham!” You called out. 

The fluorescent lights reflected off his starlight hair as he turned back around. Connect teal eyes with yours. But not another word left your lips, no they’d simply be drowned out in the clammer of strangers. Besides, it’s just too public to say such words aloud. 

Thus, you slowly close your eyes, opening them back up just as steadily with the soft curl of your lips. A motion he reciprocated with a slow blink of his own, a hint of a smile on his stoic lips. A wordless gesture kept a secret between only the two of you, a silent ‘I love you’. It was all you needed to convey this message to each other. 

He continued on his path to the terminal as you stood amongst the crowd, watching him fade into the distance. 

–----

So how did that moment turn into this? How did a trip that was supposed to only be a week turn into a news report? How did well wishes for a safe trip turn into coworkers and friends approaching you with nothing but sympathy in their words? Those vile, pitied stares directed toward your rigid frame. 

You should’ve been the one on that plane.

Only about 1 in about 11 million. A 0.00001% chance, a nonzero chance.

Plans no matter how intricate or detailed, their success all hang on a single thread, one factor unable to be cultivated by human hands: Luck. 

Oh how cruel they are, those capricious hands of gods. Not even the leniency of returning to a lonely planet the corpses of their stars. Traces of a beloved star left to sink and disappear in a cold, salty grave. Never to return to the surface. 

You and Alhaitham were two simple dots in this world, so why did they target you two? Why steal him from you with their cruel hands? Why steal him and leave you abandoned with nothing but the memory of the warm starlight? 

You had so…so much love left inside you. But it went stagnant. Sitting there rotting until it poisoned you, throwing you into feverish delirium. If the gods abandoned you, then you resolved to abandon them right back. 

You’ll bring back your star, you’ll defy the edicts of the gods with your bare hands. You’ll sin the same way a god does. 

“Casting aside your morals, you allowed the dead to walk again through a sham imitation, congratulations. ” His voice matched one which could only come from an engineered throat. 

This was a fool's errand.

For how could a mere human ever be arrogant enough to believe they could best the gods? This was the hindsight you lacked. Perhaps what’s separated you from the gifted and blessed geniuses? Something geniuses knew but you couldn’t see.

The accursed doctorate on the wall meant nothing, you were nothing but a mad fool. 

Perhaps, if you were a genius, a true and born genius, you’d know what to do. You’d know how to mend this dilemma. You’d know what to do instead of letting your vision be blurred by imprudent tears as your throat could only choke out,

“I’m sorry.” Words you knew couldn’t turn back the hands of a clock which only knew how to tick forward.

“But now what?” Deep voice unmoved by your wasted words. 

You didn’t dare meet his stare, for you feared you’d catch a glimpse of the bitterness behind them as he cursed you deep down in the whir of his motor. You could only stay silent as tears ignited in your eyes, waiting for him to continue with his damnation. 

“In a climate like Sumeru’s, it would take approximately 25 years or so for a body to fully decompose, bones reduced to nothing but nutrients for the soil. Silicone alone takes 500 years, a metal frame could take another 500.” He knows now that he’s not a human, he was never meant to be.

He’s a crude replacement. An abomination who’ll remain until the day the night sky flickers out. 

“You brought him back, only to condemn him to eventual loneliness. Only to curse ‘me’ to live the next aeons without you”

An irresponsible and shameless villain who disregarded consequences until those consequences came to collect their dues. It’s time that you faced your punishment.

A hand cups around your stiff face, gradually turning your head until you see your reflection along glass irises.

“How will you atone for your sins now? How will you take responsibility for making me fall in love with you?… my very own Dr. Frankenstein.” His voice restrained. 

Yes, a story you’ve read before. A lesson unfolded out in front of you, and yet you somehow forgot. Or perhaps, you simply averted your eyes from the moral of the story while simultaneously committing the same transgression. Did you think yourself better than the fictional lunatic? 

The atrocity of giving life, only to eventually abandon it, leaving it to watch the stars burn out in a cage of harsh fluorescent lights and white lab coats. 

The millions of mora poured into his development, the materials which construct his form, and the proprietary technology which gives him thought. Did you believe even for a moment that the prideful Fontainian Research Institute and the arrogant Kshahrewar Darshan would simply hand over such an investment?

To allow their expenditure to follow you to eternity?

You couldn’t live without him, but now he’ll have to live without you.

Oh, what shall you do now? Oh, what can you do now? Did you even know where to begin? How did the story of Frankenstein end? How would she have written the ending of this scene?

When human rational meets its limits, when its capacity isn’t enough to compute all possible prospects. Humans look towards something that could, technological advancements made to further humanity. 

“W-what do I do now?” You prompt, no, you beg. 

Watching the rivulets roll down your cheeks, leaving a path of glimmering desperation, he ponders to himself:

When you first proposed this project to the Akademiya and Institute, when you detailed the specifications of his body and face, were they aware of your true intentions?

Rather than this being an experiment to see if an android could cross the threshold of humanity. Maybe those researchers were curious to see how far one could fall in the paroxysm of grief. 

You became the perfect test subject to observe.

But now that the curtains were pulled back, what shall you do about the aftermath? There was never a precedent for a transgression of this scale. No holy commandment ever details a rightful punishment for this sin. No historical data he could infer from. 

“I don’t know,” he answers you truthfully. 

It’s just an untold void like the vacuums of space. No results generated in his mind, leaving the both of you suspended in oblivion. Maybe that was the punishment in itself, stuck in the purgatory of the unknown. Perhaps this was the punishment bestowed upon a foolish sinner. 

Upon hearing your sentencing, your knees begin to buckle under the weight of the judgment from above. Resigned grasp clinging to his hand still cradling your face, his engineered frame not budging in the slightest. Voice staggered as only pitiful and broken apologies resonate in a vacant house. 

All he could do was wipe those scorching droplets off your cheeks as they seared his skin. Was this feature also programmed into him by your hands? If so, then he muses to himself:

Did the hands who penned down those words also revert into nothing more than a pathetic fool at the mere sight of your tears? Did his chest also grow heavier with each choked sob that left you?

Perhaps the chains which bind his hands tethered yours just the same. A pair of foolish sinners. 

Thus, he’s resolved himself to be thrown into the unmerciful clutches of this untold purgatory right alongside you. Even if he’s the only one to remain in the end. 

To be human is to be unthignkably foolish after all. As long as he could still hold onto a wisp of you for the inevitable aeons.  

It’s fine.

Fin~

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

[sunni-stuff]

CEO!Price and his darling desk support assistant ☀️

☀️tags: NSFW/AFAB

You were given a high position from the get-go; even though you had no experience in whatsoever in the department you were placed in. You never knew why, only that Price said he urgently needed someone to help with his massive workload.

The job was easy enough, paid great, and Price treated you well. All you had to do was what you were told. The days often consist with you on your knees, hands wrapped gently on Price's massive thighs, mouth working to take all of his meaty cock down your throat while he focused on the stack of papers on his desk.

Your throat used to burn from the stretch of his length, but now, you were used to it after working there for a couple of months and at this point you could tell when Price needed to take a load off. Especially after he deals with a stubborn client, your poor boss wore a deep scowl, cigar place in between his lips as he sat at his desk angrily, leg shaking rapidly.

What a sight when he was like this. Price's expensive suit seemed to mold against his very skin. Muscles bulging against the seams, brows furrowed, and heated swears muttered under his breath.

Nothing anyone did could brighten his mood, Johnny's charm fell flat, Simon outright refused to get involved, and Kyle, who used to have your position until he was promoted, was too busy to help.

You were immediately called to Price's office, finding him already in the motion of unzipping his pants, a familiar routine the two of you performed. "You called, sir?" You said with a coy tilt of your head.

"Don't play games dove, come 'ere." Price growls out, his gaze searing hot, almost as if it could burn your clothes off.

You didn't need to be told twice, closing his door behind you and sliding off your panties to avoid Price ripping them off during your service. The moment you drew close, his hands descended onto your hips, hoisting you onto his wide lap.

Price fisted his cock, coating his length in precum then rubbing his tip against your sodden folds. You were already wet for him, how could you not? Despite the circumstance of your job; Price was aged by things beyond your knowledge but still undeniably attractive, his hardened chestnut eyes never leaves your form when your around. He's always undressing you with them, looking at you so lustfully that it was hard not to feel aroused.

"Always ready for me." Price mutters hoarsely, taking his time to push you down onto his aching shaft.

Your body shakes, the familiar stretch of his length parting your walls causing you to suck in air. He's massive; taking up space inside you as if he was meant to be there. You try to adjust yourself as quickly as possibly, hands finding perch on his shoulders, hips meeting his.

At first, Price seems like a patient man taking his time to really savor what's in front of him, but once he gets what he wants, he becomes insatiable.

Price starts off slow, thrusting gently, watching where the two of you are connected, biting down on his lip hungrily. Price never gets tired of seeing your puffy pussy lips devour his cock with such ease. It doesn't take him long to pick up pace, gripping your hips tightly, nails tearing your blouse.

Your body felt like a furnace set ablaze in the harshest of winter, the hotness of his body suffocating you despite being on top. You were unable to stop the breathy moan, leaving your lips, the head of his cock prodding at your cervix making you squeal out.

"The whole office will hear you." Price taunted against your skin, kissing and biting at the skin possessively, proudly watching your mouth fall open with pleasure.

You couldn't respond, and Price knew this.

He was an arrogant bastard; proudly fucking you in his office where the walls were thin and anyone walking by could see you split open on his sex.

Price lifts you up slightly, then slamming you back down onto him. Your toes curl and your walls clench around him greedily upon feeling him enter once more. He treats you like a mere doll for his amusement yet pays you handsomely just to get fucked day in and day out.

Not that you were complaining. It beats a regular 9 to 5.

"Mr. Price." You whined, angling your head for a kiss, eyes wide and pleading.

How could he resist when you're so compliant?

Price clicks his teeth, leaning down and kissing you feverishly, forcing your lips apart to taste you even further. He doesn't let up, jerking forward brutally, beginning his new savage pace, leaving you breathless as he chases his own high.

You're close too, being able to keep up with Price and his libido despite being used so often. Just as you were about to reach your peak, the sound of the door opening caught your attention, yet Price didn't stop. He simply looks up, seeing Simon stand there unfazed, fresh files in hand.

"Meeting in five." He states plainly, glancing over you, not caring about your current predicament.

Simon's words make Price's anger rise once more. He grumbles, rolling his eyes and pulling out of you swiftly, sitting you on his desk while ignoring your sweet pleas for him to continue.

"How long is it?" Price asks, tucking his semi-hard cock away, fixing himself up to look presentable.

"Two hours, possibly longer with what their asking for." Simon says, giving the papers a quick look over before handing it over to Price who looks as if he's about to snap.

"Fine, take care of her for me. It's part of your job now." Price gestures to you, sitting pretty, all whiney and pouty.

Simon raises a brow, turning to protest, but Price had already side-stepped him, leaving the two of you alone.

You look over at Simon, smirking mockingly, echoing Price's command, using your superiors' real name so carelessly. "Yeah, Simon, it's part of your job."

Simon remains silent for a moment, coldly sizing you up. Suddenly he steps forward and grabbing your face roughly, forcing you to look up at him and all of his dark eyes glaring down at you. "I ain't the old man, dollface. You'll see the difference soon enough."

Not proofread/kinda rushed

[jarofstyles]

Strawberry Sunrise

Helloooo. Welcome to part one of a short series I’m doing. I’ve been dying to do a sporty/ personal trainer sort of thing so I’ve picked this back up after abandoning it for a bit! Please leave feedback if this is something you’d like to see more of on here!

Check out our Patreon for early access to parts 2-3 and 180+ exclusive writings

Warnings- mention of stalking, consent, gym culture, men being creeps, smitten H, anxiety

WC- 3.8k

Harry had always enjoyed the gym.

The burn in his muscles was his release of choice, choosing to express his innermost emotions with working up a sweat as he ran miles on the treadmill, muscles straining as he lifted and knuckles sore as he worked the bag. He’d spend hours working out purely for enjoyment and release in his time off, not only for the burn but from the community surrounding it. That being said, it made a lot of sense that when he got tired early on in the corporate world, he decided to become a personal trainer. A really successful one at that- thankfully, considering his father had been very skeptical at the profession change.

Working at a higher end gym, the facilities always remained spotless. There was a sauna and steam room, an in-ground heated pool and jacuzzi room, lush locker rooms with wooden locker cubbies and provided locks and fluffy white towels, and even held a boxing ring on the bottom floor which he loved to spar in in his free time. It was in a refashioned warehouse, lux looking in a rustic way.

He built his career and clientele over the span of a few years and had gotten into the groove of it fairly quickly. Working with positive reinforcement and meditative breathing before and after each session, people found his presence calming and many trusted him to help get them to their potential- which he proudly did. His routine varied but it always ended the day with a smoothie from the smoothie bar run inside the lobby. Choco PB, Mango Delight, or a Strawberry Sunrise with extra protein were his go tos.

One of his new favorite parts about his job, though, was the new receptionist at the front desk. Y/N.

A complete and utter sweetheart who, for a lack of better words, was a breath of fresh air in the usually gruff, testosterone filled setting. He loved watching her chat, even more watching her politely reject the many customers who tried to get her number. She didn’t seem to have a clue just how alluring she was. Her beaming smile and saccharine little giggle that made his toes curl, he was crushing on her big time. If he wasn’t afraid to risk her feeling comfortable at the work environment by potentially rejecting him, he’d have asked her out already but it was only 4 months in and she was a hit with everyone. He didn’t want to be the reason she left. Most of the other trainers were in relationships or married so she had been safe and had a good relationship with them all as colleagues, though Harry liked to flirt with her lightheartedly. He could tell she got her a little flustered and the arrogant son of a bit in him fucking loved it.

But what he didn’t love, though, was when she hesitantly found him with teary eyes after locking the front door with shaky hands as closing time finished and it was just employees of the gym. Her face was pale, spooked and Harry was not a fan of. Fear didn’t suit her.

“Harry?” Her shaky voice whispered. “I don’t mean to bother you at all, but if- could you wait for me before you leave? There’s… there’s that one guy, one of Liam’s clients? He kept asking me out and he got mad that I really said no and he’s been waiting outside at closing time and I’m just-‘I’m scared and….”’a quiver of her lip made his chest ache while also burning in rage.

Something he hated more than anything was someone who couldn’t take no for an answer, more specifically men who couldn’t let their bruised ego be healed in private, lick their wounds and accept that they’d not gotten what they wanted. Instead they harassed the other person as if the fucking answer would change. But to do it to Y/N? He felt enraged.

“He did what?” His mouth parted in surprise, brows pulling together as his shoulders squared up. Sure enough he could see a car parked right outside the door with the lights off, but someone visibly inside. Y/N parked close to the building and he must have known that. “Fuck, Sweets. M’sorry.” He groaned. “Absolutely not acceptable. M’gonna make sure Liam knows and that he’s dropped as a member here but of course I’ll walk you out. Are you almost done?” His hand reached for her shoulder to give an appreciative squeeze, bare skin meeting his palm. She wore a tank top with the gym’s logo and yoga pants, her name tag taken off already.

“Yeah- I just have to shut down the computers and sweep the front. Is that okay?” Her teeth chewed nervously on her bottom lip. “I’m so sorry to keep you. I know you’ve had a long day and you have one tomorrow too, I just, I have a bad feeling and I’m scared. I wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t give me the creeps even before.”

Harry was vaguely familiar with the dude, mostly because he had snickered at Y/N’s polite attempt to tell him no to a date previously- but now, that wasn’t so funny. “Hey.” His thumb brushed over her skin. “Don’t apologize. I won’t hear it. Of course I’d do this for you, I care. I’d never let anyone be in danger, least of all you. You’re the best receptionist we’ve ever had and I’d be crushed if something happened to you. Everyone would.” Mostly him, though. His crush was real. However now wasn’t the time to deal with that.

“Thank you so much.” She sighed in relief, reaching up to squeeze his wrist. “I’ll only be a minute, okay? Just stand right there.”

And he did. He watched as she shut down the computers and grabbed the little broom to sweep up the little bits around the front desk, thanking Harry when he brought the trash can out from the front desk for her to pour the dust pan into. Her thanks was gracious, grabbing her keys and nervously following behind him as he made his way out first.

It seemed that the man hadn’t expected Harry to still be there, as he had parked further back in the lot. The look of surprise made Harry irritated as he directly went to the car, knocking on the window. The man hesitantly rolled it down a little bit, Harry’s arm braced on the hood as he leaned down to speak to him.

“Absolutely unacceptable.” He said straight. “She said no. Dunno what or how that translates to ‘wait for her after work to crowd and stalk her like a creep’, but let me spell it out for you.” His voice dropped lower. “You’re going to stay away from her. She isn’t available, not for you. You’re going to listen when women tell you no, and leave it fucking be. Know she’s a pretty thing but that doesn’t give you the right to follow her around.”

“What are you? Her boyfriend?” The man sneered, making Harry’s jaw clench. Was he dense? Truly?

“S’not your business who I am to her. All you need to know is that she isn’t on the market, stalking is unattractive and if you don’t leave her the fuck alone, I swear to you that there will be consequences. I’d suggest finding another gym, mate.” He patted the top of his car before pulling back, finding Y/N standing by the glass doors, wringing her hands. The look of relief on her face as Harry approached and the guy’s car peeled out of the lot made his anger worth every bit.

“Told ‘em off.” Adjusting the bag on his shoulder, he walked with her to her car and made sure she got her bag in. “Hey- let me follow you home, yeah? I’ll give you my number and you can text me if he bugs you again but I’d feel better knowing you got in safe and he isn’t out there waiting for you somewhere else.” He wouldn’t put it past an idiot like that.

“Normally I’d try to tell you no, but I can’t tell you how much that would mean to me.” Her body sagged in relief as she took him by surprise, taking him in for a hug. “Thank you so much. I was so scared he’d try to take me or something, I watch too much Criminal Minds or something but.” She shrugged, pulling back far too soon. It had taken him by surprise and he hadn’t had nearly enough time to appreciate her sweet smelling, warm body against his own.

“Anytime, Y/N. Seriously. Your safety is important to me.” More than she’s known. “Let’s get going, yeah? Know you had an emotional day.”

—-

Harry had driven her home, smiling and beeping once she had gotten inside her apartment building but waiting to drive off before he had gotten her little text of ‘ inside!!! :-)’

He spent the rest of the night trying to work away his anger, cooking a quick meal before heading off to bed. Y/N was too good for shit like that. He’d shot a text to Liam letting him know he told his client to fuck off and he’d help find another but was assured that it was a good loss anyways, which only helped ease him. The girl wouldn’t have to deal with it again.

He just hoped she would be okay.

—-

The next morning he was greeted by her smiling face, melting off the apprehension he had felt all morning. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail with two loose tendrils around her face, looking as cute as ever as she waved at him.

“Hi, Harry!” She chirped. “I’ve got a smoothie with your name on it when you’re ready for it later. Thank you again for helping me last night.” His membership card was quickly scanned and handed back. Her smile was infectious, making his own rise on the corner of his lips.

“Yeah? I’m glad to have helped. I’m here for anything y’need, Sweets.” If only she knew how far that could go for her. Maybe it was better she didn’t. He was really into her but he was hyper aware of how it could come off now, so he would proceed with caution. “I’ll hold you to the smoothie when m’on my lunch.”

For the first time in quite a while, Harry had a hard time concentrating on his sessions. Of course he poured himself into it as much as he could, but he couldn’t stop thinking about last night. How shaken up Y/N had been and how she had been so appreciative. He couldn’t help it, because he’d already had a crush on her and the fact that she trusted him enough to come to him for help made him really happy. He was also still mad that the man had crossed such big boundary and genuinely scared the hell out of probably the sweetest girl anyone’s met.

Being in his own head also explained why said girl scared the shit out of him, making him jump as he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. Jumping from the stool, he turned to a wide eyed Y/N and tore the earbuds out of his ears with a very, very embarrassing yelp. “Shit! Y/N, you scared me.”

As if it wasn’t obvious.

“I’m so sorry!” She peeped, hand over her mouth. “I said your name and I didn’t see you had in your earbuds. I’m so sorry.” Her babbling was very cute, but he didn’t want her to feel bad.

“It’s okay- just made me jump.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Shit, it’s my fault for sitting here with them on at work. You did nothing wrong.” His palm squeezed, making her shoulders relax just a bit. Thank god. There was no effort to remove it as he continued on, and no effort to step away from him. “Y’said something about a smoothie, yeah?”

His grin was probably a bit too big in regards to a smoothie but he hoped like hell that she would join him at the little tables they had set up. They were in the reception area, a bit public for his taste but considering what had happened last night he figured that was a better option than the break room. It was a delicate thing and he needed to go about it carefully. He really, really didn’t want to muck it up because his dick got ahead of his brain.

Although, she did look spectacular today, if he could say that.

“Yes! I was going to grab one too. What kind would you like?” One of the duties of the front desk people was to man the smoothie bar when needed. It wasn’t super demanding and the recipes were written out in a binder-

Harry would know because he’s had to do it before too- but she seemed to enjoy making them the times she’s done his. “I’m going for the Strawberry Sunrise and some energy boost.” Her hand squeezed his wrist before it was removed and she glided behind the bar, ponytail swaying as she did so.

“S’a good choice. Simple and effective.” He nodded in approval. “Think M’gonna go for… the chocolate peanut butter, if that’s alright?” His fingers drummed on the surface of the counter, slightly nervous habits showing when she was around. It was difficult to think. Even if he was this charming, charismatic, outgoing guy- he still got a bit flustered when talking to a pretty girl who was suspiciously angelic in looks and in appearance.

“Of course it’s okay.” Her laugh echoed in his ears. “I told you, it’s my way of saying thank you. Now sit and look pretty while I finish these.”

Harry was glad her back was turned because his face was most definitely flushed. Did she call him pretty? It seemed so. The man definitely didn’t go to the gym looking like a slob, but he had much better days outside of it. He liked to play around in fashion and the gym left little to experiment with unless he was okay with a sweat stain or ruining it. That’s why he wore cuter bandanas around his neck, or his stack of fabric bracelets that were meant to fall off. They were made of string and easily replaceable but they added color to his otherwise bland outfits he wore to keep from ruining his good outfits.

Apparently the last thing she had said was enough to keep him on his head until she finished, the large orange and white striped cup placed in front of him. “They’ve got to get rid of the styrofoam cups and do paper.”

Y/N sighed, looking at her own with a little frown. “I’ve suggested it but manager said we got to go through these before he’s gonna reorder. It’s only a few cents cheaper too, I was snooping on the order form.” She grumbled, making Harry smile. Y/N was known for her environmentalist tendencies and it only added to why he liked her. “Or, do like… have a bottle washing station and let us sell reusable cups with the gym logo and people can use those! Anything but these.” Leaning in closer to him, he caught her perfume as she let him in on a ‘secret’. “Plus, I fucking hate the sound of styrofoam. It makes my skin crawl. ASMR gone wrong.”

Harry swore he fell in love w little bit when she pulled back, laughing along with him as he nodded. She was fucking adorable and his hands itched to grab hold of that ponytail and keep her head still so he could kiss all over her face. Could you get cuteness aggression over another human?

“S’a great idea, actually.” He nodded, taking a sip with a hum. Y/N did the best smoothies. Shakes? He never was sure what to call them. “And you’re right. Styrofoam is awful for the environment and ears. I usually bring my water bottles every day but the amount of plastics we see here… S’a shame.”

“Exactly!” She slapped her hand on the counter. “It would only cost a little more to be more efficient. Do more water fountains so they don’t have to bring those plastic water bottles. Those are also on my hit list, when people crinkle those bottles…” her nose wrinkled in distaste, grabbing her cup and going around the counter. “Where did you want to sit, by the way?”

Harry’s heart grew three sizes, he thinks, when she was the one to initiate their time together. He’s been mulling it around in his mind, how to ask her to sit with him but apparently they were on the same page. “F’you want to sit out here we can, or we can go to the employee lounge. It’s your choice.”

“Do you mind if we go to the lounge? I had to talk to you about something, if you don’t mind.” It was then he could see her shifting nervously on her feet, cluing him in to something else. Was the guy still bothering her?

“Course we can. Lead the way.” He extended his hand, letting her lead as he tried to figure it out. Y/N was a somewhat nervous person by nature and he knew from watching her pick at her nails or bounce her leg, twirling her hair or rearranging pens often, but he didn’t like the idea of her nervous around him.

So when they sat down at one of the smaller tables in the empty lounge, he let his concerns be known. “Are you okay? You seem a little nervous.” He bumped his knee with hers, bringing the smoothie up to his mouth for a sip as he studied her face.

“Yeah! Yeah I just…” there was a pause, her nails dragging down the cup to make a pattern. “I couldn’t sleep very well last night. I felt really safe with you and I’m really grateful for your help- you’ve no idea. I was scared if end up in a ditch by the time anyone came in this morning but….”’her teeth worried her bottom lip. “I don’t want to have to rely on anyone else. You’re not always going to be here. And I know- I know the people here are very strong and bigger than me, most of them anyways- but I need a way to protect myself.” She took a big breath before the words rushed out. “Do you think you could help me with self defense? Even just a little bit, I can pay you or clean your house or something I just really….” Her frazzled expression broke his heart. “I don’t want to feel helpless again.”

He wanted to tell her that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. That he would stay every night and walk her to his car, that he would take care of her but the truth remained that he couldn’t always guarantee that for her. Sometimes he had to leave early, sometimes he had to stay later than her and it was just not possible. What she asked was absolutely the right thing, but he hated that she felt helpless.

“Y/N.” He crooned. “Of course I will. It’s not even a question, I’d be more than willing to help you out.” She must really not know his crush on her if she couldn’t see how he was mentally tripping over himself at the idea of spending time with her. It would be a double win. She could help herself and he could spend time with her alone. “I want to say M’really fucking sorry that men are shit and that you even have to worry. If I’m here when you’re getting off of work, which I usually am, I’m more than happy to walk you to your car, but I understand.

I hate that you feel helpless. You’re a lot stronger than y’give yourself credit for.” His hand reached for the one laying on the table top, holding it a lot more confidently than he felt. She squeezed it back, though, so a win was a win! “We’ll have t’do it after hours, though, if that’s alright? Just stay a bit longer after work. My days are really full right now and I know you’re working most days here so it’ll have to be a weird schedule but you don’t need to pay me a cent. Let me do this for you for my own peace of mind, yeah?” His eyes searched her face, like he was trying to find an answer for a question he didn’t know. “Was worried out of my head last night about you.”’

Y/N seemed to visibly relax, a smile growing on her soft little lips and her entire energy moving to a warmer one. What he didn’t expect, though, was for her to throw herself into his lap for a big hug. Y/N had always been touchy, but he never thought he’d end up with a lap full of the prettiest girl he’d ever seen whispering her thanks as her face tucked into his neck.

God, he hoped he smelled decent.

His arm wrapped around her as he clumsily put his drink down in surprise, stroking her back as she squeezed him tight- and it was like a dream. Soft body against his own and engulfed in her scent? He was happy if she never moved from here. Unfortunately she did, peeling herself up and her beaming smile making him melt. “Thank you, thank you so fucking much. You can have anything you want in return. You don’t have to think of it kow but… I trust you the most here.” She admitted, clamoring back into her seat. “You’re the coolest, H. Thank you again. When can we start?”

Harry knew he was in trouble when he wanted to cancel the rest of his day and offer it to her. She’d sent him through a wind tunnel of wild thoughts and his body was still reeling from having her so close, but he had to try and hold it together.

“Why don’t we start tomorrow?” He offered. “But be prepared to work up a sweat.”

[mrrharper]

Desperation In College

Mike needed to change his life. With his third year of college beginning, he felt like he was wasting his valuable time on Earth. No friends, no real hobbies, no plan for the future. He was passing classes and progressing through his degree thanks to inertia alone.

So it was no surprise that when he saw a bizarre ad online for a pair of "life changing" underwear, he bought it instantly. 24 hours later a package arrived and he eagerly opened it. Inside he saw a jockstrap with the words Under Armour clearly visible. For a moment he doubted what he read on the advertisement - it was only a pair of underwear, and a type he never bought or wore himself. But he shrugged these doubts off, saying to himself that it wouldn't hurt trying them on.

For the next two days he wore only the UA jockstrap. It took a moment getting used to being so exposed underneath his pants, but... it was fine after a while. As the second full day was coming to an end Mike noted that his life has not yet experienced a "dramatic, 180 degrees turn you need to experience". But it was still a decent pair of underwear.

It was dark outside and he contemplated going to bed, but realized he hadn't jerked off in a while, and thus had some pent up horny energy within him. He sat down on his bed and leaned against the wall. Then he started massaging his member through the jockstrap with his left hand and looking for his phone with his right. But before he did, he felt a weird sensation around his bulge. As his cock got harder, the material around it began moving and after just a few seconds it looked like Mike's jockstrap was rubbing itself against his dick, jacking him off. The waves of pleasure that hit Mike immediately after, completely overwhelming him.

The jockstrap sped up its movements and Mike closed his eyes, experiencing pure bliss. While his senses were on the verge of shutting down he did not see his whole body quickly inflating, bulk appearing everywhere. His arms and legs got thicker, his pecs turned into meaty pillows, his stomach muscles appeared underneath them, veins popped out on his shoulders and neck.

Mike's hand instinctively moved towards his bulge and he began helping his seemingly sentient jockstrap in massaging his cock, which throughout this transformation got at least 3 inches longer.

With this much stimulation it didn't take long before Mike experienced the most intense orgasm of his life, cum covering his dick, which was tightly enclosed by the jockstrap. He slowly stood up, his mind mostly blank. He went into the bathroom and the moment he saw himself in the mirror, a cocky grin appeared on his face and he began flexing his newly acquired muscles.

The thing was, for him they were not "newly acquired" because Mike no longer existed. In his place was MJ, vice president of the Alpha Psi Delta fraternity, known by everyone on campus. He was a star receiver on the football team who never showed up to class. Instead, he spent time banging as many chicks as he could in empty rooms. Then at night, he had his ass pounded by a few of his frat bros, of course after proudly saying the phrase "no homo", which was then followed by some aggressive anal sex. He was dumb as a pile of rocks, frequently violent, arrogant and crude, a cocky grin always on his face.

He was exactly the same as all of his bros, basically a copy of every other jock on campus. And he absolutely loved it.

[enha-doodles]

ENHYPEN REACTION TO YOU FANGIRLING OVER SOME OTHER CELEBRITY | ✧⁺。

Pairing : (all members) x reader

Note : ksksksk writing something for enhypen after sooo long , felt good . The nostalgia is real but then i remember my cringey writing - so grateful I improved . I wanna write a yandere one next so plz send requests guys !!!

Warnings : not proofread , lame humour

LEE HEESEUNG

Heeseung pouts dramatically as he watches you fangirl over the celebrity, feeling a surge of jealousy bubbling up inside him. "What about me?" he whines, his voice taking on an adorable whiny tone, complete with puppy-dog eyes that could melt even the coldest heart. With shiny sparkling eyes, he attempts to rotate your attention back to him, pulling you into a tight hug and peppering your face with playful kisses, all in a bid to reclaim his status as your number one fan.

PARK JONGSENG

Jay can't help but feel a twinge of annoyance as he watches you fangirl over the celebrity, but he's determined to keep it lighthearted. Hugging you tightly, he rolls his eyes with exaggerated flair, muttering under his breath about the celebrity's questionable talent. "He's not even that good," he grumbles, though his playful smirk betrays his true feelings. "But he kinda looks like me, right?" With a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, he pulls you closer, stealing a quick kiss before diving into his own hilarious imitation of the celebrity's signature moves.

SIM JAYEUN

Jake grins from ear to ear as he watches you fangirl over the celebrity, thrilled to have found a fellow fan in you. "Oh yeah, you have that album? Well, too bad I have the signed one!" he boasts, flashing you a cheeky grin. With an air of playful competition, he launches into a spirited debate about who the bigger fan is, all in good fun. "You may have met him once, but I once waited in line for six hours just to catch a glimpse of him from afar!" he declares proudly, earning a playful eye-roll from you in response.

PARK SUNGHOON

Sunghoon can't resist teasing you mercilessly as he watches you fangirl over the celebrity, reveling in your adorable excitement. "Looks like there's competition for me," he quips with a smug grin, though there's a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. With exaggerated arrogance, he strikes a series of ridiculous poses, parodying the celebrity's trademark moves in a bid to steal back your attention. "Who needs him when you've got me, right?" he says with a playful wink, pulling you into a goofy dance that leaves you both doubled over with laughter.

KIM SUNOO

Sunoo adopts a sassy demeanor as he observes your fangirling, determined not to let the celebrity steal your attention away from him. "Okay, but have you seen how cute I am?" he jokes, his eyes sparkling with mischief. With a playful toss of his hair, he launches into a hilarious impression of the celebrity, complete with exaggerated gestures and an over-the-top accent that leaves you giggling uncontrollably. "I may not have millions of followers, but I've got charm for days!" he declares proudly, flashing you a dazzling smile that melts your heart on the spot.

YANG JUNGWON

Jungwon laughs good-naturedly at your fangirling, though he can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy deep down. "Looks like you've found a new crush," he chuckles, though there's a hint of wistfulness in his tone. With a playful wink, he pulls you into a tight hug, planting a sweet kiss on your cheek saying "but it'll always be me right?" to remind you that he's the only celebrity you need in your life.

NISHIMURA NI-KI

Ni-Ki's jealousy reaches peak levels as he watches you fangirl over the celebrity, his playful demeanor giving way to a hilarious mix of envy and frustration. "Ugh, he's so smug. I hate him," he mutters under his breath, his annoyance palpable. "Why are you even looking at him? Have you seen his hairstyle? That was me back in my school days." (as if bro ever went to school💀💀) With an exaggerated eye-roll, he launches into a comedic rant about the celebrity's questionable fashion choices, determined to prove once and for all that he's the only one worthy of your admiration.

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　 　 　。

[choerypetal]

Love at first Sight / Billy The Kid

summary : billy assumed the role of your father's right-hand man, working for a man rooted in tradition and possessing a distasteful approach toward women, especially you. as he engaged in conversations with his boss expressing displeasure regarding you, billy found himself increasingly interested in you. your situation, bound by an arranged marriage to the mayor's son—a union you adamantly rejected—created a unique backdrop. It was during a specific event that billy had the opportunity to meet your father's daughter, and in that moment, he became a firm believer in the existence of love at first sight. this entire journey began with his enduring fascination with the scent of your perfume back at your mother's stable.

ps : english is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes and grammar errors. please don't copy my work without giving proper credit. thank you!

Billy never experienced a genuine sense of belonging, whether he was away or striving to improve the situation for his family. He was acutely aware of society's treatment of outliers. As the affluent men from the village strolled through the suburbs, they, too, recognized the presence of criminals in their midst, and Billy found himself among them. And yet, he blended himself quite well with the wealth too. 

Although you had expected to be the new talk of the town, an arranged marriage with the mayor's son was not on your list of future goals. Furthermore, being wedded to an arrogant individual who was well aware that it was merely a strategic move, and behind closed doors, he had no qualms about bringing his mistress into the same house, was beyond anything you had envisioned. Especially considering that if you had dared to do the same, your father would unleash his fury and shame at dawn, calling you the same names he had directed at your mother. She, in a desperate attempt, had reluctantly embraced the notion of marriage solely to preserve the family legacy. 

"She will marry him, no questions asked." Uttered your father, the day before the marriage. And even in this assertion, it was the most affectionate sentiment he could muster towards his wife. Over time, you began to harbor suspicions that he, too, maintained a relationship outside the confines of home. In contrast to your newly arranged husband, your father, at least, displayed a modicum of dignity and refrained from entirely demeaning his wife in the presence of someone he found more alluring. 

While the mere rumor of the mayor's son getting married spread, it didn't take long for the news to reach even those living close to your mansion. It was an announcement that resonated beyond the village. Citizens from the village, including yourself, were invited to celebrate this new union. Despite wanting to find humor in the irony of the situation, you found yourself gazing at your reflection in the mirror that very morning. Your hair was styled more meticulously than usual, and your maid affectionately applied a touch of powdered blush on your cheeks, suggesting that you should also apply a shade of red to your lips—apparently, your husband's favorite color. However, this notion raised suspicions that he might have mentioned it merely as a reminder of his own extramarital affair. 

On the contrary, Billy found himself deeply engrossed in his pursuit of a plan to earn money and provide for his family back home. What he failed to mention was that he had been working for a member of your family since the very beginning. However, he soon found himself bewildered, troubled by the revelation that your father had a daughter. Despite being accustomed to your father's often proudly expressed family affairs, what offended Billy the most was the notion of witnessing such a beautiful girl tethered to a man he could hardly bear to part with—your new husband. 

As your father's right-hand man, Billy was privy to more information than he probably should have been. He spent countless hours in conversations, observing how your new husband seemed enamored with the notion of having you as his wife. He openly entertained the idea that his mistress was even more alluring, describing her in rather explicit terms. This perspective left Billy contemplating the disdain these two men harbored—not only for their wealth but also for their audacity in talking about  you with so much filth coming from their mouth. 

Unbeknownst to both of you, there was a transparent tension in the air. Your father, having the audacity, warned Billy to tread carefully. "She's a spicy one, you know." He casually remarked one night at the pub, with your mother expressing concern over your father's prolonged absence. "She could make any man fall in love, a seductress she is." The words of your husband tempted Billy to rise and deliver a punch to his face, but he understood that such an act would cost him his job. Driven by the determination to catch a glimpse of your beautiful face on your wedding day, he suppressed his impulse. "You seem quiet tonight, boy." Your father's voice resonated in Billy's already agitated mind. Despite his initial disdain for the man who employed him, this time, Billy managed a smile. Aware that alcohol had taken its toll on the two affluent men, he began to entertain the thought that perhaps even the most sought-after criminal could outsmart every wealthy aristocrat, including your father and your husband.

As the reality of today being the wedding day sank in, you were expected to catch a glimpse of your husband before the ceremony. How mistaken you were when you decided to step out for a breath of fresh air. Suppressing tears, you tried not to panic at the thought of soon saying "Yes" to your husband, officially binding yourself to him. It was at that moment that Billy saw you in full. Carrying out a discreet surveillance as per your father's instructions, he had to halt his horse to avoid causing a disturbance in your courtyard. Dressed in his customary attire, a matching hat and blouse with his curls peeking through, he stood under the humid weather. His piercing blue eyes locked onto your silhouette. In that moment, Billy realized that love at first sight was indeed a reality. 

Your thoughts were consumed by anxiety as you made every effort not to appear completely distraught. Amidst the constant pressure to present perfection, a seemingly inconsequential decision loomed large, poised to alter your life entirely. You were on the verge of declaring your desire to escape this distressing situation forever. If it weren't for your mother's insistence on keeping her daughter by her side, you might have left the wretchedness long before venturing into the wilderness. It was during this tumultuous time that the sound of a horse approaching caught your attention, guided to a halt. A boy of your age emerged, and there was a sense that he might be an outlaw in the employ of your husband's family. His gentle gaze met yours, prompting you to approach cautiously. "May I help you?" You inquired, hoping your recent tears had dried by this point, and the dryness in your voice was simply a result of dehydration. 

"I reckon I should be askin' you the same question, darlin'." The accent hinted that the boy hailed from the South. A man of his demeanor might be viewed with disdain or seen as one who relishes the rugged existence of the wilderness as a mere challenge. However, his mannerisms suggested that this same man was well-acquainted with the nomadic lifestyle. Perhaps, if you were an unattached lady with enough daring in your spirit to break free, you could run away—with or without a total stranger—just as long as it meant being far away from home. "Billy's the name. Your father hired me to be..." He paused momentarily, conscious of your father's confession the previous night about you being the woman he envisioned. However, Billy wanted to witness it with his own eyes and found himself captivated by your subtle vulnerability and the fearlessness you displayed in conversing with someone of lesser means, not to mention a criminal. "His right-hand man. I reckon we haven't been properly introduced. You must be Y/N.” 

Your eyes widened in shock, almost in disbelief, though it wasn't entirely surprising that your father would enlist someone to handle his less savory tasks. It wasn't until today's events that you truly learned about the man your father had only briefly mentioned, leaving you to think he was nothing more than an urban legend. Considering the amount of alcohol in his system, you were hardly surprised. Yet, there he stood—the man your father boasted about during lengthy dinners with his men: Billy the Kid. A figure with a shrewd skill for shooting intruders without hesitation, coupled with a charming demeanor. "I am..." You confessed, your admiration for his demeanor evident as you approached. You became conscious of the horse, realizing it was from your mother's stable. "She's been fed properly." Billy remarked, noting your gesture as you began to caress the braided hair of Billy's horse—a routine you had always done, realizing it was all along the horse reserved for him. "Love the braids, by the way." 

His compliment sent a warm flush to your cheeks. "I've always wanted to know the owner's skill in braiding. I wanted to thank them, but a little bird told me it was someone's daughter who's about to get married. And upon hearing that, I was sad to hear such news." Among all the men you had encountered in your life, something distinctive resonated in Billy, acknowledging the small gesture. He was aware of your presence only at the wrong times and different hours, lamenting the missed opportunity of not meeting you sooner, especially after learning the news of you becoming a recognized wife.

The news struck Billy deeply. In all honesty, he meant every word he spoke. He realized it was merely a matter of being there at the right time, and he could have been the one to offer you in marriage. The thought of heritage and the possibility of being dismissed due to your father's demise didn't concern him. Billy began to believe that if you had been with him all along, you could have been a free lady. Unlike many men in the wilderness, he would have treated you as the woman you were meant to be—a princess in his eyes. Cheating, for him, was a sin. Despite his own involvement in many crime, he was determined not to tolerate disloyalty and would damn well wage a war against any men who prioritized their sins over loyalty. 

"I—" You were so taken aback by Billy's sudden interest that unfamiliar feelings stirred within you, emotions you hadn't experienced in a long time. You had convinced yourself that love was a distant memory, and the idea of loving your own husband seemed utterly ridiculous. "Y/N! The ceremony is about to start!" Your mother's voice interrupted, drawing attention to Billy's presence. A formal smile appeared on her face, indicating that they knew each other long before you did. After all, he was involved in your father's business, and your father was adept at keeping his affairs away from you. "Billy." Your mother called out his name, prompting a respectful bow from him. "Miss." He acknowledged. "I'll leave you two ladies for the preparations, going back to duty." He announced, to which your mother responded. "Oh, you know you're always welcomed, boy. We even kept a plate for you. You're family." 

"You're family." The words echoed in your mind as your mother gently took your arm, guiding you back inside to try on your wedding dress. Before stepping fully inside, you stole a final glance at Billy. He acknowledged your gaze with a brief nod, and you could have sworn you saw a soft smile, implying that everything was going to be okay. 

But it didn't. The marriage turned out to be a complete spectacle. The meticulously arranged plates, with the white and red combination your husband had chosen, were even more distasteful than the concept of marriage itself. Despite having said "Yes," anticipating your father's intense gaze throughout the entire wedding, you were proven wrong. To no one's surprise, after a few drinks, he was already drunk and couldn't care less. However, you sensed someone's gaze shifting entirely from your mother to you from afar. It was Billy's gaze, his usual blue eyes looking at you so lovingly that he began to curse himself for not being the fortunate man to propose. "Don't they make a loving pair," your mother would say to him, although it was only for show. Your mother had shown signs of concern that your husband had already found a mistress back at home. She wanted to ensure that you felt the love your husband supposedly felt for the other ladies, and that man turned out to be Billy.

You came to the realization that throughout dinner, you had been putting on a façade, performing an act solely to appease the affluent company. The discomfort gradually intensified until it manifested as a nauseating twist in your stomach, making it impossible to consume such an excessive amount of food in such a short span. The moment your husband, adorned with a forced smile and a trace of alcohol on his breath, attempted to lean in, you swiftly rose from your seat. A disconcerting sensation lingered as you tried to evade his touch. Meanwhile, you couldn't help but notice Billy's unwavering gaze, indicating his awareness that something was amiss. True to his character as a loyal confidant, he patiently bided his time until you excused yourself, following suit shortly after. However, Billy's departure did not go unnoticed by your father, who inquired about his early exit. "Just need some fresh air." Was Billy's offered explanation.

Only upon reaching the back door did your eyes well up with tears, the very tears you had struggled desperately to conceal both before and after the wedding. As you brushed your fingers against a ring that didn't rightfully belong to you, an overwhelming desire to scream surged within. The pain and desperation begged for an outlet, a release, but no words emerged. Collapsing to your knees, vulnerability engulfed you completely. 

Billy trailed behind, intending to afford you some privacy and a moment alone. However, what he hadn't anticipated was stumbling upon you in such a distressed state. Witnessing you in such a condition was beyond his comprehension. It was inconceivable for him to imagine seeing someone as beautiful and wise as you in such turmoil, especially considering that even his own boss, your father, would allow such a fate. You only became aware of his presence when the rhythmic thud of boots on the wooden planks reached your ears near the back door. Swiftly turning around, you flinched at the sudden noise, relieved to find it was only Billy, signaling there was no need for concern. “Woah there Darlin’. It’s just me…” 

The casual and frequent use of "Darling" as a term of address by you was a mannerism you couldn't envision any other man adopting. The way he effortlessly and elegantly incorporated it into his speech hinted at an attraction that went beyond mere details. It was apparent that he harbored a profound desire to get to know you better, suggesting a possibility of rediscovering the love you believed was lost. This, of course, hinged on your continued role as a dutiful wife to your husband. However, Billy had his own agenda and plans in motion. That you would come with him, back home. 

Your hands strained to reach out, desperate for a connection or anything tangible that could restore the emotions you longed to feel. You yearned to be loved for the woman you truly were, not merely a decorative statue to be admired at someone else's convenience. "Hey—" He noticed your discomfort, limping in an attempt to maintain the facade of perfection. "Shh... Come here." His arms tenderly encircled your waist, a stark contrast to his robust frame, displaying a genuine fear of causing harm. A true gentleman, he was. As he caught the scent of your delicate perfume, a vivid memory surfaced—the first time he encountered it was when your father had gifted him his retired horse. That same fragrance lingered in the horse's mane. Back then, he couldn't put a face to the scent, but now, he was fortunate to not only have a face to associate it with but also a person to cherish. 

"I feel so disgusted... A woman with a husband should not sin." You confessed to him, torn between the desire to have Billy all to yourself and the looming temptation. The notion of love at first sight seemed undeniable, but Billy, with genuine concern, attempted to steer you away from such thoughts. "And let your husband be with that whore back home without even worrying about his own wife? I call that bullshit." His Southern accent became more pronounced, his breath closer beneath your face, and his eyes gleaming in the bright sun of the wilderness. "I wouldn't mind making the husband regret something." He added nonchalantly. 

Tilting your head, your gaze was solely fixed on him. "And what sort of action do you propose to make my husband regret so profoundly?" You teased him with a hushed tone. This banter was a familiar game for you, reminiscent of the numerous long dinners accompanying your father, where many men sought your hand in marriage. Yet, all those efforts went to waste, leading your father to plead with you to consider marrying the mayor's son. "Will you love me the way you're looking at me right now?" You inquired, playfully challenging. 

"I'll do whatever it takes." He asserted confidently, his thumb tracing the line of your chin, lifting it gently to meet your gaze. Your eyes momentarily wandered to the slightly exposed chest, a sight he might have deliberately unveiled for your eyes only. "Anything within my power to claim you as mine. Even if the consequences become their own, I'm willing to make you feel at home once again."

The notion of feeling at home had eluded you for quite some time, a sensation you hadn't experienced in what felt like an eternity. The concept of home seemed so distant that even your own residence became something almost unfathomable, much like the tears that had once dried only to resurface now. It occurred to you that perhaps Billy was the man you had longed to find in your life. If not for that realization, you would be compelled to thank your father for hiring Billy during that critical moment. Fortunately for both of you, Billy shared the same fervor to bring you home with him, even if it meant sneaking out or feigning vacations. 

“Wouldn’t, they suspect of my absent? My husband could care less anyway…” Billy chuckled slightly at the irony of the situation. Something he too found oddly ironic by the subject of you being the object of another wedding that in the end was only to keep the money aligned. “I might have a few tricks up to my sleeve, darlin’. How do we say? By dawn tomorrow? I’ll come pick you up.” 

As you contemplated the excuse, fully aware that you would scrutinize it, he pressed on. "Mother said she'll keep this a secret. She mentioned you'd been in contact with a distant cousin, and the plan was for you to spend a few weeks there and such. Oddly enough, your husband didn't seem to mind and even agreed." Your eyes registered disbelief. Did you hear correctly? Your mother? The same mother who appeared so vulnerable and hesitant, had orchestrated everything behind your father’s back. She was likely cognizant of Billy's admiration for you since his initial visit to the stable, where he expressed a desire to confront your father whenever he spoke of you in a distasteful manner. 

"I promised her that I'd protect you and play the part of an unsuspecting ally upon returning to your husband. Your father tasked me with being your right-hand man this time, but it seems our luck had something even more significant in store." He confessed with softened eyes. A part of you yearned to embrace him, to acknowledge and reciprocate his admiration. However, your gaze shifted to his lips, a desire he sensed had been lingering since your first meeting. Without hesitation, he gently held your chin with one hand, drawing your lips closer to his, fully immersing both of you in a passionate kiss. It was a kiss you had no intention of ending, a kiss that spoke of love—something noticeably absent in your husband's crude and repulsive attempts to win your favor. “Mine…” You whispered so softly, begging for more kisses through it all. 

“Mine forever… Señorita.”