#reading every quest text
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l-alan-l · 5 months ago
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Strangely TWW feels like playing Legend of Zelda
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backpackingspace · 3 months ago
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I am once again thinking about how odysseus who witnessed the horrors that the captured women went through (one of his main duties in the iliad was taking the women back home and making sure they were as comfortable as possible and safe because he was the only one trusted not to violate them further due to his devotion to penelope. And in the odyssey part of the reason circe sent him to the underworld was so that he'd have to listen to all these women's stories (before he could talk to the prophet) ). Who was one of the few that saw women as people and respected their space and opinions. And was then put in those exact same situations. I don't have the motivation right now to do a full literary analysis of this (I'll site the sources too) but oh man one day I'm going to write a full essay on this.
#The odyssey#iliad#Odysseus#Tw: rape#Tw: sex slaves#Tw: camp slaves#Tw: That one time Calypso kept odysseus as a sex slave for 7 years#circe#Something about the inherent trauma of witnessing how your friends treat women#Watching them keep sex slaves#Then having to bring these girls home hearing about their stories seeing the aftermath#Then living in a situation where you have to let a powerful witch use you as she pleases half in payment for lives/food/medicine#Half because she has the equivalent of a gun to your best friends head and if you don't keep her happy then youre all dead#And then that witch sends you on a quest to the underworld where granted you'll benefit too but first#You have to listen to every single captured women from the Trojan war that you didn't Shepard home tell you their stories#Tell you that you're a horrible person while you are living in a disturbingly similar situation#And then later finding yourself trapped as a sex slave for seven years to an immortal nymph#And then being labeled as a horrible cheater for the rest of history#And none of this well historically everybody cheated or it's up to interpretation bullshit#Because it fucking isn't and granted a lot of abridged versions skip this shit#But if you read the full original stories and still think odysseus cheated then you just have an issue with men being victims#Or weren't paying attention i guess#Where's that meme where's it like the text was up to interpretation cut to the text where it very bluntly states what's happening#And I'm not saying odysseus was a good person or that he didn't have slaves because he did. And he wasnt#But first off nobody deserves to suffer that violation#Second they weren't sex slaves they were all nurses/maids/spys and I'm not getting into the ancient culture slavery issues rn#Third there's a lot you can pick to hate odysseus for but cheating/disrespecting women wasn't one of them#They literally invented a new word to describe his and penelopes love and it means to be so in love that you think the exact same way#Also forcing this narrative of odysseus cheating and penelope leaving to be a single girl boss is#Just the fake feminist mindset that stay at home moms are weak and wrong and live awful lives
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silusvesuius · 4 months ago
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my nelvas and moraak thought crumblets
#text#eaaaaaaaaaasy Peasy#actually i'm upset now because i had to read at least some things m*raak says during DB quest and omfggggg the absolute snoozefest that is#- his character i'm actually knocked out and drooling on my pillow#the fact that he has fans is solely bc he's pushed to the forefront as the big bad. cus he has goldfish IQ and idk.. personality of -#- some pebbles in reality#the only good thing to come out of his existence is The sexxxxxxy ass fact that mora protected him (and then decided to marinate him)#i think he falls flat badly just cause he doesn't have something to fall back on; idk how to describe it tho#i think making the Big Bad the character who is 5000+ but was dormant and useless all the time is um..... it was a choice#idk what's up with him but his character doesn't even have the value it should theoretically#Nah that's crazy bc why does t*lvas have a more interesting personality from like 10 voicelines than that abortion#but i'm not mad cus t*lvas is superior to every other character on that island like i mean it#mostly cus he bounces off n*loth's personality really well. to Me#this might just be my personal bias tho bc i do only like characters that are down-to-earth and 'normal people' more than the ones that r -#- very overblown to the point where they're just marvel villains#i would rather lsiten to some working class elf serving dinner at a political gathering than to anything m*raak has to whine about#i remember saying the same things about m*raak like 2 years ago when i didn't talk much and someone pointed me to a mod or smth and -#- like 🤦‍♀️ no offense but maybe i will actually take whatever happened in canon over the shakespearian Dookie the fans will be writing -#- about him#i think there's no point in building a bigger and impactful backstory or motives to him if in canon he was meant to be ass#'meant' as in it turned out to be ass#cus i don't actually believe sk*rim characters are rly that much very 'Badly written' really.. and there are things to dig out of what -#- a character has#and if one of them has nothing pleaselet him die . No i'm jk
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lem-argentum · 3 months ago
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APPARENTLYYY i am going to have to learn mahjong
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btw this is a preston garvey love and appreciation blog. if you hate preston you will die by my blade.
MINUTEMAN BLAST
#thewitchbitches#this is my first text post in a very long time lmao#but anyway i fucking love characters that are good and hopeful even when the world gives them no reason to be#who are kind and will fight tooth and nail to make the world a little brighter every day#not because theyre naive or havent experienced pain#but because they know things can be better#also especially love and relate to like. him being depressed and passively suicidal#and his only reason to keep going being that little tiny spark of compassion and hope#that tiny bit of light that says that you can still help someone. going forward just for that#and just#him feeling like he has nothing after the fall of quincy but still leading the survivors to safety#because he is a GOOD LEADER#he cares about the people under his protection and he stays strong for them#if there was any justice in this fuckin world thered have been a quest to retake quincy#and preston would have been the leader of the minutemen#he always sticks to his morals and stands up for the right thing#plus once you help him open up and remember life is worth living hes a good friend and a funny guy?#also settlement quests are fun#sorry that your biggest complaint about a character is that he (checks notes) asks you to do your job and help people#just idk i love reading through his voice lines theyre so good#when you hurt your limbs he says stuff like 'dont worry i wont leave you'#and all his lines for locations like 'one day children will play here again' and 'reminds you the world can still be a beautiful place'#his relentless optimism even when he ADMITS that he doesnt want to live is so fucking good#and hes SMART hes DISCIPLINED his kindness and idealism never take away from that#also#he has a cool hat
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untamedcourage · 9 months ago
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maybe i can defeat queen gibdo but i still cannot defeat the short allegations unfortunately
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wp100 · 1 year ago
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so funny how people are like "i want more dark themes in wow" when the final boss of the expansion has screaming burning night elf souls (i assume from the burning of teldrassil) that you have no choice but to kill
i think that's dark imo. Also Alexstrasza's backstory exists. But they want *more* of that, which is... disturbing as fuck (hoo boy remember that quest they added with the time rift patch where you just ... leave? Alexrstrasza to be assaulted and characters made JOKES about it like holy fuck that was bad, and this was at the same time the lawsuit shit was going on too. it was REALLY really bad)
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jennaflare · 6 months ago
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So Disco Elysium is the only game you've ever really liked
I get it! It's a phenomenal game with superb art and writing, and its themes are consistent and deeply explored. It sets a high bar for video games. But there are other really, really fantastic games out there. This is a list that is 100% my own taste of things that aren't necessarily similar, other than the fact that they're really fucking good. (A lot of these are on sale for the Steam Summer Sale until July 11 2024!)
In Stars and Time
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In Stars and Time is a time loop game where you play as Siffrin, the rogue of a party at the end of their quest to save the day by defeating the King, who is freezing everybody in time! But something is wrong: every time you die, you loop back to the day before you fight the King. You're the only one who remembers the loops, so it's up to you to figure out why it's happening, and how to break out.
In Stars and Time is a heart-wrenching dive into mental health, friendship, and love. It's about feeling alone, and how awful it is when the people who love you don't notice (and how awful it is when they do). It's about falling deeper and deeper into your worst self and your worst tendencies, and how to come back from it.
The creator also did one of my favorite Disco Elysium comics ever, which is only tangentially relevant but worth mentioning.
Roadwarden
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In Roadwarden, you play as the titular Roadwarden for an undeveloped and "wild" part of the kingdom. Monsters roam the forests and roads, and it's your job to keep people safe. On paper, anyway. Your real mission is to find out what is of value in the area, and how to take it from its people. How well you perform this task is up to you. It's an oldschool text-based RPG, and I take a lot of notes by hand when I play.
Roadwarden explores exploitation and industrialization by making you look in the face of your potential victims. You can only learn what your bosses want you to report on by getting close to the residents, after all. There are mysteries to be solved, secrets to be gathered, and hearts to win.
The Longing
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The Longing is an adventure-idle game where you play as the solitary servant of a sleeping king. Your task is to wait for him, for four hundred days. Time in the game passes in realtime (for the most part). There are caves to explore, books to be read, and drawings to make.
The Longing is about loneliness and depression. It's about whether or not you decide to stay in that hole, and if you do, what you do with yourself while you're there. Maybe you'll wander. Maybe you'll stare at a wall. Maybe you'll just sleep until it's all over.
Papers, Please
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Papers, Please casts you as a newly hired customs officer in a country that is rapidly tightening its borders as its fascist government tightens its fist. This game is stressful. Sometimes you intend to help out the revolutionaries when they asked, but then you got so stressed out trying to make your quota so you can feed your family and pay your bills that you didn't notice the name of the person they were hoping to contact while going through their papers. Sometimes someone puts a bomb in front of you and expects you to defuse it. Sometimes someone suggests you steal people's passports so you can get your family out, and with the horror you see daily, the idea tempts you more than you'd like.
Papers, Please is all about hard choices and testing your moral fortitude. Everything you do has consequences. Being a good person in this game is hardly ever rewarded, but not in a way that feels overly cynical. Papers, Please asks you what kind of person you want to be and what you're willing to sacrifice to get there.
The Return of the Obra Dinn
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From the creator of Papers, Please, The Return of the Obra Dinn is a game where you play as an insurance investigator for the East India Trading Company. The ship the Obra Dinn has just floated back into port, its entire crew missing or dead. It's your job to figure out what happened aboard the vessel. For insurance reasons.
I don't know how to go into the themes of this too deeply without giving away too much, but the mechanics of the game itself make the game worth playing. You have a magic stopwatch that allows you to go back to the moment of a person's death, allowing you to try and figure out who (or what) killed them, and how. And the soundtrack is extremely good.
Outer Wilds
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In Outer Wilds you play as an unnamed alien, and it's your first day going to space! Your planet's space program is pretty new still, so there's still lots to explore and discover on the planets within your system. There are ancient ruins from a mysterious race that once lived in your system, long before your species began to record history. Why were they here? Where did they go? How are they connected to the weird thing that keeps happening to you?
The fun of Outer Wilds is in the discovery and answering your own questions. The game never tells you where to go, and it never outright tells you anything. There are clues scattered through the system, and it's up to you to put them together and figure out your next steps. It's about the way that life always goes on, no matter what, even when it seems like the end of everything, forever. I'd recommend NOT reading anything else about this game. Just go play it. Seriously, the less you know, the more fun this is.
If on a Winter's Night, Four Travelers
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In If on a Winter's Night, Four Travelers, you explore the circumstances of the deaths of four individuals.
This is a short one that took me about two and a half hours to play. If for no other reason, play it for the stunning pixel art. The game explores sexism, racism, and homophobia in the Victorian era and leans heavily into horror themes. Best of all: it's completely free!
Pentiment
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Pentiment takes you to the 16th century, where you take the role of Andreas Maler, a journeyman artist working on his masterwork in the scriptorium of an abbey. When someone is murdered, Andreas takes responsibility for finding the culprit.
The game is set over 20~ years and you get to watch how Andreas' actions affect the village in various ways (who's alive the next time you come by, have people gotten married and had children...). It's an exploration of how the past affects the future, and what parts of that past we choose to keep or discard. It has beautiful art, and fans of both Disco and Pentiment often compare them.
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Other games you might wanna check out
Night in the Woods, Dredge, Oxenfree, A House of Many Doors, Inscryption, Slay the Princess, Citizen Sleeper, Chants of Sennar, Loop Hero, The Cosmic Wheel Sisterhood, The Pale Beyond, Where the Water Tastes Like Wine, Elsinore, Her Story, Before Your Eyes, Pathologic (not delved into above because the venn diagram of Pathologic fans and Disco fans is basically a circle)
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rainbowsmagicandshit · 1 month ago
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Arthur repeals the magic ban! Yay! Druids, Catha, and all others come to Camelot to live peacefully under the reign of the Once And Future King! Yay! The Golden Age is starting! Yay! Merlin still hasn’t told Arthur about magic! …He’s just waiting for the right time. Things have just happened so fast and he just doesn’t know how to bring it all up.
Well, as Arthur and the rest of Camelot get more comfortable with magic, Arthur makes a decision. He’s tried teaching Merlin every type of weapon out there, and he’s hopeless with every one of them. But, Merlin still insists on coming with him on dangerous quests. So, Arthur decides to have Merlin try his hand at magic so he has some sort of self defense.
Merlin: ...You want me to what?
Arthur: I know! I know, Merlin! Magic can be dangerous! But I found a wonderful teacher for you. Say hello, Wallace.
Wallace: Hello
Arthur: He's perfectly trustworthy! And, it'll all be perfectly safe!
Merlin: Arthur, there's something you need to know. About me and magic--
Arthur: I know what you're going to say, Merlin, and--
Merlin: I really don't think you know--
Arthur: --please, for me, just try this. I know you don't really like magic. But please, Merlin. And, you know, even if you're crap at it--which you likely are like everything else--you could probably at least get your eyes to do the gold thing. That'll probably scare off some people from hurting you. Like a rattle snake.
Merlin: Arthur, really, you need to listen to me--
Arthur: I'll even do it with you!
Merlin: Arthur, really...Wait what?
Arthur: I'll do it with you! To show you how not dangerous it is! You have no reason to be scared of learning it, Merlin. It'll be easy.
Merlin: ...You're going to try to learn magic?
Arthur: Yes. How hard could it be. You're going to learn it.
Merlin, crossing his arms: Okay, then. I'd like to see this. Let's see you do magic, Once And Future Prat, Mr. Magic King
Arthur, smug at getting Merlin to agree: Good. Our first lesson starts now.
They both look to Wallace. Arthur happy, Merlin raising a judgmental eyebrow. Wallace starts with the history of magic and the theories behind using it. They don't get to the actually magic using part of the lesson day. Wallace does give them both some texts to study.
Their next lesson does get to the magic part.
Wallace: You want to really feel into the magic of the world around you. Feel the earth. Feel the connection you have to that earth. Feel the power that runs through it.
Merlin's enjoying it, letting the magic wash over him, and also peeking at Arthur who seems to be struggling with it. When asked, Merlin says he doesn't feel anything either. He wants to keep watching Arthur struggle.
Their next lesson, Wallace tries to teach them some basic spells. Lighting a candle. Moving a small object. Merlin laughs at all of Arthur's attempts.
Arthur: Well let's see you do better, Merlin!
Merlin just keeps laughing.
Their lessons keep getting interrupted by this or that. Merlin also has a very busy job. One would think that he'd have less work now that magic was legalized, but no. Now he just has more magic beasts roaming the lands, and people freaking out and attacking those magic beasts, leading to fights and stuff. He's always having to slip away to resolve the matter. He has gotten very good at calming dangerous magic beasts and relocating them. But, relocating takes longer than just killing, so he's still just as busy and gone just as much as he was when dealing with vengeful sorcerers.
Every single start of magic lesson:
Wallace: Did you do the homework I assigned?
Arthur, proud: Yes, I did. I did all the reading, but I did have some trouble with the spellwork.
Merlin, who was up all night settling a griffin family into a new nest on a tall mountain: Uh. No. Didn't have time.
Arthur: Merlin, this is your lesson!
Eventually, Merlin has his fill of watching Arthur struggling with magic, and decides that this time is better spent doing other things. So, during one of the lesson, when Wallace tells them to make the flower bloom, without looking up from the report he's going over, he waves his hand and his pot explodes with the force of plants that grow out of it instantly.
Wallace: ...
Arthur: ...
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floralscented · 2 months ago
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mechanic!dean x bimbo!reader - old habits die hard.
includes, so damn fluffy it's SEEICK. not teeth rotting fluffy but it's just ENDEARRINGGGG okay.
★ ˚⋆
it'd been a long ass day at the garage, and the last thing dean wanted to do was salt your fucking house.
it was a mistake, telling you about salt deterring demons, because now you seemed to think that demons were everywhere. which... was right, of course, but that guy at the bar that you'd thrown salt at was fine. a bit too drunk, but he was too out of it to know that he was staring at you.
guy realized it pretty quickly when you'd whipped out your to-go salt shaker and started pouring it into your hand like it was a sugar packet and tossing it at him.
really, he couldn't be mad. it was as cute as it was irritating, how determined you were to understand the lifestyle he had and then abandoned.
it came back, though, as all things left in the dust tended to do. catch up and with a vengeance.
it started simple. you’d texted him while he was slid underneath a car at the shop, grease and oil all the way up to his hands and smearing all over his screen when he’d grabbed the phone to text you back.
conveniently, one of those splotches of oil covered the important parts of your message.
can u replace salt with pepper
*warding
*wording? idk pls answer quick!!!
the last two came in quick succession, as your rambling thoughts often did when they translated into text, and he didn’t bother to scroll up and read the rest when you were absolutely adamant he answer quick. you typed so quickly that you often misspelled things with those acrylics of yours, so he just disregarded those details as nothing serious.
yeah sure.
dean didn’t know why you were so worked up over salt, of all things, but figured it had to do with cooking, and that you were out because you’d used all of yours — and his — on your little quest to salt every little thing you deemed demonic.
cute. like little kids were cute until they started wailing.
but dean was never, ever mad, even on days like this where nothing ever went right. carburetor’s busted in this guy’s piece of shit truck, and guy’s pissed because dean can’t shit one out and has to order it. diner down the road handed out the last piece of apple pie before he walked in there to get you and him one, like he usually did, on his way back to your house to see you. someone ran a redlight and nearly creamed baby.
yeah, by the time he got to your place, he was ready to throw the towel in and break something. to sit down and not touch anything else, since apparently everything was going to shatter when he touched it.
dean walks up your front steps, heavy sigh already laden on his lips about the fact that he did not have a sweet treat for his sweet thing, excuses sour in his mouth because he knew he’d endure a reaction akin to total devastation when he told you.
his hand lifts to knock, and he sees there, in a fleeting moment in the seal of your door, little ants. so damn many of them, its just a line of black. his eyebrows furrow, hand falling to his side again, as he kneels to get a better look at it.
his eyes are real close to it. he breathes in as he squints, trying to see if the movement is just hallucination or there really were so many that it looked like that—
immediately, dean’s nose burns. he can’t even stop the three sneezes in quick succession, or how his eyes water from it.
realization settles in. pepper.
his sigh is so damn heavy it rattles his bones. he makes sure, though, that he’s not anywhere near the pepper again, already having learned that lesson once.
dean grasps your doorknob and opens it, internally bristling at the fact that you didn’t even lock it. warded the house with pepper, so scared of a demon coming in, but not of the very higher chance of a break-in.
you were bent over all pretty over the back of your couch, little skirt riding up on your thighs, shirt bunched up where your chest pressed against the part of the windowsill that connected with the couch—
he gave himself a five second free card to admire the sight, before he cleared his throat.
“wanna tell me what you’re doin’, princess?” dean asked, his arms crossed firmly over his chest as he watched you. you, so focused on pouring the entire container of pepper in a strategic and straight line on the window sill.
you startled, as if you didn’t hear the door open and close, or, you know, his car pulling up.
“i’m salting the house,” you told him very matter-of-factly, your lips in that little pout that always zilched away every bit of irritation he could ever feel toward you.
dean blinks once, twice. “that’s pepper.”
you, again, look at him like he’s the one who doesn’t understand. “you said—”
“i thought you were talking about cooking!” he interrupts before you could try and ridicule him over this. nuh uh, that was his job right now.
you bristle, very visibly, and he almost laughs aloud right there. “i don’t cook, dean. be serious.”
how could he be serious when you were turning your house into a breathing hazard?
his lips start to curl, the laugh right there in the base of his throat.
“stop it. stop looking at me like i’m doing something silly and you’re not gonna tell me.”
“princess, you’re peppering your house,” dean says, and it feels so good to laugh after the day he’s had. you couldn’t stop the chuckle if you tried. “you have to know that’s silly, right?”
you told him to stop calling the little quirks you have stupid, even if it’s lighthearted. it’s implemented well into his vocabulary.
dean huffs out a breath through his nose to try and stifle it, at least. the last thing he wants to do is make you cry, or mad at him, when you were trying so, so hard.
he straightens, crossing the distance from where he stands to your spot on the couch. gently, he pries the pepper shaker out of your fingers. “were you really scared?” he asks you, and has to close his eyes at the weight — or lack thereof — of the pepper shaker. you’d done so much, and he could only see the front door barrier and the windowsill.
you’d turned your house into a lemon pepper chicken, and you were telling him not to laugh.
“yes!” you exclaim, still wearing that little pout. you’ve brought your hands into it, though, tossing them around in your upset. “i heard something outside, and i was really, really scared…”
dean’s expression softens. his free hand comes up to trace lightly over your cheekbone with his fingertips to try and soothe you. “and,” he drawls out, attempting to finish your sentence where you cut it off. “you didn’t have any more salt, so you had to use pepper.”
“you said!” oh, you were worked up. he felt like animal control trying to wrangle the puffed up kitten barring its teeth at him. “you said i could!”
dean’s eyebrows raise. “how was i supposed to know you meant to salt the house?”
your hand slaps very aggressively on your phone screen, resting beside you on the couch cushion. your manicured nails are typing so furiously on the screen that the clicks sound like popping gunshots.
then, you’re shoving your phone in his face, the text thread between you and him two inches from his eyes.
dean leans back to read it, the entire time watching you as you look poised to strike.
can u replace salt with pepper when wording your house
right. so that’s the part that he conveniently didn’t see, and the source of your typos.
the sigh he looses is so damn heavy.
“that’s my bad,” he says slowly, even though he still, still, is barely keeping his shit together.
you let out a triumphant little hmph that has him wanting to bend you over and show you what happens when you give him attitude, but he reels it in.
“yeah. it is your bad.” reels it in, barely. “now what do i do? my house is haunted, and— and there’s pepper everywhere—”
well, now the ice cold exterior is melting, because you’re standing in front of him with a wobbly lip, and it’s no longer funny anymore.
“where did you hear something?” he asks, his hand cupping your cheek again, resuming his soft touches to try and soothe away the upset, this time. “hey, c’mon, princess, i believe you. put those tears away. can’t help you if you can’t talk to me, can i?”
dean is never this soft with anyone. you’ve done a number on him from the very moment he met you.
your hand shoots out to point at the front door.
he uses his gentle grip on your cheek to tug you in, kissing your forehead lightly. dean has to remind himself a lot of the time that you don't know these things, because you grew up in a home that didn't prioritize raising soldiers instead of boys. your naivety was a blessing. "lemme go look," he mumbles on your skin, before he tugs back and turns.
he's gonna feel like a real piece of shit if there really is something.
his hand doesn't even touch the doorknob before he hears a soft sneeze on the other side.
dean peers through the glass, his eyes narrowed as he searches for the person on the other end, haunches raised because maybe his first theory was right. not a demon, but some fucker trying to break-in on his girl.
his eyes land on a squirrel, nose buried in the streak of pepper lining your front door. it sneezes, and sneezes again, before it scampers off on the creaking wooden boards that was your porch.
your soft steps pad up behind him, very blatantly tucking yourself behind his arm. "did you see it? i heard it, dean, i know there's something out there!"
you sound too damn upset still for him to tell you that your demon was an intrusive squirrel.
so he turns and brings you into his embrace, his chin resting on the top of your head, where he can hide the grin away from you. "yeah, i heard it, princess. we'll get this all cleaned up tomorrow and properly salt it. keep my baby girl safe from all the demons."
you nod into his chest, and it's so damn sweet, the trust you place into his hands. this little white lie won't hurt. not this one time.
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notes, i rly don't know where this idea came from but it made me cackle so hard i had to write it instantly N E WAYYSSSS dean x stuff tomorr hope this hold u off til then
tags, @jasvtsc @titsout4nicholas @figthoughts @depressionbarbie2023 @deans-yn
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igotanidea · 7 months ago
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I am Robin : Damian Wayne x reader (pt 1)
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Summary: Damian x fem!s/o, who has no idea he's Robin. And who is scared of Robin. And who one day happens to meet Robin...
***
They weren’t living together, and definitely not in a leaving toothbrushes at each other’s place way. But their relationship wasn't casual either. After almost a year together, given Damian’s character traits, it could never be casual.
But Y/N wasn’t the type to rush him into anything and definitely not nagging to start sharing space. It was all right if he didn’t want to stay the night too. He was committed to his family and that was okay. Considering the fact that his father was Bruce Wayne himself, the Gotham’s persona, who tended to act a little eccentric, it was completely understandable that Damian wanted to check on him more often than not.
Who knew what kind of crazy idea could possibly enter the bored mind of a rich man.
It truly was no one’s wish to find some scandalous news from the first pages of the magazines.
So yes, she was full aboard on the idea of Damian’s checking on his father and his family.
Who seemed a little weird from the very beginning either way. The first time she met them all his siblings were nice, even awfully so, but she had this crazy feeling of being watched like a prey.
If only she knew why.
But yes, it was okay, because at least she wasn’t in a relationship with Mollycoddle, who demanded care and wanted to be treated with kids’ gloves.
But sometimes, only sometimes, she was wondering if it would be like that forever.
That she would have to sleep in the bed alone, wishing for him next to her.
That she would be forced to deal with her nightmares and loneliness and after work tiredness alone.
That almost every time she asked him to stay over he would prevaricate, giving more or less vague answers.
If only she knew why.
***
He was in the middle of patrolling with Batman and the rest of the family when Barbara’s voice came through the comms.
“Robin.”
“Yes? What is it, Oracle?”
“Y/N keeps blowing off your phone.”
Oh.
Obviously Damian did not take his device with him and definitely could not check whether his girlfriend was trying to contact him.
Barbara, on the other hand, was in charge of everyone’s notifications while they were busy during night hours, just to keep up the pretences of the batfam being completely normal citizens.
“Shall I respond?” Babs muttered to the comm, mentally rolling her eyes at the fact Damian was still keeping Y/N in the dark about his other identity. He was treating this girl seriously, it was obvious and even Batman would see reason in ensuring his blood son didn’t blow up a chance at happiness. Even with a civilian. And if not, Barbara would be more than happy to throw Bruce’s own mistakes in the area right at his face. And most likely the other batkids would gladly join her in this quest. Just for funsies. And for Damian obviously.
“Don’t you dare touching my phone, Oracle!” The last thing he needed was his more or less romantic and more or less spicy conversations with Y/N to come into the light!
“Do you want me to read the text to you?”
“Don’t you dare touching-“
“Robin, why can’t you just come forward and tell her?”
“Cause that would be putting a target on her back!”
“You are putting a target on her back by keeping her in the dark!”
“This is not—” Damian tried to argue, but never finished the sentence, realising, somewhere in the half of it, that Babs was actually true. “I don’t know what to do.” He finally settled on a deep sigh.
However, before Oracle could give him any relationship advice, Batman’s voice echoed from another line, calling his accomplices to order and stopping any personal discussions.
***
Meanwhile, Y/N was standing in front of the club, unsuccessfully attempting to reach Damian.
The party she was dragged to was a surprise to one of her work friends, who broke the news about getting married. Some of the girls decided it was a perfect opportunity for unofficial celebration and the party moved from club to club in the entire Gotham district.
It was impossible to not go. Y/N would be called antisocial, unfriendly and stiff the very same night.
But then it was late and cold and dark and she found herself far from her apartment, not sure how to proceed. Obviously, walking alone was a huge mistake, considering the location, but standing like a salt pillar was starting to turn even more stupid, as the lonely and bewildered woman unmoving on an empty street was the easy target for any thug.  
And Damian was not picking up his phone or responding to texts, that started to become more and more desperate as Y/n lowered herself to almost begging for help.
When nothing came in return, with a heavy and a little broken heart she decided to try and get home by herself.
It was better than being a sitting duck and freezing to death.
***
“Robin.” The voice came through the comms again
“What do you want, Nightwing?”
“I got eyes on Y/N.”
“And why do you bore me with such unimportant details?” Damian muttered, not really paying attention to what his brother was saying. The youngest Wayne was simply too focused on his target for the night.
“Um… Robin?”
“I am busy, Nightwing.”
“Damian-“ Dick dared to say Robin’s real name, getting  a bit desperate to get his attention.
“What now?!”
“I got eyes on Y/N!”
“Wh-what? What do you mean you got eyes on Y/N? She’s supposed to be home, safe and tucked under the cover, turning over on the other side while sleeping!”
“Well, she is not. She’s walking the street with someone on her tail, clearly chasing her.”
“What street?!”
“I’m going to take action now-“
“Don’t you dare, Nightwing.” Damian’s cold voice almost bore a hole in Dick’s head through the comms. “Oracle, give me Y/N location. I’ll be the only one taking the action when it comes to her.”
***
She knew she was being followed.
The man wasn’t exactly subtle when it came to it after all.
The heavy clatter of his boots echoed through the entire empty street, in perfect sync with the accelerated beat of her heart.
Headlines from the newspapers from the entire previous year flashed through her mind.
Rape.
Murder.
Assault.
Unexplained disappearance.
Y/n started to curse herself, instinctively reaching for the pepper spray, greedily clutching her fingers on the tiny, yet effective, bottle.
Though before she could actually use it, there was a loud thump behind her and she stopped with shaking hands and eyes closing, already saying goodbye to her life.
The man sure had a gun and that was the sound she heard. She was already dead. And no one will even know. She will bleed on the street, dying alone and in pain in the dark Gotham street, no news about her till the early morning and-
“Y/N.”
She spun around immediately. Whoever was talking, be it the man who was chasing her or someone else, he knew her name.
Robin. Batman’s sidekick.
The street light colours palette Robin.
Robin, the Gotham’s vigilante.
And one of her worst fears.
***
The thug was lying on the ground, blood was everywhere, including Robin’s uniform and she couldn’t make a single movement.
The most natural thing would be to thank him for the rescue and run away before he got too focused on her, reading right through her, seeing everything she did wrong in her entire life and bringing her to justice.
But she could hardly breathe let alone form one coherent sentence.
When he took a step towards her, she took a step back, almost tripping over her own feet, but miraculously finding balance.
He stopped, looking at her with a predatory smile, tilting head, waiting for a moment to strike.
His teeth shone in the dim light of a street lamp, growing, becoming sharper and she could almost imagine them tearing at her throat like a werewolf or some other supernatural creature, causing her pain for all the bad things she did and—
“You’re safe now.”
She blinked a few times, brought back to reality by his voice that was surprisingly soft. Calm, a little cold perhaps, but gentle regardless.
There was no blood, he was not a werewolf, and she was not in danger of being torn to pieces and having her insides dragged through the entire street.
But she was still scared, and not because of the thug, but because of the vigilante himself.
***
“You’re safe now.” Robin said calmly, keeping his distance. From Damian’s perspective under the mask, it was the worst thing he ever had to do in his life. Instead of rushing to her side, taking her in his arms, and giving her comfort and reassurance he had to keep hiding his face in the shadows. Unbeknown to him, Y/N was more than grateful about this fact.
“Uh-huh…” she stuttered, making Damian want to hug her even more. She was so shaken after being chased like this. After being put in danger.
It didn’t cross his mind, that she could be scared of him.
“Do you want me to walk you home?” This was not really a question in his head, but it was important to slowly assure her she was now protected.
“Uh-huh…” she stuttered again, with wide eyes and pale face, that Damian blamed on the aftermath of terrifying events.
“Okay.”
It was hard to not reach for her hand, envelop her in warmth and walk with her to her apartment. Making her her favourite tea and cuddling on the couch (a weakness he would never admit to his family). But he had to keep his mask, literally and figuratively. Therefore, having escorted her to her building and spinning on his heel, he left her alone.
Not for long though.
***
It took him fifteen minutes to change from Robin costume into regular, civilian clothes, almost searching for a phone booth like a freaking Superman, knowing that if Jon knew it, he would never let him live through it.
Meanwhile, he finally got hold of his phone and read through the desperate messages she’s been sending him for the last hour.
“Dami, please come pick me up. I’m at the XX”
“Dami, please…”
“I don’t know why you are not responding, but if I did something to make you mad, I am sorry…”
“Dami, I need you…”
“Please, it’s cold and I’m scared…”
“Dami… 🥺”
Oh no.
As if seeing her scared after dealing with the threat was not enough, now he also got the insight of what she was feeling and thinking while walking home alone.
That he left her.
That he didn’t care.
That she was alone.
And it made him speed the pace of the changing even more.
And causing Robin to make one, teeny-tiny mistake.
***
A knock on the door made her almost jump, settling on pretending she was not at her apartment. Or that she was sleeping – whichever seemed more plausible at 3 am.
“Y/n!”
The voice seemed familiar, but it could have been just the whispers of her stressed mind, combined with a desire for the presence of that one person she so desperately needed.
“Y/N! Open up, it’s me! Damian!”
She whimpered and moved deeper into the corner of the sofa, covering her ears.
He had to change tactics.
“I know where you keep the spare key. But if you don’t open in five, I’ll kick the door without the need to get it!”
An empty threat that could have only been made by him.
Four seconds later the bolt on the door rattled and Y/N stood face to face with Damian, who had absolutely no intention to put his words into action, just getting her to open.
“Y/N.” He sent her the most comforting and reassuring smile he could muster.
“Dami…” she sobbed, diving into his arms. “why weren’t you picking up your phone? I was scared and – and this guy-”
“Hush, dear.” His hands wrapped around her, taking a few steps forward so they were now inside her apartment and not in the hallway. “You’re safe now. I’m here and no one will hurt you.”
“But why weren’t you picking up?” she repeated nuzzling into him, the mix of emotions finally finding a way out in the form of uncontrolled sobs.
“My apologies, beloved. It was never my intention to make you feel abandoned. But I’m here now.”
“Mhm…”
“You’re okay. Shall I make you your tea? It will ease your nerves after being chased on the streets like that.”
“Yes, please…” she whispered and then a thought hit her. “Dami? I- I never told you I was being chased…”
“You know, it was quite evident. It’s Gotham. It’s late and your text was pretty clear-“ His green eyes met hers in a poor attempt to cover up for the obvious fail, trying to fill in the holes in the facts and silence her questions before they even arise.
But it was too late and she was too smart for being played like that.
There was no way Damian could have simply figured out what happened solely from her messages and ragged pieces of information.
His first question, right after comforting her, should have been what happened?
And how the hell did he get into her apartment almost right after she got in?
Right after Robin escorted her here?
“Dami--?” she stuttered with wide eyes, pulling slightly back, causing a little struggle when he tried to keep her in his arms.
Causing a little too much movement.
“Y/N, listen to me, I can—hey, are you all right?”
She was not.
She was not okay, seeing the familiar and well-known domino mask that fell from Damian’s pocket onto the floor in her apartment.
“You- you are—” her stuttering mixed with paleness and terror reflected in her eyes made him travel back to the conversation they had a few months earlier. 
Oh, no…
How could he forget…?
to be continued...
Part 2
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beelinx · 1 month ago
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jason grace boyfriend headcanons
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a/n: migraines have been killing me lately 😭 free me
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Biggest gentleman ever
But that’s common knowledge I fear
Everyone and their mothers know Jason’s absolutely perfect.
He’s very traditional, so he’d want to ‘court’ you properly before dating you.
That sounds corny I’m sorry but like
He’d get you flowers constantly, open every door for you, pay for your meals…
You get it.
When he confessed and asked you out, you best bet he also went all out.
SO many flowers
And it doesn’t stop there.
You better be prepared to be gifted flowers constantly.
Honestly it’s gotten to a point where you don’t even think you have space for any more flowers.
Your room looks like a fucking greenhouse at this point.
He’d stop immediately if you mentioned disliking them, and would find a cute alternative to give you.
Jason is the type of guy to always text you to make sure you’re okay, and to let you know what he’s up to.
If he’s in a quest, he’d send you constant Iris messages to keep you from worrying about his safety.
In other words, he’s the sweetest, most attentive bf ever <3
Since I’m pretty sure it’s canon: He’s a big hugger!!
I do wholeheartedly believe he wouldn’t be the biggest fan of PDA, preferring those types of moments to be done in private.
He would hug you in public, but only if he felt comfortable with the people around.
BUTTTT if there’s one thing he would never do, is drop your hand.
Only act of affection he is 10000% comfortable with doing publicly.
He loves holding your hand in his always, and he’s a big fan of kissing your hand, too.
Actually, he loves your hand a concerning amount…
You and Jason would read quietly next to one another <3
He’d let you wear his glasses if you asked.
AND if you already wear glasses (like me) then you two would definitely go shopping for new glasses together.
It is so much easier when you have someone helping you out tbh
He’d always be prepared with anything you need.
Jason keeps a bag full of stuff just in case you find yourself needing one of them.
He also reserves a place in his room for you to place your stuff in.
THAT mostly because he wants you to be able to casually sleepover, but he gets bashful admitting that.
Related to all the before mentioned but I fully believe Jason would want to take things slow.
He wouldn’t jump into something if he knew he didn’t have serious feelings and wanted to pursue the relationship further.
In other words, he’s a date to marry type of guy.
AS THEY ALL SHOULD BE !
Wholeheartedly believe that, if he felt you were the one, he would immediately buy a ring.
But — if he felt as if it’d be more proper to wait until a certain time to propose, he’d refrain from doing it for a while.
Instead, he’d get you a promise ring.
He would want you to be as committed to him as he is to you.
It’s because of his abandonment issues and stuff…
Anyway if you moved in with him then trust me he is ON IT
Those TikTok men are a disgrace in his eyes okay
He will help you out constantly
Except he doesn’t consider it “helping out” because it’s his job, too.
Honestly nevermind boyfriend headcanons he should straight up be HUSBAND headcanons
Because there has never been a man more husband material than Jason Grace.
I need him.
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celestemona · 2 months ago
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DEEP WATERS
pairing: alhaitham x mermaid! reader
in the stillness of tides, alhaitham unearths a mystery long believed to be legend—a mermaid ensnared, with eyes as deep as the ocean and secrets buried in every wave. drawn by fate and enchanted by her silent song, he finds himself caught between myth and reality. in his quest to understand her world, he risks losing his own heart to the uncharted depths.
cw: part i of ii. fem reader, pronouns s/her are mentioned tho it was written in 2nd person. fluff, fluff. female body specifications; long hair! reader, nudity, slight language barrier’ struggles, characters may seem ooc. shoutout to alhaitham for name you. 15.5k words sue me. not proof-read.
reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡
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Alhaitham’s day began like any other, filled with the structured predictability he deemed essential.
As Akademiya’s scribe, he was used to working methodically on his tasks, knowing exactly what was needed and never exceeding those limits. Efficiency was a virtue he held in high regard, after all.
But today, at the request of Lesser Lord Kusanali herself, he was dispatched to Port Ormos to investigate some potential concerns involving certain texts arriving from the neighboring nation. A diplomatic matter with Chenyu Vale, she had suggested, that required someone well-versed in logic and languages—a task he could accomplish quickly and with minimal interruption to his personal duties.
Now, as he stood on the outskirts of Port Ormos with his task nearly complete, Alhaitham surveyed the bustling dock.
While Port Ormos often seemed chaotic to him, he couldn’t deny the appeal of watching the ebb and flow of commerce, of lives interwoven in casual exchanges and swift negotiations. But just as he prepared to leave, his attention was drawn to a quieter stretch of the coast, an isolated, rarely visited area far from the main docks. This was usually his kind of place: quiet and solitary.
However, today, the silence was broken by something… peculiar. It wasn’t the rhythmic murmur of the waves or the occasional seagulls that caught his attention, but an odd, strained sound. It was faint but persistent—a low occasional growl mixed with something he couldn’t immediately identify.
Curiosity piqued, Alhaitham allowed his gaze to scan the sandy stretch. There was no one else in sight; no sailors, no matras. This area seemed entirely deserted, only adding to the mystery. 
He approached cautiously, his trained eyes alert with every movement. Then, amidst the scattered shells and seaweed, he saw it: a glimpse of something familiar yet entirely strange.
A tail. Long, dark, and unmistakably fish-like, though far more mesmerizing in its iridescent palette and certainly larger than any common marine animal. Its dark blue with a touch of gray caught the light and shimmered with shifting hues as the waves lapped gently over it.
Alhaitham’s breath hitched as his gaze traveled from the fish tail to its source, finally landing on the figure trapped in a tangled mess of fishing net.
This was no ordinary sea creature. No. It was a mermaid.
For a man who prided himself on his calm and logical demeanor, Alhaitham felt an undeniable wave of disbelief and fascination wash over him.
Mermaids were, at best, myths—Fontaine tales told in taverns and old children’s books. In his days as a student, he had skimmed the sparse historical mentions of mermaids, intrigued by their academic mystery, though ultimately dismissing them as baseless stories. Historians had little to offer about them—no language to decipher, no artifacts to study. It was all speculative, fantasy stories wrapped in the very mystique of the sea. And now, here you were, a very real mermaid right before him.
Your form was incredibly otherworldly, almost surreal in its beauty. Long hair clung to your shoulders and breasts, darkened by the water and tangled with delicate, glistening pearls, while the scales on your arms and ribs caught the faint light. But it was your face, contorted with a mixture of fear and frustration, that held him in place. Your sharp eyes, almost snake-like, blinked warily as you noticed his approach, and a low growl escaped your throat, an instinctive warning.
Alhaitham took a deep breath, grounding himself in reality. This creature—no, this mermaid—wasn’t just a legend he could dismiss. You were tangible, vulnerable, and caught in a trap you clearly couldn’t escape from.
Kneeling out of your reach, he chose his movements with calculated care. “Easy there,” he murmured, his tone neutral yet soft, more for his own benefit than yours. He doubted you’d understand, but it was instinctive to try and soothe you. He slowly extended a hand, palm open, hoping you could see he meant no harm.
Your sharp gaze tracked his every movement, a soft, cautious hiss slipping from your lips. You moved your tail against the net, trying once again to free yourself, but the more you struggled, the tighter the net seemed to trap you. Alhaitham’s gaze dropped to your bare torso, noticing the faint shimmer of scales marred by bruises, likely from your attempts to break free.
He looked back at you, meeting your wary, defiant gaze. Your intelligence was unmistakable—in your eyes, he could see a spark of recognition and caution. You knew he was a threat, but also, perhaps, your only chance.
“Alright,” he said, as if reasoning with a wild creature, and began to move carefully toward the edge of the net. You tensed, the sharp gleam of your canines visible as you bared your teeth in warning. Alhaitham paused, feeling a mix of danger and a strange empathy.
“Relax,” he said softly, ensuring his gestures were as non-threatening as possible. You continued to watch him, your expression still wary but curious. Up close, he could see your long, sharp nails, the delicate, translucent membranes between your fingers and the subtle rise and fall of your gills as you breathed shallowly and anxiously. Your beauty was undeniable but in a way that felt unreal, beyond anything he had ever encountered.
Alhaitham slowly reached for the knife at his belt, the blade glinting in the faint light. Your eyes narrowed, a low, almost inaudible growl escaping as you observed him. “I’m here to help,” he assured, keeping his tone calm, as if you could understand his intent through his voice alone.
As he brought the blade closer to the tangled net, your body went rigid, muscles tensing as if ready to spring��or strike. Your gaze locked onto his, every line of your body taut, your breathing shallow and rapid. For a brief moment, he paused, meeting your gaze with a nod of understanding, as if to say: Trust me, just for now.
With practiced ease, he cut a few threads, loosening the net just enough to give you some room. You flinched, your tail contracting involuntarily, but you didn’t pull away, allowing him to continue his work. He cut it carefully, each movement deliberate, keeping his own breathing steady as he watched your response.
He couldn’t help but wonder at the absurdity of it all. Here he was, the notorious and logical Scribe of the Akademiya, performing a rescue for something—or someone—he once dismissed as pure fantasy. The tales he had brushed aside as stories seemed to dissolve before this living being. Yet his mind continued to spin with questions he couldn’t suppress: How did you end up here, trapped in this net? And what would become of you now?
As he cut the last thread, he noticed your injured tail more clearly, a long red line seeping through the translucent scales. A frown crossed his face as he sheathed the knife, feeling the faintest pang of concern.
“You’re hurt,” he said quietly, not knowing if you would understand him. You shifted slightly, flexing your tail as if testing your freedom, your expression cautious but no longer as frantic. Your eyes met his again, and for a moment, something like gratitude flashed in your gaze—fleeting, almost imperceptible, but there.
He couldn’t help but smile slightly, feeling a pull of fascination, his mind instinctively cataloging every feature, every movement. 
Yet Alhaitham’s thoughts clicked into the details of the situation with calculated precision.
He observed the desolate stretch of beach where he found you, far removed from the main port and any regular fishing route. This area was more of a neglected backwater than a place frequented by locals, let alone fishermen. He was certain you hadn’t been captured here intentionally; instead, you must have ventured here alone, in danger or by mistake, only to be caught by the tangled mess of nets, possibly abandoned by a passing fishing boat.
He looked back at you, his analytical gaze softening slightly. Faced with this new reality, you bore little resemblance to the wild, monstrous figures folklore sometimes suggested. You were undeniably alive, aware, and your beauty, strange and striking, had an almost hypnotic quality.
But despite his attempts at rational analysis, concern rooted itself as he examined your injuries.
The wound on your tail continued bleeding slowly, deep crimson droplets blending into the sea water. He didn’t know how long you had been trapped, but the blood loss, however gradual, could spell trouble if left untreated. There was also the issue of eremites and mercenaries who roamed the outskirts of Port Ormos, not to mention treasure hunters and opportunists. You’d be a prize beyond imagination for many of them if they found you in this weakened state…
The weight of your expectant gaze held him in the moment, your snake-like eyes gleaming with suspicion and interest. You watched him closely, trying to understand him as he studied you. He could see in the slight press of your lips, as if bracing to hiss or growl, ready to flee if needed. But he also noticed that, even in your obvious wariness, there was a glimmer of something more—a reluctant trust, perhaps, that he wasn’t here to harm you.
He took a careful step forward, his voice calm. “Can you understand me?” he asked, each word slow and deliberate. 
Silence, save for the rhythmic lap of waves against the shore.
Opting to approach you through another means, Alhaitham raised a hand to his chest, fingertips gently pressing over his heart. He met your eyes, holding your gaze firmly, and said, “Alhaitham,” keeping his voice low, repeating the name once more, “Al-Haitham,” drawing each syllable with deliberate clarity.
You head tilted cutely, eyes blinking expressively. You watched his gesture, your gaze lingering on the hand over his heart, as if trying to decipher the meaning in his movements and tone. He could see your intrigue, the silent intelligence behind your eyes suggesting that, though there was no response, his words had not entirely gone unnoticed.
Satisfied to have given you something to hold onto, Alhaitham took a deep breath to calm himself.
Internally, the scribe wrestled with a series of difficult choices. Returning you to the sea seemed the most logical path, but there was no certainty that you’d survive the injuries. And considering the bystanders lingering in the area, leaving you there could be even more risky. On the other hand, bringing you to his own home was… complicated. The logistics alone were challenging. He lived a fair distance from Port Ormos—nearly half an hour by walking—and carrying you the entire way risked exposure for both you and himself.
As he turned these options over in his mind, you shifted slightly, a barely audible groan revealing you discomfort. The sight stirred an unexpected protectiveness within him. Practicality aside, leaving you in that state wasn’t an option he could consider.
He crouched beside you once again, his expression softening when he met your gaze. “It seems you’ve left me with little choice,” he murmured, half to himself. “I’ll have to find a way to take you with me.”
You blinked, your gaze never leaving him.
When he extended his hand toward you, you immediately stiffened and hissed aggressively, your body tensing as if bracing for what might come next. Alhaitham kept his movements slow and deliberate, waiting until the tension in your shoulders eased enough. When he placed a careful hand beneath you, your damp skin was smooth, cool to the touch, and your scales gleamed slightly even in the last traces of sunlight. Your breathing steadied, though he could still feel your persistent nerves.
He thought for a moment, gauging your weight, and realized it’d be challenging to carry you all the way to his home without attracting attention. He glanced back at the main harbor, then at you, pondering an alternative solution.
Then his eyes landed on an old wooden cart leaning against the weathered side of a nearby storage shed. The cart was small, probably used to transport boxes of fish or bags of supplies from the coast, with thick wheels designed to handle rough paths. Judging by the nets and equipment scattered around it, it likely belonged to a fisherman or trader who had left it unattended for the day.
With a hint of reluctance, Alhaitham assessed the cart and the possible risks of borrowing it. But practicality won out; the cart was discreet and functional, a solution he couldn’t ignore.
Carefully, he carried you toward the cart, moving at a steady, unhurried pace to keep your calm. You were clearly frightened, your body tensing slightly as he approached the cart, but your eyes remained focused on him, not on the unfamiliar contraption.
“It’s the best I can do for now,” he murmured, his tone gentler, as he placed a soft cloth he had found along the cart’s surface, creating a makeshift cushion over the rough wood.
Slowly, he guided you to sit, your injured tail carefully positioned on the padding. Your eyes darted between him and the cart, a flicker of nervousness visible in the way your fingers clenched and relaxed, but you stayed still, watching him intently as he adjusted the cloth around you.
Once he was certain you were settled, he grasped the iron handle of the cart and began to pull, setting a careful yet steady rhythm. The journey ahead was longer than he had anticipated, and he kept his attention on the road, his mind flooded with questions he couldn’t yet answer.
As you both traced the more secluded paths back to his home, Alhaitham found himself glancing over his shoulder at you, curiosity mingling with a cautious sense of awe. The sound of the cart’s wheels rolling over the uneven path filled the silence between you two, a strangely rhythmic backdrop for his swirling thoughts.
This encounter was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He had encountered beings as mythical as they were magical during his studies, but mermaids—real mermaids—had always been a subject wrapped in mystery and skepticism. And now here he was, with a living, breathing mystery being carried by him in an old, borrowed cart, with questions he could hardly begin to ask.
As he neared home, Alhaitham’s thoughts began to drift toward Kaveh, his housemate. The scribe knew he had the right to bring anyone he wanted into his own home, yet he couldn’t entirely ignore the small tug of doubt about what the architect might think of this stranger among them—especially given the undeniable peculiarity of the situation.
When they finally arrived, Alhaitham noticed an unusual stillness in the cart.
Looking back, he was startled to find you breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling with visible effort. Your eyelids fluttered, your gaze unfocused and barely registering your surroundings. He had assumed you were silent due to simple exhaustion, but now he could see your strength waning; the wound on your tail was no longer bleeding heavily, but your skin had lost its previous luster, becoming dull and slightly pale.
He realized, with a start, that you had likely been out of the water for too long, your injuries worsening your condition. Without a second thought, he lifted you into his arms, your weight shifting in his hold as he carefully cradled you against his chest. Your skin was colder than he had expected, and you barely reacted, your head drooping slightly to one side as he carried you through the entrance.
The house was quiet, he noticed. Kaveh was probably finishing a project or relaxing at the local tavern. In a way, it was a relief; Alhaitham didn’t want to face questions yet, not when every minute counted. Quickly, he headed to his suite, knowing the bathroom there would be the best place to stabilize you.
Reaching the bathroom, the scribe laid you on the floor, leaning you against the wall while he turned on the bathtub’s faucet. The water splashed and rose in the tub, filling the room with a soft, familiar sound, and he carefully tested the temperature, ensuring it was comfortable for you.
Once the tub was full, he returned to your side, sliding his arms around you to lift you again, and gently submerged you in the water.
The effect was almost immediate. The tension in your shoulders began to ease, your body relaxing as you adjusted to the gentle embrace of the water. Your tail submerged partially, the scales faintly shimmering as your breathing began to steady. You blinked slowly, your eyes finally regaining some clarity, and your gaze turned to him once more.
Alhaitham found himself watching you, captivated. The way you moved in the water was like observing a creature in its natural element; you were graceful, serene, each of your movements fluid and instinctive, even in such a small space. For a moment, you seemed almost at peace, adjusting to your new environment with a slight sense of wonder.
After a while, Alhaitham sat on a stool nearby, examining the wound on your tail with a more clinical gaze. The cut looked deeper up close, irregular and red along the edges, likely worsened by your struggle against the net.
Carefully, he extended his hand toward it, intending to assess the damage — but at the first touch, you recoiled, a soft yet distinct growl rumbling in your throat. Your eyes locked onto his hand, narrowing in a sharp warning.
“Easy,” he said softly, his voice measured and calm. “I just want to help.”
You held his gaze, still defensive, your eyes distrustful and unyielding.
Alhaitham considered his options, realizing he needed to show you his intentions. Slowly, he rolled up his sleeve, exposing a small area of his forearm. Using a small, sterilized knife from the medical kit he kept nearby, he made a small cut. Without breaking eye contact, he took a roll of bandages and tended to the wound, pressing a small cloth to it to stop the bleeding, then securing it with careful precision.
You watched intently, your sharp eyes following every movement as he applied the bandage and finished his demonstration. He extended his hand, showing you the process was harmless, then gestured toward your injured tail with a look of gentle insistence.
Your gaze shifted from the bandaged arm to his face, and then, slowly, you relented, your tail moving toward him in a tentative gesture of trust.
Alhaitham excused and his fingers moved over the surface of your tail, the scales cool and smooth under his touch, a strange blend of softness and strength. He found himself fascinated by the texture, each scale catching faint glimmers of color as he carefully cleaned the wound and applied a thin layer of antiseptic balm.
Your reaction was hesitant, but you didn’t resist, your gaze fixed on him with a mix of attentiveness and intrigue. Alhaitham was silent, focusing on his task, though he couldn’t shake the strange sensation of examining something so mythical, so utterly otherworldly.
When he finished, he moved back a bit, giving you space to adjust and settle into the bathtub.
For a moment, the room fell silent, and Alhaitham realized you were likely hungry. Recalling his pantry, he remembered there were some canned fish—a simple, if humble, option. He rose, nodding apologetically before heading to the kitchen.
There, he grabbed the can and opened it, the salty, familiar scent wafting into the air. When he returned, you watched him with expectant eyes, your curiosity rekindled. He sat beside the tub again and offered the food, waiting to see how you would react. At first, you wrinkled your nose, suspicion shining in your gaze, but after a moment, you carefully took a piece, chewing it timidly.
It was as if a switch had been flipped. You devoured the rest with surprising intensity, your hunger evident as you finished the fish with quick, eager bites. When you looked back at him, pupils dilated and gleaming, your expression softened into something almost sweet. The unguarded look, the silent request in your face, caught him off guard—you wanted more.
A slight smile played on his lips, amused by your sudden change. Without saying a word, he grabbed another can, opened it, and offered it to you. You accepted it with the same voracious energy, and he found himself even more captivated, watching you eat with a fascination that was part analytical, part genuine curiosity, a faint hint of acceptance surfacing.
“So that’s all it takes to earn your trust, huh? Just a bit of food,” he remarked, his voice carrying a tone of entertainment as he straightened on the stool, arms crossed. His eyes gleamed with rare humor, the softened edge that few had ever seen. When he chuckled, you looked up, momentarily intrigued by the sound.
But that lightness faded as his mind returned to the current situation, his brow furrowing in quiet thought.
Alhaitham couldn’t help but feel unsettled by the scene of this creature from myth, an enigma he could barely believe was real, now looking at him from his bathtub. And he, a man usually content with the solitude of his own space, was now bound to share it with you, a mystery he found himself inevitably drawn to.
He took a deep breath and leaned toward you, his fingers interlacing.
“Where did you come from, huh?” he asked, his voice softer this time, as if coaxing an answer. “How did you end up here in Sumeru of all places?”
Each question felt like a whisper, a thread he was following in search of answers he wasn’t sure you even had.
His gaze lingered on your face, his eyes softened as he searched for some hint of recognition, something that would give him insight into the untold story you carried. But you only tilted your head, watching him with those beautiful, sharp, and intrigued eyes, and he sighed, recognizing that these questions might not yield anything for now.
With a contemplative look, he continued, more to himself now, “I don’t know how long you’ll be staying here, but…” His gaze drifted to the edge of the tub. “We’ll need to get past this language barrier,” he said, watching you carefully, noticing how you seemed to respond, if not to his words, then at least to his tone. You might not have spoken yet, but he had a strong suspicion you understood more than he initially thought.
He straightened up again, arms crossed over his chest, already planning his next steps. “Teaching you some basics should be manageable,” he mused. “You seem smart. I’ll start with simple words. Maybe that’ll give us some common ground.”
His thoughts briefly wandered to the Akademiya’s library. The House of Daena held numerous books and journals, fragments of knowledge, notes from scholars who had studied all sorts of myths. Perhaps there was something in those pages that could hold the answers he needed. He’d make a point to return there tomorrow.
Lost in thought, he murmured, “I can’t keep you in the tub forever, either. We’ll have to address that eventually.” His voice trailed off as he considered the situation more practically. For now, the tub would suffice, but it was far from a long-term solution.
You followed his every movement, though it was clear your interest was more in your surroundings than in him.
Occasionally, your gaze would drift from the dim candlelight to the strange objects decorating the bathroom, absorbing each detail of this world that was foreign to you. Alhaitham found himself staring at you, surprised at how naturally you seemed to fit into the space—a strange contrast considering you were a creature of the water, yet here you were, curious and present in the heart of his world.
Moments passed in silence, both lost in separate thoughts—Alhaitham weighing his options.
Some time later, he noticed the way your eyes began to close, your body finally giving in to the day’s exhaustion. You leaned against the edge of the tub, breathing softly, eyelids heavy. A faint, almost affectionate smile crossed his lips as he murmured, “A long day, no doubt.”
With a low chuckle, he straightened, adjusting the dim lighting to give you peace. “Goodnight,” he said softly, letting the silence of the bathroom settle over you as he returned to his suite.
Once in his room, he shed the day’s fatigue along with his usual attire, slipping into more comfortable clothing. Yet even as he tried to shift his focus, his thoughts returned to you. The mystery of who you were, what you were, haunted him in the most unexpected ways. Every answer led to another question, but that wasn’t the unsettling part. No—it was the quiet fascination you stirred within him, a desire to unravel that he never had felt before.
Heading to the kitchen, he prepared a quick meal for himself. He served a simple broth, letting it simmer as he went over the potential tasks for tomorrow.
Pay a visit to the Akademiya’ library was a must, he concluded. Perhaps he could find some records that might offer insights into mermaid lore.
But there was more to consider—how would he navigate the practicalities of living alongside you? How’d Kaveh react to your existence? The solution to the language barrier seemed a smart move, but could you communicate in the same way humans did? The thoughts accumulated, persisting as he carried his food back to his chair.
Settling in with a book about the different cultures of the desert tribes, Alhaitham tried to immerse himself in its pages, though his eyes drifted now and then toward his suite door. There was a strange sense of responsibility he couldn’t ignore.
When he had read as much as his mind would allow for the night, he got up, walking quietly to the bathroom to check on you one last time.
You were there. You were real.
The faintest trace of a smile crossed his face as he saw you sleeping, your body half-submerged in the water, your tail draped over the side of the tub. The room fell into a gentle silence, the soft rhythm of your breathing the only sound.
He lingered there for a moment longer than necessary, his mind reluctantly calming as he absorbed the peace of the moment. Finally, he closed the door and turned, heading back to his room.
After finishing his nightly routines somewhere else, Alhaitham lay in bed, his thoughts wavering between the strange events of the day and the mysteries tomorrow would bring. But tonight, he allowed himself a rare luxury: to set aside the unknown, choosing instead to let the calm of the moment settle over him.
With one last lingering thought of you, he let sleep claim him, already aware that his life had changed, subtly but irrevocably, the moment he found you.
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When the first rays of dawn slipped into the room, Alhaitham woke, his mind returning to the surreal events of the previous day. 
For a brief moment, he wondered if it had all been a trick of his tired mind, but the memory of your cautious yet inquisitive gaze quickly dismissed the notion. Getting up, he adjusted his clothes and headed to the bathroom, his mind already reflecting on the day’s responsibilities—and the unique situation of having a mermaid as an unexpected guest.
Opening the bathroom door, he was greeted by the sight of you already awake, fingers trailing through the water with a kind of childlike curiosity. As soon as you sensed his presence, you lifted your head, and he was met with what could only be described as a warm, welcoming look. Your sharp, reflective eyes held a glimmer of trust, hesitant but undeniably there, as if his arrival was something to be anticipated rather than feared. 
Alhaitham felt a small smile tug at his lips as he observed your response, taking it as a sign that you were becoming accustomed to him.
“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice softened by the quietness of the early hour.
The words seemed to capture your attention even more closely, though he knew the meaning might be lost on you. Still, he kept his tone gentle, observing the way you seemed to listen, almost as if searching for something familiar in his voice. “I see you’re feeling at home,” there was a hint of amusement in his tone, his eyes flicking to the water you were swirling with your fingers.
Turning to the sink, he splashed water on his face and grabbed his toothbrush, methodically following the movements of his morning routine. He was aware of your gaze, fixed on each motion, following the toothbrush in his hand as he brought it to his mouth. Pausing, he looked at you, the faintest smile curving his lips as he leaned back against the sink.
“Curious now, aren’t we? It’s a toothbrush. We use it to… well, keep our teeth clean,” he explained, though he had no real expectation that you’d understand. Nevertheless, there was something strangely satisfying about sharing these little details with you, as if guiding you through the peculiarities of human life.
You watched him closely, your eyes darting between the toothbrush, the sink, and the running water. The slight confusion on your face was so genuine, so openly curious, that he found himself chuckling quietly. “I suppose none of this makes sense to you. But we humans have our habits.”
When he finished, Alhaitham straightened, casting one last look in your direction before heading to the door. “I’ll bring you some breakfast,” he said, as much out of habit as anything else, already noting the slight inquisitive tilt of your head. He lingered a moment longer than necessary, almost reluctant to leave the room, before finally heading to the kitchen to prepare for the day.
Entering the kitchen, he found Kaveh already there, hunched over a cup of coffee with a look that bordered on pure misery. The dark circles under his eyes and his slow, almost agonizing sips of coffee told Alhaitham everything he needed to know.
“Rough night?” Alhaitham’s tone was clearly teasing, though he made little effort to hide his mild disapproval. Kaveh didn’t even bother looking up, merely muttering something unintelligible as he stared at his mug.
“Don’t start,” the other man grumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion. “It’s too early for your lectures.”
Alhaitham’s lips twitched in mockery, barely hiding an ironic smile. “Lectures? Hardly. Just an observation. Maybe a bit of moderation would do you good.”
Kaveh scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. “Moderation isn’t exactly your strong suit either, judging by the amount of research papers scattered around.” He drained his coffee, muttering something about Alhaitham’s inability to keep the house organized and stumbled toward his room, the door closing with a weary thud behind him.
Shaking his head, Alhaitham turned his attention to the fridge, rummaging through its contents with a quiet purpose. He picked a selection of food he hoped might appeal to you—some leftover shrimp, dried fish, and a few other options he thought might please a creature of the sea.
Returning to you, he noticed how your gaze instantly brightened at the sight of the food he held. A barely concealed smile crossed his face as he watched your eager expression, the way you leaned forward slightly, anticipation evident in your wide eyes.
“I see I’ve already discovered the key to earning your trust,” he commented with a soft chuckle, placing the food beside the tub. “A little food, and suddenly I’m not so intimidating.”
Sitting on the stool near the tub, he watched you as you picked up the shrimp, a glimmer of wonder followed by the same fervor with which you had devoured last night’s meal. The moment you tasted it, your expression shifted to one of contentment, and he couldn’t help but be amused by how expressive you were.
“Listen,” he began in a conversational tone, though he knew the full implications were likely lost on you, “I’ll need to be away for a while,” he paused, as if weighing his words. “However, in the meantime, I’ll also check if there’s anything that might be useful for understanding your situation.”
You looked up briefly, eyes attentive, and Alhaitham felt a spark of satisfaction at your apparent focus. It was as if, despite the language barrier, some part of you had grasped the importance of his words.
He continued, a thoughtful tone in his voice, “Besides, I can’t leave you in the bathtub indefinitely, so I’ll work on a more appropriate solution. I’d like to have it back, after all,” he paused, almost speaking to himself, “Then, there’s Kaveh too who I should approach the current subject but I can deal with him later. The most important now is figure out how we’re gonna work on building your vocabulary. Just enough so we can understand each other.”
The statement lingered in the air, half a plan and half a promise.
Alhaitham realized he was already thinking about putting his plans in action, wondering if he might start teaching you simple words and phrases as soon as possible. His fingers tapped absently on his knee as he considered the logistics, the potential challenges—and rewards—of bridging that language gap.
From time to time, your gaze fell on him, as if assessing his intentions, though it didn’t take long before your focus shifted again, captivated by something else now that sunlight bright your surroundings. He marveled at your ability to find fascination in the simplest things, and for a brief moment, he felt a strange pang of something he couldn’t quite identify—a bubbling discomfort in his stomach, almost unsettling.
The silence became comfortable, broken only by the occasional soft sound of the water and  you eating.
Alhaitham’s gaze drifted to the soft morning light stretching across the bathroom floor, and he suddenly realized he’d lost track of time.
A sigh escaped him as he finally rose from his seat. “Looks like that’s my cue.”
Your gaze followed him, an imperceptible questioning look in your eyes that made him chuckle softly. “What?” he said, his voice gentler. “I may not understand where you came from, but I’ll make sure you’re comfortable here.”
With one last look, he left the room to gather his things and prepare for work.
As he adjusted his attire, his thoughts returned to the moments you’d spent observing him—a feeling that lingered, even as he headed to the kitchen for a quick cup of coffee.
Before leaving, he returned to check on you one last time and considered whether or not to lock the bedroom door. He doubted you’d drag yourself around the house and was sure Kaveh wouldn’t intrude on his privacy. So, he only closed the door and make his way to the exit.
He cast one last look behind him before leaving his home and heading toward the Akademiya.
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At his work, Alhaitham went through the day with practiced ease. 
The tasks before him were routine; his hands swiftly leafed through documents, marking necessary corrections and assessing reports without losing pace. Occasionally, a colleague would pass by with a nod or a brief greeting, which he returned in his usual, calm manner, though his thoughts kept drifting back to you. He found himself wondering how you were doing, alone and adjusting to the strange, new world of his home.
During lunch, he took a detour to the House of Daena.
The familiar shelves surrounded him, but he was focused, his eyes scanning the spines of books and journals, all marked with references to the ancient legends and myths of Teyvat. Thanks to his access to restricted areas, he pored over some of the oldest and rarest manuscripts, hoping to glean at least a trace of knowledge about mermaids.
Most entries were vague at best—poetic reflections, scattered notes from long-dead historians, and tales from Fontaine that seemed like fables. However, he gathered hints that mermaids, if they existed, were mysterious beings known for their enchantments and charm over men, with powers beyond human understanding. Intriguing, though frustratingly incomplete.
As the sun began to set, Alhaitham finally left the office. 
On his way home, he stopped by a nearby fishmonger’s stall. Fresh seafood was piled high—crabs, shrimp, mussels. Selecting a variety, he figured you would enjoy the options. Just as he was reaching for his mora pouch, he spotted Kaveh rushing toward him from across the plaza, his usually composed friend looking distinctly out of sorts.
“Alhaitham!” Kaveh’s voice was breathless, incredulous, as he skidded to a halt beside him. “You—you need to go home. Right now!”
The scribe raised an eyebrow. “Good to see you too. But if you notice, I’m a bit busy at the moment.”
“No, no, you don’t understand,” Kaveh said, nervously running a hand through his hair. “There’s—there’s a naked woman in our kitchen!”
Both Alhaitham and the vendor froze, the scribe’s mind, thouggh, racing a mile a minute. Kaveh looked genuinely shaken, his cheeks flushed, eyes wide with a mix of panic and disbelief.
“A woman…?” Alhaitham repeated, the words slipping out as he tried to process what his friend had said.
“Yes! A very naked woman! In our kitchen!” Kaveh’s voice dropped to a hiss. “She’s just—she’s in there, rummaging through the food like she owns the place!”
The realization hit Alhaitham like a shock, his pulse quickening. He barely acknowledged the merchant’s chocked stare as he turned, leaving his purchases behind as he quickly made his way home. Kaveh struggled to keep up, throwing his hands in the air.
“Alhaitham, what’s going on? Do you know something? I should’ve known I wasn’t imagining things when I heard voices coming from your room this morning. Since when do you bring women home without even giving me a heads-up? And—she’s stunning! But who—what—?”
Alhaitham didn’t respond. His mind was a whirlwind of questions, scenarios, and a strange, unexpected excitement tinged with worry. He’d hoped you’d stay in the bathtub—not creating legs and wandering around defenseless.
Kaveh was still talking, ranting in exasperation, but Alhaitham only caught fragments.
“Just… be quiet for a moment,” he muttered, eyes fixed on the path as his pace quickened.
Upon arriving home, he opened the door cautiously, Kaveh practically breathing down his neck. Heading toward the kitchen, he felt a palpable tension. And then he saw you.
You were in the center of it, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun streaming through the windows. Your human form was… breathtaking. The long, now-dry locks of your hair cascaded over your shoulders, reaching your waist, framing your face with an ethereal quality that somehow amplified your beauty tenfold. Your features—sharp yet soft, and your eyes, still carrying that same hint of mystery and allure—caught the light, leaving him speechless.
Your skin seemed to glow, luminous in a way that appeared almost otherworldly. And you were indeed very, very naked.
His gaze remained, caught between awe and sheer disbelief. You were in his kitchen, the same creature he had found tangled in the fishing net, and yet, looking at you now, he couldn’t help but feel utterly captivated.
Kaveh stammered beside him, his face bright red as he averted his gaze. “Alhaitham, seriously! Are you going to explain this or just keep staring?”
Snapping out of his trance, Alhaitham cleared his throat, masking his surprise with a carefully neutral expression. He stepped forward, catching your attention. “You… You’re human now,” he murmured, almost to himself, the amazement still lingering in his voice.
You looked up, meeting his gaze with a glint of recognition and curiosity. In that moment, Alhaitham felt a faint trace of familiarity in your eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had formed between you.
Then, to his surprise, you opened your mouth, and a single soft word escaped.
“‘Haitham.”
Alhaitham’s eyes widened. His name—or a version of it—spoken in your voice for the first time.
A strange warmth spread through him as he heard it, his own name seeming to carry an unexpected weight, as if imbued with the raw honesty of a first word. He barely had time to process it before you stepped closer and gently pulled his face toward yours, brushing the tip of your nose against his.
Kaveh let out an audible gasp beside him, his face flooding with color as he stumbled back, practically tripping over his own feet. “Archons above! What is happening to the world?” His voice was nearly a squeak as he pressed himself against the far wall, looking like he might faint from the shock.
Alhaitham, though not someone easily perturbed, found himself momentarily frozen, his pulse quickening as he processed your action. He had read about mermaid customs, albeit only briefly in fragmented records, but it occurred to him that this gesture might mean something— perhaps a greeting, a way of recognizing trust and acceptance.
With that realization, his surprise softened into something closer to warmth. The gesture felt innocent, sincere. Alhaitham’s lips curved upward, and his eyes softened as he met yours. “So, that’s how you say ‘hello,’” he murmured, his voice low, as if not wanting to break the moment.
You tilted your head, amusement gleaming in your gaze for the first time, as if you could somehow sense his thoughts. Meanwhile, Kaveh, still pressed against the wall, looked on with equal parts horror and disbelief.
“Oh, I’m going to lose my mind,” he muttered, covering his eyes as if to give the two of you some privacy. “Alhaitham, please tell me you have some kind of explanation for this—this whole situation.”
Ignoring the other man’s confused state, Alhaitham took a step back. “You surprised me,” he said, his voice softened, warmth in his tone. “I wasn’t expecting this. I wasn’t even sure if you could take on a human form, let alone speak so quickly.” He managed a small smile, the corners of his lips curling as he realized he had far more to learn about you than he initially thought.
Kaveh, still covering his eyes with one hand, muttered, “Unbelievable! You're still talking? Only you'd find yourself in this situation and still stay calm.”
Alhaitham shot him a brief look, though he couldn’t entirely blame him. Turning to you, he gently gestured for you to follow. “Come. Let’s find something for you to wear.”
As you followed him, Alhaitham tried to ignore Kaveh’s incredulous expression. He knew he’d be bombarded with questions later, but for now, all that mattered was getting you settled, dressed, and perhaps—if possible—beginning to understand the mystery you had brought into his life.
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Alhaitham’s clothes hung loosely on you, but he found a way to tie them securely, adjusting the sleeves and waistband as comfortably as possible. 
While he dressed you, his eyes always averting when they fell on your exposed intimates, you looked down at yourself, wide-eyed and fascinated, tilting your head as if entranced by the strange, soft fabric now covering your skin. He noticed how you examined each new sensation—the way the sleeves brushed against your arms, how the fabric rested on your shoulders, and the feeling of something covering your legs. A small smile tugged at his lips as he watched you try to make sense of it all.
Once he ensured you were clothed, your wound tended, and provided with food that seemed to delight you, Alhaitham guided you back to the main room, where Kaveh awaited.
The architect’s mouth fell open as he observed your every movement, absorbing how you moved with a blend of grace and wonder, entirely captivated by each new detail around you. Blissfully unaware of their gazes, you seemed utterly fascinated by how your own feet flexed and moved, watching them with open curiosity as if they were little, curious creatures.
Kaveh broke the silence, his eyes still wide with disbelief. “Alright… start explaining, or I might think I’m hallucinating. Or still drunk.”
Ever practical, Alhaitham recounted the events precisely, detailing how he found you entangled in fishing nets, the injury you’d suffered, and his decision to bring you home to heal.
“I didn’t know if she would survive in the wild with her injuries,” he added, his tone practical, though he couldn’t help glancing at you to make sure you were still comfortable. “It seemed the most reasonable option.”
Kaveh nodded slowly, his expression blank as he pieced together the story. “So, you’re saying she’s not just some random woman, but actually a mermaid—a living legend—and you decided to bring her here.” He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a low whistle. “I can’t say I blame you. But… what do you plan to do next?”
Alhaitham crossed his arms, his gaze steady. “She’s free to leave whenever she wants. But with her injury”—he gestured subtly to your bandaged leg—“I doubt she’ll go far. Until she heals, she’ll stay here, and I’ll try to learn as much as I can. We still know so little about her species.”
Kaveh raised an eyebrow. “You realize what you’re saying, right? We’re talking about a mermaid, not just some stray animal you can study. People would pay a fortune just to catch a glimpse of her. She could be in real danger if someone else, or even the Akademiya, finds out.”
Alhaitham didn’t waver. “I’m well aware. That’s why, for now, she stays here. I’ll be careful.”
Kaveh, even relunctantly, nodded, his concern gradually shifting to fascination as he watched you stretch your legs, then flex your feet experimentally, giggling with delight.
“Does she understand us? I mean, can she speak our language since she had said your name a while ago?”
A faint smile played at the corner of Alhaitham’s lips. “She’s getting the hang of it.”
Kaveh brightened, leaning forward with a smile. “Ah, well, in that case…” He pointed to himself, speaking slowly and clearly, “Kaveh!”
Your gaze quickly lifted from your feet to study Kaveh, and you seemed to pay considerable attention to his name. With your brows slightly furrowed, you tilted your head, then murmured softly, “Haitham.”
Kaveh’s smile faltered, his face contorting in confusion as he shot Alhaitham an incredulous look, who was suppressing an amused look.
Determined, Kaveh repeated his name, louder this time. “Kaveh,” he insisted, as if pure repetition would yield better results.
You watched him with a mixture of curiosity and slight confusion, though a barely perceptible glimmer of pure mischief crossed your eyes. Confident, you repeated again: “Haitham.”
Alhaitham couldn’t hold back. A low chuckle escaped him, and he shook his head, watching Kaveh’s patience fray as he let out a dramatic sigh.
“Oh, I get it,” Kaveh muttered, crossing his arms and pouting. “I’m just the ‘other guy,’ huh?”
“She’s learning,” Alhaitham reassured, a faint but warm smile touching his lips. “It’ll take time, and she seems to have chosen a starting point.” He looked at you, his gaze softened. This didn’t escape the architect’s sharp eyes, who raised an eyebrow subtly.
In the end, Kaveh rolled his eyes but couldn’t fully hide a smile. “Well, I suppose I’m honored to be in her presence anyway,” his gaze lingered on you, his voice softening with a kind of reverence. “It’s still hard to believe. This—this is actually real.”
Alhaitham’s gaze shifted from Kaveh back to you, his eyes calm but observant. “Yes,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else, “it is.” The smile in his eyes remained, becoming a bit more serious. “And I think our lives just got a lot more interesting.”
The conversation continued, flowing naturally between Alhaitham and Kaveh, though their attention rarely drifted from you.
Kaveh’s eyes shone with unmistakable fascination every time he looked in your direction, still grappling with the fact that he was in the presence of a mermaid. Alhaitham, meanwhile, was studying you with a different intent, as if weighing the potential for you not only adapt further, or learn and communicate, but perhaps even bridge the gap between your worlds entirely.
And yet, both men couldn’t ignore your beauty—a graceful, ethereal presence that captivated them even in this simple, domestic setting.
After a lull in the conversation, Kaveh cleared his throat, shifting his gaze between Alhaitham and you. “You know, I was thinking… does she have a name?” He looked at Alhaitham expectantly, as if the answer was obvious.
Alhaitham blinked, his expression unreadable for a moment. He hadn’t even considered it until now; you’d only just learned to say his name, so the thought of you having one of your own hadn’t crossed his mind.
Seeing his hesitation, Kaveh continued, “We can’t just keep calling her ‘she,’ ‘mermaid’, ‘woman’ or something vague all the time. She deserves a name.”
Alhaitham nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. She should have a name… something that suits her.” He looked at you, his gaze contemplative, as if searching for some hidden part of your essence to capture in a single word.
Kaveh, always the creative, leaned forward eagerly. “Alright, how about… ‘Sapphire’? She has that ethereal, oceanic vibe, right?”
Alhaitham frowned slightly. “Too obvious.”
Undeterred, Kaveh tried again. “Alright, then… ‘Pearl’? She has this… luminous quality.”
Alhaitham tilted his head. “A bit too delicate. It doesn’t match her strength.”
Kaveh leaned back on the sofa, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Alright, Mr. Critic. What do you suggest?”
A faint spark of memory lit up Alhaitham’s eyes, and he looked at you, seemingly lost in thought.
“There was an ancient text I read some time ago about the mythology of a lost kingdom. In it, there was a name that stood out to me… (Y/N).” The name slipped from his lips with a gentle reverence, as if resurrected from some ancient memory.
You looked up, tilting your head at the sound. Something about the name resonated, as if it called to a part of you that you hadn’t realized was waiting for it. A faint glimmer of recognition seemed to flicker in your gaze, and the smallest, almost imperceptible smile curved your lips. Alhaitham noticed, his eyes widening as he observed your reaction.
Kaveh, noticing your response as well, let out a low whistle. “Well, that settles it. (Y/N). It has a mystique aura, something that feels… timeless.”
Alhaitham nodded, his gaze locked on yours with a hint of satisfaction. “(Y/N),” he repeated softly, as if affirming the choice. You responded by smiling at him, your expression open and serene, as if accepting the name as your own.
In that moment, Alhaitham felt a quiet sense of accomplishment, as if he had bridged another small yet meaningful gap between you and the human world. Kaveh, adjusting himself with a smile, looked at you both in reverence. “Well, it seems we’ve officially welcomed (Y/N) into our lives.”
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝
The days passed quickly, and Alhaitham found himself studying you almost as closely as you seemed to study the world around you. 
Teaching you turned out to be a surprisingly smooth process—‘hello’, ‘yes’ and ‘no’ being the words you’ve learned easily and used the most along with his name. You absorbed new words with a quiet curiosity, and even when your attention drifted to things like sunlight gleaming on a glass or the smell of incense from somewhere nearby, you still seemed to remember his words as if you’d stored them in a special place in your mind.
Your palette was another revelation for him. While seafood seemed to be a favorite, you showed great interest in trying every dish he introduced to you, from savory curries to exotic native fruits from Sumeru. Alhaitham watched as your eyes widened in surprise at the first taste of a ripe Zaytun Peach, the juice trickling down your chin as you savored each bite. He found himself smiling at how you looked at the fruit as if it were a gift, a piece of magic in the form of sweetness.
One afternoon, Alhaitham arrived home to the sound of aggressive hisses and faint, curious purrs. Concerned, he quickly entered the house to find you pressed against the wall, wide-eyed as a gray tabby cat—likely a neighbor’s runaway—rubbed itself against your legs. At first, you recoiled, showing claws and sharp canines in an instinctive defense. But as soon as the creature began to purr, you softened. Alhaitham watched, amused, as you knelt down, carefully petting the animal with an almost reverent gentleness, murmuring the word “yes” repeatedly as if you were in mutual agreement with the feline’s own rumbling approving.
Then, there was Kaveh. 
The architect’s affection grew towards you—although every time he was determined to make you remember his name, he was met with your unique mischievous smile and the same answer each time: “Haitham.” 
You said it with a bit of cadence, as if relishing how it made him frown in exaggerated frustration. Alhaitham, leaning back in his chair one evening, smirked at the interaction, watching Kaveh’s latest attempt dissolve into another sigh of defeat.
“All right, I see what it’s going on” Kaveh grumbled one day, crossing his arms as you observed him with a playful glint in your eyes. “You’ll acknowledge me properly, eventually.” 
Once, however, you found Kaveh hunched over his workspace, focused on a miniature architectural model. You approached quietly, observing the delicate structures he had assembled with fascination. Noticing your presence, he looked up and saw the appreciative smile on your face, understanding it as a compliment. “At least someone here likes my work,” he murmured with a chuckle. “If only all my clients were this easy to please…” He paused, ironically melancholic, earning an empathetic hum from you.
Both men had fallen into a rhythm around you, somehow more accommodating than they had expected. They adjusted to your needs perfectly, sharing the responsibility of ensuring your comfort, and found themselves both challenged and charmed by your presence.
For you, on the other hand, their world had become a comfortable place, one where you settled into a rhythm of small delights and quiet discoveries.
One day, as Alhaitham prepared tea for the three of you, he found himself reflecting aloud, speaking as if to himself. “I never imagined a mythical creature would be so adaptable,” he glanced at you sitting on the floor of the living room, distractedly munching half an apple and reading the newspaper, marveling at the images and texts with the adorable little sounds of awe you let out. Alhaitham couldn’t hold back the affectionate smile.
Kaveh, sitting cross-legged as he studied his latest designs, looked up and nodded, laughing. “She’s adapted better than I did when I moved here,” he commented. “It’s nice to finally have a roommate who doesn’t critique my design choices every five minutes.”
Alhaitham shot him a look, but he wasn’t offended. “Maybe she knows that beauty is best observed without unnecessary comments,” he replied coolly, his eyes lingering on you as you immersed yourself in your things.
In your own way, you had made your home with them. And, day by day, both Alhaitham and Kaveh were discovering that perhaps they had made their home with you too.
Alhaitham had also been keeping his promise, carefully ensuring your safety and privacy within the walls of his home. 
However, as the days passed, he began to notice that your curiosity was growing restless. Though your injuries were healing well, you seemed all too aware of the world outside, especially whenever you sat by the living room window.
Hours would slip by as you watched the passing crowds, children playing, merchants bartering. He and Kaveh had tried to explain the dangers of going out, cautioning you that it wasn't the best idea until you were fully recovered, but your eagerness to explore was unmistakable.
So, after weighing the pros and cons and discussing the arrangement with Kaveh, Alhaitham made a decision: a small outing, just enough to satisfy your curiosity without risking too much exposure. You needed clothes anyway, something more suitable than his shirts or Kaveh’s oversized tunics. And thus, one sunny afternoon, after a few of your lessons and some necessary safety ensures, Alhaitham guided you through the bustling streets of Sumeru City and towards the Grand Bazaar.
The moment your bare feet touched the warm, sun-dappled street stones, your eyes lit up with childlike wonder. Every detail enchanted you—the intricate architecture, the intoxicating scent of spices in the air, the hum of life around you. Alhaitham noticed the way your gaze darted to every vibrant stall and passing stranger, taking in the chaos with delight.
However, he also noticed something else: the way nearly every man you passed seemed to pause, transfixed, their gazes lingering on you. 
It wasn’t just that they were admiring your beauty—they were captivated, their expressions turning almost dreamlike, as if spellbound. Alhaitham’s brows furrowed as he watched one guy receive a swift smack from his wife when she caught him staring a bit too long. He took a step closer to you, shielding you slightly from the attention, and you, caught up in everything around you, hardly noticed.
You gasped softly as you entered the Grand Bazaar, eyes wide with excitement. The stalls were filled with handmade crafts, woven fabrics, jars of colorful spices, and foods you’d never seen before. Alhaitham, trailing just behind you, couldn't help but feel a flicker of warmth as he watched you light up at each new discovery, as if the world itself had become a treasure chest, and you were here to explore its wonders.
Before long, something shiny caught your attention—a stall laden with intricate jewelry. Without thinking, you wandered away from his side, drawn to the display like a moth to flame. Alhaitham followed, watching as you reached out to touch a delicate hairpin encrusted with tiny, shimmering green stones. 
The vendor, an older woman with a warm smile, caught your fascination and chuckled softly. “A beautiful accessory for a beautiful lady,” she said, her gaze shifting to Alhaitham with a knowing smile.
“Do you like that one?” Alhaitham asked gently. His tone was softened by an affection he didn’t quite manage to conceal.
“Yes,” you replied, your voice almost reverent as you ran your fingers over the hairpin, tracing each glimmering stone as though it held secrets of the ocean within.
He didn’t hesitate, reaching for his pouch and handing the vendor the necessary payment. The woman winked, her smile widening. “Lucky man, I’d say,” she murmured in a voice barely above a whisper, but Alhaitham caught it. He didn’t answer.
With a delighted smile, you thanked the vendor in your own way—a beaming, enchanted expression that lit up the old woman’s face as much as it did Alhaitham’s. You carefully cradled the accessory as if it were the most precious thing you’d ever owned, gazing at it as you walked away. But soon enough, your attention shifted to the scent of roasting fish at a nearby food stall. The vendor there, turning a skewer of freshly spiced fish over an open flame, waved you over with a friendly grin.
As you darted toward the stall, Alhaitham noticed something else in the jewelry display—a pendant with a smooth, iridescent stone that bore a striking resemblance to your tail. Silently, he purchased it, tucking the necklace into his pocket. The vendor gave him a sly look, but he ignored it, focusing instead on you, already entranced by the food stand.
“Oh, to be young again,” the vendor mused as she watched he leaving.
When he caught up with you at the food stall, you were leaning over the counter, staring in awe at the array of delicacies. The stall owner chuckled as you tilted your head curiously, taking in the fish skewers and assorted seafood. “She’s like a little fox in a new den,” he said to Alhaitham, amused by your wide-eyed fascination.
Alhaitham gave a small, knowing smile as he nodded. “You have no idea.”
The scribe exchanged a few coins for one of the skewers, then handed it to you with a small smile. Your fingers barely wrapped around it before you eagerly took a bite—too eager, it turned out, as you winced, the hot fish burning your tongue. Alhaitham sighed softly, his gaze both amused and indulgent.
“Careful,” he murmured, taking the skewer back for a moment and blowing gently on it, cooling it with a practiced patience. Watching him, you imitated his action, blowing on the skewer with the same careful attentiveness, which made his lips tug upward slightly. As he handed it back, you took another bite, this time savoring the flavors more slowly.
As the two of you continued to weave through the market, you marveled at every passing sight—the colors, the sounds of bartering, and the occasional street performer. You paused to watch a dancer swaying gracefully, her movements captivating as her bright clothing fluttered with each spin. Passersby occasionally nodded and greeted Alhaitham, who gave polite nods in return—their eyes going wide open when they saw you standing by his side. His attention, though, often shifted to you, keeping you close as you wandered, enchanted by your enthusiastic wonder.
Eventually, you stopped before a more discreet storefront draped with curtains of deep blue and gold. The sign above bore intricate lettering, and inside, racks and shelves brimmed with garments of all kinds. 
Alhaitham led you in, and you finished the skewer just as he did a quick sweep of the store. Taking the skewer stick, he tossed it into a nearby waste bin and approached the owner, an older gentleman with warm, thoughtful eyes.
The store was a treasure trove of fabrics in every shade, from vibrant hues to rich jewel tones, each piece imbued with a hint of Sumeru’s distinct, earthy style. Alhaitham and the owner spoke in low tones, exchanging opinions on a few pieces he was considering for you. But your eyes soon caught on a different rack—dresses and skirts crafted with delicate fabrics and intricate patterns.
Just then, a younger woman stepped out from behind one of the store’s curtain partitions. She looked you over with a friendly smile, her gaze lingering in admiration. “You have an eye for the finest pieces,” she said, her voice warm. “These are all my father’s designs. Here, let’s find one for you to try.”
She sorted through the rack with a discerning eye before settling on a dress. It was a pearly white, form-fitting but flowing at the hem, with soft layers and gentle ruffles. She led you to the dressing room, helping you into it as you fumbled with the ties and delicate fabric.
When you emerged from behind the dressing room curtain, the woman sighed audibly, her expression caught between pride and awe. Her reaction caught Alhaitham’s attention, and as he turned, his eyes settled on you—and stayed.
The dress fit you in a way that was both modest and striking. The neckline formed a gentle "V" between your collarbones, dipping gracefully but tastefully. The silhouette hugged your curves, enhancing your natural beauty, while the flowing fabric below the waist gave the dress an ethereal elegance, rising just above your heels.
Alhaitham was quiet, his gaze intent, his usual unreadable expression amazed, revealing a glimmer of something deeper—an admiration that ran silently but profoundly through him. He couldn’t look away, as though you’d become the center of his world in that moment.
For a brief moment, you met his eyes, and a silent understanding passed between you. You felt his unspoken thoughts, his breath subtly drawn in awe, and his gaze, filled with softness, lingering as though he was seeing you in a new light.
The shop owner’s voice cut through the moment. “I’d say we’ve found the perfect model for this design,” he said with a chuckle, nodding approvingly at you. “It looks as though it was made for her.”
Alhaitham’s lips curved into a faint smile, and he nodded. “Yeah. Indeed,” he agreed, his tone subdued but genuine. The shop owner offered a discount for future purchases, which Alhaitham accepted gratefully.
After purchasing a few more clothes, Alhaitham approached you and, with a hint of a smile, told you, “You look beautiful.” Though the words were simple, the sincerity in his gaze made them feel more profound. You understood his compliment, your expression softening as you smiled back at him with a shyness that made you glance away, if only for a second.
The shop owner mentioned shoes, but Alhaitham shook his head gently. He knew you’d be more comfortable as you were, free of any restricting footwear.
With your new clothes in hand, you left the place, your eyes still brimming with curiosity. Alhaitham stayed close to you as you continued exploring the bazaar, his mood lightened by the unexpected happiness you seemed to bring him. There was a new excitement in your steps, and he watched with subtle amusement, unable to deny the warmth growing within him as he saw the joy in your expression.
Returning home, you felt content, each step still buzzing with excitement from your discoveries, and the dress Alhaitham bought you flowing like water around you. 
Entering the house, the warm scent of food drifted from the kitchen. Kaveh was already there, busy at the stove, humming softly to himself as he prepared lunch. When he turned around and caught sight of you, his eyes widened, a slow, dazzled-like smile spreading across his face. 
“Well, look at you,” he said warmly, clearly charmed by the sight. “You look wonderful! For the first time, Alhaitham did a good job by buying you this dress,” his tone had a hint of teasing, and you saw Alhaitham’s brow twitch slightly, but he stayed silent, watching the two of you.
Kaveh’s admiration had a certain ease to it, a natural warmth that made you feel instantly welcome. He turned back to the stove, but not without another approving nod at your attire. Alhaitham’s silence prompted him to ask, “So… how was the city?” He threw a teasing glance Alhaitham’s way then at you. “Did our scribe here give you the grand tour all by himself?”
Alhaitham sighed, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “She wasn’t exactly difficult to entertain,” he replied dryly. “Everything was new, so it didn’t take much.”
Kaveh chuckled. 
“Of course it didn’t,” he set the food down, his gaze filled with an amused understanding. Alhaitham merely looked away, feigning indifference, though you sensed a certain pride beneath his casual tone.
During lunch, the two of them recounted little moments from the day—Kaveh enjoying the story of you burning your tongue on the fish skewer, and Alhaitham quietly reliving the way your eyes had sparkled at the Grand Bazaar’s colorful sights. But despite their words, their gazes often turned back to you, captivated by your delight in all the new things you’d encountered.
At one point, Kaveh leaned back, shooting Alhaitham a knowing look.
“So, a personal shopping trip, huh? Just the two of you,” he teased, clearly amused by the idea of Alhaitham guiding someone around. “How sweet.”
Alhaitham narrowed his gaze, giving Kaveh a warning look that said more than words could. But there was a subtle softness in his eyes as they drifted back to you, a sense of quiet caring that you caught, even if he tried to hide it.
After lunch, you noticed Alhaitham start to gathering the dishes, starting to cleaning them as Kaveh made his way to the living room. Walking over him, you lingered, staring at him until Kaveh looked back, caught off guard by your gaze, feeling a bit embarrassed. When you pulled out the hairpin Alhaitham had bought you earlier, he seemed to understand, a faint blush of realization coloring his cheeks.
“Oh, you want me to do your hair?” He chuckled, gesturing for you to sit. “Alright, alright, I’ll help.”
You settled in the chair, feeling his gentle hands working through your hair. He gathered it halfway, securing the rest with the pin and letting loose strands fall around your face. When he was done, he guided you to a mirror, smiling proudly as you took in the sight. The style was simple but lovely, suiting you perfectly.
“Beautiful,” he murmured softly, watching your expression over your shoulders as you took in the effect. For a moment, the two of you were lost in the quietness of that shared moment.
From behind you, a soft sound drew your attention. Alhaitham was standing in the doorway, watching, a fond look on his face. He must have finished cleaning the kitchen but had stayed, observing without saying a word.
You turned back to Kaveh, your gaze warm and filled with gratitude. 
“Kaveh,” you said softly, the name unfamiliar on your tongue but carrying genuine meaning.
His eyes widened, surprise flickering across his face before he grinned, laughing as he leaned back, crossing his arms.
“Finally saying my name, huh?” He teased, though his voice was warm, “I guess even a mermaid knows when to appreciate the finer things.” Despite his playful words, there was an unmistakable happiness in his gaze, as if your small act of gratitude had touched him.
With the meal finished and the midday light softening, the three of you spread out around the house. You curiously inspected the clothes Alhaitham had bought, marveling at the soft fabrics, while the two men chatted in the adjacent room. Kaveh’s voice floated over, calling to his housemate.
“Hey, listen. Cyno passed by earlier inviting us out to the tavern tonight. Tighnari is also coming. I didn’t give him an immediate answer given our… adorable guest,” his gaze flicked meaningfully to you, a question lingering unspoken between the two men.
They both turned, glancing at you thoughtfully. For a moment, you saw them exchange a silent conversation, considering whether the outing might be risky. But then Alhaitham gave a slight nod, resolute.
“We’ll take her with us,” he said confidently. “With the right precautions, it should be fine.” He glanced at you, his eyes filled with the assurance that they’d watch over you. “Besides,” he added with a hint of a smile, “I feel she’d be upset if we don’t take her to explore a little bit more now that she has seen the outside world.”
Kaveh chuckled, nodding. “Then it’s settled. Tonight, we’ll go to the tavern—all three of us.”
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As the sky slowly darkened, anticipation hung in the air, the promise of the evening drawing closer. 
The afternoon had drifted by with Alhaitham trying to teach you new words and phrases, but your attention kept slipping back to the new clothes he’d bought. You ran your fingers over the fabrics, turning them this way and that to catch the light, dazzled with the colors and the softness. Alhaitham eventually gave up, sighing in quiet amusement as he noted just how material and delightfully vain you could be—a discovery he should’ve expected.
Later, you wandered into his suite room to bathe, instinctively drawn to the water. The moment you slipped into the warm tub, your legs transformed back into your shimmering tail, scales glinting under the water’s surface. 
It had left Kaveh speechless the first time he’d seen it—his penny dropping at your truly identity. You were truly a mermaid. Nonetheless, he wasn't less captivated by the change and your graceful form. Alhaitham, however, while more composed, could hardly hide his fascination, watching with a quiet intensity every time he witnessed the transition.
After bathing, you found yourself in a familiar routine: sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting as Alhaitham approached with your clothes. This time, though, he brought one of the recent purchase pieces; a beautiful dress in his hand—its fabric being of a rich, jade green; a vibrant hue that reminds of his own eyes-color but that seemed to intensify the shine and warmth of yours only. 
As he helped you ease into it, his fingers lingered as he adjusted the zipper, his gaze studying you, perhaps more than he realized. And though you found yourself shivering at the intensity of his eyes, there you were too—looking up at him, meeting his gaze firmly and sensing an admiration that he only allowed you to see.
“It suits you,” he murmured, his voice low, a hint of awe slipping through his usually neutral tone. In that dress, you seemed otherworldly, like a goddess who had emerged from the depths of the sea, carrying its beauty onto dry land with impossible grace.
He knelt down then to inspect your injury, noting the lingering redness. Alhaitham carefully applied an ointment, his touch gentle but focused, and you watched his expressions shift with a subtle concern. Then, with a slight nod of satisfaction, he helped you to your feet.
After that, you made your way to Kaveh, showing him the hairpin again, calling his name with a soft voice.
His smile grew, a touch of pride in his gaze as he admired the way his name sounded from your lips, and he took great care in doing your hair once more, letting strands fall loose to frame your face as he did before.
Finally ready, you three left for Lambad’s Tavern. 
The streets were alive with the buzz of evening activity, laughter and music drifting through the air as Alhaitham and Kaveh walked beside you. The city was lit by soft lantern light, and you felt a thrill at being part of it all, the world so different from anything you’d known.
At the tavern, the warm atmosphere enveloped you, the scent of spices and roasted meats filling the air.
Alhaitham spotted Cyno and Tighnari across the room almost immediately as the two of them also turned as you approached. Their greeting smiles fainted when their gazes fell on you, a moment of pure awe passing over their faces afterwards. Cyno blinked, visibly stunned, while Tighnari’s foxy-ears twitched, his sharp eyes widening in surprise.
The General Mahamatra, usually so composed, couldn’t seem to look away, his thoughts racing. He was accustomed to beauty in the world around him, yet something about your presence felt almost magical, like an ethereal vision he couldn’t quite understand.
As for Tighnari, his keen senses took in every detail—the way the green dress brought out the otherworldly depth in your eyes, or the elegance of your form. You were unlike anyone he’d ever encountered, and he was captivated, even if he tried to hide it.
Before any questions could arise, Kaveh, ever the quick-thinker, stepped in with an explanation. “She’s an exchange student. From Fontaine,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. “She’s staying with us while she studies…uh, the culture of Sumeru.”
Alhaitham sighed at the obviousness of Kaveh’s excuse, but he didn’t counter it. Cyno and Tighnari shared a skeptical glance, clearly doubting the story, yet they chose not to press further. Instead, Alhaitham formally introduced you, mentioning your name, which you responded to with a slight, graceful nod and a cute ‘hello’ following.
But feeling the need to greet them in the way of your kind, you leaned closer, gently rubbing your nose against theirs. 
Kaveh gasped out loud.
Cyno’s eyes widened, a slight flush crept up his cheeks as he froze, uncharacteristically at a loss. Tighnari, caught off guard, felt his ears tensing, the action both charming and bewildering him. Your giggles bubbled up as you noticed their flustered expressions, a soft, musical sound that filled the space between you all.
Kaveh let out a nervous chuckle. “Ah…yeah, that’s—uh, her way of saying hello. Strange, right? These Fontaine’ people…”
Alhaitham, on the other hand, observed it all with a hint of entertainment, his gaze lingering on you fondly. Watching your interactions, he noted how naturally you’d adapted to his world, your curiosity and unique charm drawing everyone in, effortlessly weaving you into their circle. There was warmth in his eyes, a feeling that spoke of his growing fondness, and you caught his gaze, offering him a small, contented smile.
As the group settled in, you sat across from Cyno and Tighnari, studying them both with unabashed curiosity. 
Still recovering from your unexpected greeting, the two men seemed unsure of where to look, awkwardly averting their eyes when you met their gaze. Alhaitham leaned back in his chair, a hint of amusement in his expression as he explained, “She’s not much for words, as you can see. Rather, she’s more the observant type.”
Cyno and Tighnari nodded, seeming to understand, though their curiosity was hardly quelled. 
The tavern around you started to fill with more patrons, the hum of voices rising, mingling with the occasional laugh, the sounds coming from different instruments and the clinking of glasses. It created a cozy warmth in the dimly lit space, and you felt it settle over you as if you were part of something larger, an integral piece in the lively tapestry of Sumeru’s life.
Kaveh wasted no time flagging down the bartender. “Bring your best wine,” he said with a grand, somewhat theatrical gesture, earning a sigh from Alhaitham.
Meanwhile, Tighnari leaned in toward you, his ears twitching with interest as he tried to engage you in conversation.
“So, do you like Sumeru so far?” he asked, a gentle curiosity in his tone.
You nodded with an enthusiastic “Yes”—the single word clear and confident, though it was accompanied by a slight tilt of your head.
Encouraged, he asked, “Do you enjoy learning about plants and animals?” Tighnari’s eyes sparkled, and you could tell he was ready to launch into an explanation if given the chance.
You paused, then shook your head, “No,” you answered, earning a quiet chuckled from Alhaitham.
“Ah, I see,” Tighnari replied, trying to hide his mild disappointment. “What about... Alhaitham and Kaveh?” His eyes glanced toward Alhaitham, who pretend to ignore his friend’s question.
You didn’t thought twice when you answered “Yes” with an affectionate smile, which made Tighnari smirk.
While you answered, you noticed Cyno observing you intently, his gaze unwavering and sharp. It wasn’t suspicious—it was more as if he were studying a puzzle, his curiosity piqued by your every move. His face softened whenever he noticed the subtle gestures that replaced your lack of words, as though trying to understand this new, unfamiliar way of communicating.
When the food and wine finally arrived, you noticed each man taking their mugs and raising them in a silent toast, exchanging knowing glances.
Intrigued, you pointed at Alhaitham’s drink, brows raised with interest. He looked at you hesitantly. “I’m not sure you’ll like it,” he warned, his tone gentle but unsure. Still, he handed you a mug.
The moment you tasted the wine, your expression twisted as the bitter taste hit your tongue. The others burst out laughing as you grimaced, clearly displeased.
Kaveh, grinning widely, leaned over with an exaggerated shrug. “Not everyone appreciates a fine vintage on the first try,” he teased, eyes sparkling with the warmth of the wine already.
But then, determined, you lifted the mug to your lips and downed the rest in a single go. As you set the mug down, you pointed to it, your eyes sparkling with challenge. The table fell silent for a beat, and then Kaveh broke into a delighted laugh. “Oh, now that’s spirit!” he cheered, filling your mug again with exaggerated enthusiasm.
Alhaitham, a touch surprised but clearly amused, leaned closer and murmured, “Take easy, ok?” His tone was warm, carrying that familiar attentiveness, the kind of care he often tried to mask with practicality. You met his gaze and gave a small nod, though your mischievous smile was enough to tell him you weren’t exactly planning on slowing down.
As the evening went on, the wine kept flowing, and so did the laughter. Kaveh quickly grew tipsy, his cheeks flushed as he leaned into his chair with a self-satisfied grin, occasionally throwing his arm around you, Cyno or Tighnari as he launched into some anecdote about his “architectural genius,” much to Alhaitham’s thinly veiled eye-rolls.
“Oh, and then,” Kaveh slurred, nudging Cyno with a huff, “there was that time Alhaitham here tried to negotiate a ‘reasonable’ discount on my work. Can you believe that?” He snorted, casting a playful, slightly glazed look in Alhaitham’s direction. “I swear, he’d argue the wind into changing direction if it suited him.”
Alhaitham only raised a brow, looking at him with an expression that silently asked for patience. “Kaveh, if I hadn’t ‘negotiated,’ you’d still be working to pay off last month’s tab.”
Tighnari chuckled, watching the exchange. “You two really are quite the pair,” he commented, taking a sip of his drink, his gaze shifting between the two of them with an amused glint.
Cyno, turning his attention to you, said, “Do you always put up with them like this?” His tone was deadpan, yet you sensed a glimmer of humor beneath his serious gaze.
Understanding his question, you nodded, a soft laugh escaping you. They all seemed to lighten up, relaxing in the warmth of your quiet amusement.
As the night deepened, Cyno set his drink down with a look of pure focus. “How about a round of TCG?” he suggested, eyes gleaming with anticipation. Tighnari let out a groan, tilting his head back dramatically.
“Oh no, not this again,” he sighed, but even he knew there was no escape.
Kaveh laughed, rolling his eyes in good-natured defeat.
“Fine, fine. But we’re keeping it short, or we’ll never hear the end of it from you,” he reached for his glass and gave you a playful wink. “Prepare yourself for the most intense game you’ve ever seen,” he said, clearly intending to make a spectacle of Cyno’s enthusiasm.
Curious, you leaned closer, watching as Cyno arranged the cards and dice with meticulous precision. His fingers moved quickly, each card laid down like a sacred ritual. Noticing your interest, he paused to offer a brief explanation of the game’s mechanics. 
“It’s all about strategy,” he explained, his tone almost reverent. “You play a character card, use skills, and roll dice to see how much power you have.” His eyes narrowed, smiling as he continued, “And don’t think it’s as simple as it sounds.”
You blinked, absorbing his words, but you barely had time to form a plan before the game was underway. 
Somehow, against all odds, you won the first round. The table fell into a mix of laughter and shock, each of them offering half-joking explanations.
“Beginner’s luck,” Tighnari insisted, though there was a glint of amusement in his eye.
Alhaitham chuckled softly. “Maybe (Y/N) is just a natural.”
But as the rounds continued, it became clear that “luck” wasn’t the only thing helping you.
One match after another, you swept the table, your fingers moving with a natural, effortless grace as you outplayed each of them. Cyno’s brow furrowed in concentration, and you could practically see the gears turning in his mind as he tried, unsuccessfully, to decode your moves.
Finally, with a mixture of disbelief and exasperation, Cyno looked at his cards in silence. “How…?” he muttered, half to himself.
Kaveh snorted, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “Face it, man, she’s just unbeatable tonight. You, my friend, have been dethroned.”
Tighnari grinned, amused by Cyno’s frustration. “It’s impressive, honestly. Even the Champion of TCG is no match for her.”
You laughed, lifting your glass in a playful toast to your victory, which earned a round of mock cheers from the others. 
Alhaitham’s gaze was soft as he watched you—your enthusiasm, the brightness in your eyes as you revel in the thrill of each win. He’d seen you embracing new experiences and adventures of his ordinary day with open arms.
From the quiet enthusiasm when you learned a new word to the happiness back in the bazaar, and now, this lively night at the tavern—he felt an undeniable warmth, a subtle pull that went beyond simple admiration.
Just as another round was about to start, a group of local men, drunk and brimming with energy, pulled Kaveh from his chair and into a circle. “Come on, architect! Show us your moves!” they cheered, clapping their hands and forming a semi-circle for him to lead. With a laugh, Kaveh obliged, seamlessly joining them in the traditional dabke.
You watched in fascination, your attention captivated by the rhythmic stomping and spirited clapping. 
Kaveh’s movements were fluid, each step and stomp precise yet brimming with exuberance. His grin was infectious, and you found yourself clapping along, enchanted by the lively beat that seemed to pulse through the entire tavern.
Noticing your joy, Kaveh reached out and took your hand, pulling you into the half-circle. “Come on! You’ll love it!” he encouraged, and you laughed, letting yourself be drawn into the dance. 
Standing beside him, you mirrored his movements as best as you could, and although your steps were hesitant at first, his laughter and the others’ encouragement quickly dissolved any nervousness.
You found yourself swept up in the joy of the moment, your laughter ringing out as you stomped and clapped in sync with Kaveh. The tavern patrons cheered, a few even joining in to expand the circle. Each beat of the music seemed to echo in your heart, a vibrant, untamed rhythm that made you feel alive. Your hair swayed with each movement, your dress flowed around you as if it had a life of its own. For a brief moment, you forgot everything else, lost in the pure exhilaration of dance and laughter.
Watching from the sidelines, Alhaitham’s gaze lingered on you. 
He didn’t need to say a word; his expression spoke volumes. In his eyes, you were radiant—a vision of grace, strength, and unrestrained joy. He couldn’t help but marvel at how easily you fit into this place, how naturally you became part of it despite its strangeness. His chest tightened, a burning ache settling there, unfamiliar and yet… welcome. He remembered the first time he’d seen you, not too long ago, feeling vulnerable and cautious. Yet here you were, laughter filling the air, eyes alight with joy.
He hadn’t expected this—a mermaid, of all things, to stir something so profoundly human within him. But watching you, he couldn’t deny the feeling. It wasn’t simply admiration or intrigue anymore. It was something real, deeper, something that made his pulse quicken whenever he locked your gazes whenever you shared a fleeting smile or a touch of silent understanding.
A sudden chuckle from Tighnari pulled him from his thoughts, and he glanced over to see his friend smirking knowingly. “Not joining them?” He teased, his voice pitched just low enough for Alhaitham to hear.
Alhaitham glanced back at you, his lips curving in a slight smile. “I’m enjoying the view.”
Tighnari hummed, raising a brow. “Seems like you’re enjoying more than just the view.”
Ignoring Tighnari’s comment once again, Alhaitham focused his attention on you once more. 
When your eyes met, he felt that sensation again—a quiet acknowledgment of something unspoken but deeply felt. He gave you a subtle nod, his gaze lingering, as if committing this moment to memory.
When the dance ended, you were breathless, your cheeks flushed with happiness as you returned to the table. Kaveh, very tipsy and clearly pleased, clinked his glass against yours. “You were fantastic!” he cheered, his eyes bright with genuine pride.
Laughing, you took a sip of your drink, catching Alhaitham’s eye as you did. 
Ever since you started to live with him, sharing his culture, entering in the lonely empty of his heart and connecting with every detail that made of Alhaitham who he is, his intense gaze was something you couldn’t escape from—although neither did you want it when you were so mesmerized by him as he seemed to be with you. 
But tonight, something was different—something indescribable, unknown but pleasant, sent a soft thrill through you. This was more than a shared moment—it was a promise, a silent connection that seemed to anchor you both, even amidst the noise surrounding you.
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The night had fully settled by the time the three of you left the tavern. 
The streets were nearly empty, bathed in the soft silver glow of a full moon overhead. A gentle breeze moved through the quiet city, carrying the faint, earthy scent of Sumeru’s flora. Stars scattered like distant lanterns in the sky, each one casting a pinprick of light over the tranquil world below. You looked up, awestruck by the vastness of the sky here. It was as if the city itself was cradled in the arms of the heavens, each corner brushed with stardust.
Alhaitham glanced at you, noticing the quiet wonder in your eyes as you took in the night’s beauty.
In the soft moonlight, your face was illuminated with an almost ethereal glow, your expression open and unguarded. Something about the way you stood there, gazing upwards as if communing with the stars, pulled invisible strings in his chest. Alhaitham found himself watching you in silence, the affection in his gaze hidden in the shadows, an unspoken tenderness that he wasn’t yet ready to voice.
Beside you, Kaveh swayed unsteadily, mumbling to himself in an incomprehensible mixture of words. You giggled, finding his drunken ramblings endlessly amusing, while Alhaitham sighed, shaking his head in disapproval but unable to suppress a small smile. He’d been prepared to carry Kaveh’s weight on his own, but you easily supported your share, surprising him with your hidden strength as you steadied the unsteady architect. You felt Alhaitham’s curious gaze settle on you, but you kept your eyes on Kaveh, helping guide him as he slurred out half-formed songs and laughter.
When you finally arrived at home, the quiet settled around you like a warm embrace. 
Together, you and Alhaitham gently placed Kaveh onto his bed, his face sinking blissfully into the pillows as he drifted into a heavy, blissful sleep. You both lingered for a moment, watching to make sure he was comfortable, before retreating to the living room, leaving Kaveh to his dreams.
Once there, the two of you stood alone, the silence wrapping around you like silk. The dim lamplight cast soft shadows across the room, pooling in the spaces between you. You faced each other, yet no words came—none were needed. 
Your eyes met his, and in that moment, something unspoken passed between you, a silent understanding woven with the night’s intimacy. It was a conversation of looks alone, a language more ancient than words. Your heart felt full, as if it were holding a secret too precious to release.
Alhaitham’s gaze held yours, steady and unwavering, as he reached into his pocket and drew out the small chain he’d bought back at the bazaar. The gemstone's shiny and iridescent hues caught the light, reflecting shades that soon reminded you of your tail’s colors—a perfect echo of your hidden self. 
He held it out to you, his lips curving into a wise smile that reached his eyes.
Without a word, he gestured for you to turn around. You did so, your heart pounding with anticipation as he draped the chain around your neck, his fingers brushing the nape of your neck as he fastened the clasp. The warmth of his touch lingered even after his hands moved away, and you lifted a hand to the pendant, feeling its weight settle over your heart.
Looking down, you felt a surge of emotions, a mixture of joy and affection as you admired the gift. But it wasn’t just happiness—it was something deeper, something far beyond simple gratitude. 
When you lifted your gaze back to him, your expression was serene, eyes glimmering with unspoken emotions.
Slowly, you reached up, placing a hand on his neck and gently pulling his face closer. Without hesitation, you leaned in, touching your forehead against his—a significant and intimate gesture but full of affection.
“Thank you,” you murmured, the words carrying layers of meaning, a depth that went beyond the simple gesture. It was gratitude for more than just the necklace—it was for his kindness, his patience, his caring, for seeing you in a way no one else could. For being a safe harbor in this unfamiliar world.
He was taken aback for a moment, the soft touch of your skin against his both surprising and disarming him. But then, a quiet smile forming as he held your gaze, his hand coming up to gently cradle your cheek. 
“You’re welcome,” he replied, his voice a gentle murmur, his thumb tracing a light path along your cheekbone.
Your hands lingered on his neck, feeling the softness of its skin and his hair, his own expression melting into something almost vulnerable. 
For a long, endless moment, you stayed there, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath, to catch the quiet tenderness in his jade eyes.
Neither of you spoke, letting the silence stretch, filling the room with the weight of implicity emotions. His gaze held yours, steady, and yet within it was a flicker of that deeper, unguarded feeling—a quiet, burgeoning affection that made your heart race.
Time seemed to stand still as you looked into each other’s eyes, a shared warmth weaving between you, a silent promise that neither of you had the words to speak.
And maybe, you didn’t even need it. 
[continue...]
267 notes · View notes
catmiemy · 10 months ago
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Not All Change Is Bad (Lia Wälti x Reader)
Summary: Now that you know Lia has feelings for you, you have to figure out where to go from there.
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The next morning you woke up exhausted, only having managed to fall asleep for a few minutes at a time. You were weirdly relieved when you checked your phone and it was finally an acceptable time to get up.
A/N: Thanks to the long weekend I actually finished this second part already. You can find the first part here.
This got a bit longer than I thought and I didn't even include most of the fluff at the end that I already planned out. So potentially there could be a third part focused more on happiness with a bit of angst. Let me know if you'd liked to read that. :)
Nadine was still sleeping soundly, so you didn’t have to deal with her seeing the mess you were. You headed straight to the bathroom, annoyed with yourself when you saw how horrible you looked in the mirror. There were dark bags underneath your red eyes, spots all over your cheeks from rubbing away all the tears and your hair resembled a bird’s nest from all the tossing and turning you had done.
You quickly went to work to make yourself more presentable. The last thing you wanted was for Lia to feel guilty when she saw you. You would be damned if you made this any harder for her than it had to be, and if the only thing you could do was pretend you were okay you would do that.
In your noble quest you completely forgot to take into consideration that to Lia’s eyes it would seem like this whole situation hadn’t affected you at all. She almost burst into tears when she saw how put together you looked, the only thing saving her from it, was Ana pointing out all the signs that you were actually not fine that were right underneath the surface of your carefully crafted façade.
The whole camp felt like torture to you and more than once you wished it was finally over. But every time you did you remembered that at Arsenal you would still see Lia, who could barely look into your direction anymore and darted away whenever you were anywhere close to her, almost every day. And back home Jessica was waiting for you.
Your girlfriend and you still hadn’t talked or even texted, which wasn’t too uncommon on Jessica’s part after an argument. Her go to reaction was to completely ignore you, while you usually did everything to get your girlfriend to forgive you, sending long, heartfelt texts, buying her small gifts, apologizing over and over again. You had never questioned if this was okay or healthy, and you didn’t really question it now, you just didn’t have the energy to do it, so you didn’t.
Every once in a while you remembered how you had completely ignored her call after you had asked to talk that night and were hit by a pang of guilt. You should reach out to your girlfriend. And you also should talk to Lia, make things easier for her. You should be fine with all of this, you should communicate more and better, you shouldn’t let this distract you from football, you shouldn’t feel like hiding away for the rest of your life.
As the days passed you became increasingly frustrated with yourself and your inability to do any of the things you should do. The only thing you managed to do halfway decently was keep up appearances well enough. Sure, many of your teammates checked in with you, but they accepted your forced smile and your fake cheerfulness as you assured them that you were totally fine.
Ana was a different story. She tried to push a bit harder, but every time she did, you sent her right back to Lia. “Please just make sure she’s alright, yeah? I’m totally fine, don’t worry about me.”
This did nothing to stop your friend from worrying, nonetheless she always listened to your request, well aware that the only person you really felt comfortable opening up to was Lia. Therefore Ana could only hope that as time passed the two of you managed to find your way back to each other again, maybe even as more than best friends. She still held out hope that you actually returned Lia’s feelings and just needed a little longer to figure that out.
As much as you had often wished camp was over when it actually was and you were boarding the plane to take you back to London, you desperately wanted to stay. Going back home meant you could no longer ignore the whole situation with Jessica and how horrible you’d been acting. It took every ounce of your willpower to force your feet to take you into the plane.
Another thing you dreaded was spending the flight next to Lia, although a small part of you also clung to some hope that the forced proximity would do you good, give you a chance to talk. However as you found your seat all that hope was ripped from you, in the seat that should have been Lia’s sat Noelle, smiling at you sympathetically.
All you could do to avoid breaking down right then and there was to sink down in your seat and blast music into your ears. Thankfully Noelle got the hint and left you alone.
Throughout the flight you did your best to keep your mind occupied with doing at least three things simultaneously. Nevertheless, the closer you got to landing the more your anxiety spiked. Poor Noelle was probably getting annoyed by your constant leg bouncing and fidgeting. Not that the gentle woman would ever say anything.
At the airport when you were slowly heading to the exit to catch a cab back to your apartment you were suddenly stopped by Lia’s voice, “Y/N, wait!”
With a racing heart you stopped in your tracks, turning to face your best friend. Although were you even allowed to call her that anymore?
Lia approached you with a worried face, picking at her cuticles, a clear indication to you that she was nervous. This hurt; you never wanted to get to a place where she was nervous to talk to you.
“I know things are weird between us right now and I really want to move past it, I just don’t know how yet. But…I still wanted to check in. Are you okay to go home? I know you left things with Jessica in a weird place and you looked almost scared on the plane and no matter where we stand I’m still always here for you,” Lia rushed out.
Your heart cracked and all the tears you had held back on this day so far gathered in your eyes, blurring your vision. How very Lia of her to still worry about you and ignore her own emotions and insecurities to make sure you were okay when you were the reason she was so miserable. 
You shook your head and blinked harshly to chase away the tears, then you plastered a what you hoped to be reassuring smile on your face.
“That’s very sweet of you, but please don’t worry about me, I’m totally fine, and after all these years I know how to deal with Jessica.”
Pain flashed in Lia’s eyes and you kicked yourself for bringing up how long you had been with your girlfriend. Way to hurt her more!
She smiled back at you and you could only hope that your smile had been more convincing than hers. “Okay, but never forget that I’m still always here for you.”
And with a goodbye Lia walked away from you, leaving you with an aching heart. Now that you had spoken with her again, it was even more painful to go back to this weird place of not talking. You wanted to run after her, share a ride like you normally did, and maybe hide out at her apartment for the rest of your life so you never had to deal with Jessica.
In front of the door to the apartment Jessica and you shared you took a moment to hype yourself up. You could do this, you had done this about a million times. Maybe it had never been this bad, but you would just have to grovel a little more.
You entered the apartment, calling out to your girlfriend. Just as you expected you didn’t get a response. Maybe she wasn’t home! Even if that would only postpone the argument for a little while, you still wanted it to be true.
Sadly you were out of luck. You quickly found Jessica sitting on the couch, staring at her phone and completely ignoring your presence.
“Hi,” you greeted her awkwardly, your girlfriend still not showing any signs of having noticed you. “Look I’m sorry I didn’t pick up the phone and haven’t reached out since. This camp has been absolutely crazy.”
It was a weak explanation, and definitely not enough to get Jessica to acknowledge you again. To even have any hope of getting there you would need to apologize and beg. However when you were searching for the right words, you realized that you didn’t want to do it this time. You were tired of these same old patterns that always left you feeling like you weren’t good enough.
You weren’t someone that got mad often, but now you could feel all the suppressed feelings inside of you rapidly turning into anger.
“Can you just cut this crap out and talk to me like an equal human being?” You snapped at Jessica.
At least you succeeded in getting a reaction. She dropped her phone, turning to you, the surprise on her face quickly morphing into anger just as intense as your own.
“Excuse me?! Who has been ignoring me for the last ten days after not picking up the phone when it was you who suggested we talk that night? I think I have every right to be angry,” Jessica yelled back at you.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t be angry, but acting as if I’m air is just plain childish! I said I was sorry and I also said that things have been crazy, but apparently you don’t care about that.”
Jessica rolled her eyes. “Okay then, what crazy thing happened that stopped you from contacting me at all? Did the monster under the bed steal your phone? Or did aliens project a force field around your camp, stopping all electronic devices from working?”
Her mocking only made you angrier, so without thinking about it if it was wise to reveal this to Jessica, you told her about learning of Lia’s feelings for you.
After that all hell broke loose, everything the two of you had kept inside for way too long spilling out in hurtful words, ending in a scream match that had neither of you even hearing what the other was saying anymore.
In the end it was you who said the fateful words, “I think it’s high time that we break up! Well it was probably high time years ago and we were just too stuck to notice.
“No, I don’t accept that! You don’t break up with me, I’m breaking up with you,” Jessica retorted.
By now most of the anger had drained from your body, you just shrugged your shoulders. “Whatever, I’m leaving.”
Once you were out of the apartment you just started walking; the entire palette of negative emotions fighting for the lead inside of you. Before too long you found yourself standing in front of Lia’s little house. Just the sight of the familiar building that had been your refuge so often in the past was enough to break down the emotional barriers you had carefully constructed over the last couple of weeks, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks.
Lia had said you could still come over if something happened. So despite feeling more than a little unsure about it, you walked up to the front door and knocked. You needed her right now and if she would send you away you didn’t know if you could deal with it.
Of course there was no reason to worry, Lia didn’t miss a bit, ushering you into her apartment and holding you tightly while you cried your eyes out. You weren’t coherent enough to explain what had happened, but from the bits and pieces you managed to get out, she got the gist of it.
Somewhere in the back of your mind was some immense guilt for making Lia take care of you after everything, however it was drowned out by how safe you felt in your best friend’s arms. You wanted to stay there for the rest of your life, blocking out the rest of the world.
After your crying session you were hit by a wave of extreme tiredness, your eyes fluttering shut every so often. Lia gently massaged the back of your scalp, knowing you were prone to tenseness there, and it was making you even sleepier.
“Do you want to stay here tonight?” She offered.
.
You should refuse, you should pull yourself together and leave Lia be, maybe call Leah to come over and check up on her after you had once again dumped your emotions all over her. You should be a better person and do that, instead you mumbled, “Yeah, I’d like that very much.”
The two of you got ready for bed. Lia insisted on it, you would have happily stayed on the couch in your regular clothes without brushing your teeth if it meant you didn’t have to move. There wasn’t any need for using a spare toothbrush or borrowing some clothes from Lia, you had left this kind of stuff here ages ago. It was just easier this way with all the impromptu sleepovers you had.
The two of you lay down on your respective sides of the bed, facing each other like you usually did to exchange some whispered words before falling asleep. You were already half asleep, not alert enough to stop yourself from mumbling, “I really really missed you, Schätzi. So stupid of me not to realize I also have feelings for you.”
You drifted off to sleep immediately afterwards, completely missing the way Lia went rigid as she heard your words, an onslaught of different emotions hitting her. The hardest one to deal with was the renewed hope she had mostly buried long ago. For years she had dreamt of you telling her that you felt the same way, she had played out hundreds of different scenarios of how it might happen. And Lia thought it would make her the happiest person on the planet.
However now that you had said the words, she was just scared. Scared that you didn’t really mean it, scared that you were merely confused by the emotional rollercoaster you were going through, scared that you were only clinging to her because Lia was familiar and comforting.
When you woke up the next morning the bed next to you was empty. For one blissful nanosecond you thought this was just a normal sleepover until all the memories hit you with full force. Shame and guilt began eating at you for putting Lia in this position, not only had you shown up here and made her comfort you after your breakup, you had also blurted out that you too have feelings for her at the most inappropriate time possible.
Not that it wasn’t true. The realization had been simmering underneath the surface for a while, not something that you were ready to acknowledge yet, but now that you had, there was no doubt left in your mind. So that wasn’t the problem, the problem was that it absolutely been the wrong moment to say it.
With a rapidly beating heart you finally got out of bed, determined to find Lia and apologize. You found her in the kitchen, staring into her cup of coffee. She looked dead tired, almost slumping onto the table. This only made you feel even guiltier. No doubt had your careless words cost your best friend some sleep.
Despite everything Lia still offered you a weak smile and got up to get you a cup of coffee. You tried to protest, but she simply waved away your words. Lia never trusted you to make your own coffee; she knew you had a tendency to make it too strong which then in turn made you a little hyper. 
“I’m sorry,” you said at the same time as your best friend stated, “There are some things I need to say.”
You nodded, gesturing at Lia to continue talking; she deserved to go first and get everything she wanted off her chest.
The brunette took a deep breath and when she began talking it sounded rehearsed, making you wonder how early she had gotten up to prepare and practice this whole speech. “I thought about all this for a long time and as much as I want to be the one to support you through this breakup, I don’t think I can.”
“What you said yesterday before falling asleep…It was everything I’ve wanted to hear for the longest time, but I think it’s important that you take your time to figure things out and make sure that you actually mean it.”
You opened your mouth to assure Lia that you did, how could you not? But one pleading look from her was enough to shut you up. She wasn’t ready to hear it; nothing you could say would make Lia fully believe it.
“So let’s just take some time, yeah? This way you can work through your breakup and everything else,” the brunette concluded.
Once again you nodded, even if it wasn’t what you wanted at all. You totally understood Lia’s request for some time apart and you would give her as much as she needed. After all she had apparently been waiting for you for years, so this was the least you could do.
“I don’t want to kick you out, but I really believe this is what’s best for us in the long run. But I can help you call one of our teammates so you can stay with them if you don’t want to go home?” Lia offered.
She was clearly conflicted about this course of action, still worrying about you. Therefore you quickly shook your head, reassuring the midfielder that you were fine and already had a plan. “Please don’t worry about me,” you told Lia more than once.
However the fact that you got up after saying this and walked towards the front door still in your pajamas definitely didn’t help your case.
“You know you can get dressed and even take a shower first,” Lia said, trying to keep her voice light and joking, when in reality your confusion scared her. Would you really be okay?
After taking a swift shower you felt a little more like yourself and managed to convince Lia that you wouldn’t walk right into a disaster if she let you out of her sight.
Saying goodbye was awkward, both of you looking at each other, unsure what to do. You longed to hug your best friend, but you didn’t think that would be welcome right now, so you merely waved at Lia lamely and told her you would see her at training.
During your shower you had come up with a plan; you waited until you were sure Jessica would have left for work, then you went to the apartment and packed a bg. All of your teammates would have happily let you stay with them, but you didn’t feel comfortable going to any of them, so instead you headed to a nearby hotel.
The moment you closed the door of your hotel room behind you, you sank to the floor, breaking down completely. You had thought you had cried yourself all out last night, but apparently there was an inexhaustible fountain of fresh tears somewhere inside of you.
That’s how you spent the rest your day, crying in various places. At some point you moved from the door to the bed, staying there until you had to go to the bathroom, crying on the floor leaning against the bathtub for a good while.
It was a small mercy that you feel asleep pretty early, exhausted from all the crying and from beating yourself up mentally. You were so angry at yourself for how you had treated both Lia and Jessica, you should have been better!
The next morning you felt like you had a hangover, your head pounding. However at least you were in control of your waterworks again, so you were hopeful you wouldn’t start crying during training. After another shower and a quick breakfast you felt a little better, confident in your ability to pretend to be a normal human being for as long as you needed.
And that’s what you did, not only that day but also the following ones. You acted throughout the day like you were fine, when someone asked you how you were, you stated time and time again that you were fine, no matter how much anyone could see that you weren’t.
The biggest challenge to your composure were the sad looks Lia kept sending your way when she thought you didn’t notice. It hurt you on a visceral level that you were the reason she was so miserable. In reality that wasn’t why Lia continued to look at you like this, it wasn’t because you had made her unhappy, but because she hated to see you take so little care of yourself and quietly falling apart in front of her eyes.
Every day as soon as you could you would go home, declining every invite to hangout from your teammates, because as soon as you stumbled into your hotel room, the tears returned, and all you could do for the rest of the day, was lay in bed, cry and berate yourself.
How had you been so stupid and not noticed Lia’s feeling for you? Why were you so weak and pathetic and ran right to her side after your breakup when you knew this would only make it more difficult for her? Furthermore you also felt horrible for how you had left things with Jessica. Sure, your relationship hadn’t been good for a while, but she deserved more from you!
About a week later you were once again laying in your hotel bed, staring at the ceiling, hating on yourself when your phone rang. You planned to ignore it, like you had been doing for the most part lately, but it kept on ringing again and again. With a deep sigh you picked up without looking at the caller ID.
“Hello,” you croaked, your voice hoarse from crying.
“Y/N where the hell are you?!” Ana almost shouted.
Confused you started at the phone. “What?”
“Where are you?” Ana repeated a little slower, “I know you aren’t at home because the lovely Jessica told me as much and after doing some inquires I also know you aren’t with any of your teammates, so where are you?”
All of this could only mean one thing, Ana was in London and you really weren’t prepared to give up your plan of wallowing in misery to face her.
“I’m at a hotel. Happy? Now go and see Lia, I think she could use a friend,“ you replied, praying that this was enough to satisfy Ana.
You should have known that it wasn’t and you also should have known that your friend would figure out the only way to get you to tell her your location.
“You better tell me right now where you are or I’m calling Lia and tell her that you’re hiding out all alone in a hotel,” Ana threatened.
“Ugh fine,” you huffed angrily, letting her know what hotel you were staying at and your room number. Then you hung up the phone without as much as saying goodbye. If Ana was going to be like this, you sure as hell weren’t going to be polite.
You used the time you had until Ana’s arrival to make yourself look a little more presentable. It only worked semi-decently and the traces of your most recent breakdown were still very much visible on your face when you heard the dreaded knock.
“Oh Spatz,” Ana sighed when she laid eyes on you, guiding you carefully over to the bed and basically pulling you into her lap.
To your great annoyance the tears took this as an invitation to start falling again right away, and it took a good while for them to stop.
“Y/N what are you doing?” Ana asked you gently once you had calmed down.
You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m doing my best to give Lia the time she needs,” you explained.
Ana tilted her head to the side, studying you intently. “Time for what exactly?”
“To get over my stupid behavior, to figure out if she still wants to be with someone as horrible as me, to heal all the parts of her heart that I’ve hurt. Take your pick,” you replied, the anger for yourself making your voice harsh, almost hateful.
“Oh Spatz,” Ana said once again, reaching over to tuck a strand of her behind your ear. “You’re being way too hard on yourself, just because you didn’t handle everything perfectly and made some mistakes along the way doesn’t mean that you’re a bad person”
“And I can tell you that that’s not what Lia is thinking at all. She didn’t propose this time apart because she needs to figure things out. She knows exactly what she wants, she has known for years. You on the other hand just got out of very long term relationship. Lia wants you to take enough time to deal with that and process your feelings before you jump into something new. She’s waiting for you to be ready and at this rate you’re never going to be. You can’t just ignore everything, Y/N!”
It took a lot more reassuring on Ana’s part until you could even begin to believe her. Thankfully your friend was very patient and kept telling you the same things over and over again until a small seed of hope was planted inside of you.
She didn’t leave it at that though, Ana also helped you make a list of things you could do over the next few weeks to help you process everything. Journaling was on the top of the list, as ws eating regular meals and not spending too much time in bed. Furthermore you vowed to contact Jessica and figure out how to proceed with your shared apartment, and on Ana’s insistence you promised to talk to your teammates more and spend time with them instead of holing up by yourself all the time.
You actually followed this list meticulously, and made sure to give Ana regular updates. Especially once you got the sneaking suspicion that she in turn informed Lia how you were doing because the midfielder looked more and more relaxed every day. The first time she smiled at you again your heart skipped a beat and you felt like a lovesick teenager. Then slowly Lia stopped keeping her distance, you still didn’t talk just the two of you but being part of the same group conversation became a regular occurrence.
After about three weeks you gathered all your courage and decided to ask Lia if she wanted to have coffee. It was a weird feeling that something that used to be the most mundane thing ever made you want to jump out of your skin. Doubts were flying around your mind as you walked towards Lia. The big smile that appeared on her face as she saw you definitely helped to make you feel a little calmer.
“Do you want to get coffee?“ You blurted out, mentally face palming at your lack of eloquence.
Lia chuckled, finding exactly this awkwardness endearing. „Yeah, I’d love to,“ she replied to your relief.
After training you met up at a coffee shop you had gone to a million times in the past, but this time felt entirely different, you might as well have been on another planet.
Once the two of you had found some seats and ordered your beverages, Lia looked at you expectantly. You had this all planned out, but now your mind was completely blank and you couldn’t think of a single thing you wanted to say.
Dejected you buried your face in your hands. “Man I’m so bad at this. Sorry, Lia!” You moaned.
Lia gently tugged your finger away from your face, holding on a little longer than necessary. “This isn’t a test, Y/N, just start with why you asked me out for coffee and then we’ll go from there. I don’t expect a perfectly rehearsed speech.”
You did expect that from yourself though because you knew Lia would have been able to deliver one. Sadly you were once again a disappointment to yourself, so there was nothing else to do than follow Lia’s advice.
“I guess the main reason is that I missed you. So much that it’s sometimes difficult to breath and if there’s one thing I know for sure by now it’s that I can’t imagine a future that you’re not part of. I can’t believe how stupid I was not to realize that ages ago.”
At this Lia huffed unhappily, she didn’t like the way you put yourself down at all. Despite this she didn’t interject, she didn’t want to stop your flow of words, knowing how hard it would be for you to get back into the mindset of sharing so freely, even with her.
“So often I was happy to get out of the apartment Jessica and I shared to spend time with you. When something good happened or well I guess also something bad you were always the first person I wanted to share it with. Nothing makes me happier than to see you happy and when you smile at me my entire world lights up. I can’t believe that I didn’t realize that you’ve been more than my best friend for the longest time.”
“And I know three weeks probably doesn’t seem like enough time to get over such a long relationship, but the truth is I’ve been finished with that relationship for a long time, and I think so has Jessica. We just stayed together out of habit. And don’t get me wrong, there’s still some things I need to do, like have a long and honest conversation with her, but I really want you back in my life. I completely understand though if you’re not ready. That’s totally valid of course…”
You would have continued to ramble if Lia hadn’t stopped you by gently pressing a finger to your lips, her eyes shining with love and warmth.
“I think we’re ready for that too. Not start a relationship right away, I need more time before that and I think you do too, but just things like this. Spend time together, hang out, slowly figure out together how our new normal is going to look like. Does that sound okay?”
“That sounds absolutely perfect,” you responded.
Not too long ago you had lain in a hotel bed in Switzerland scared because things between you and Lia would never be the same again, now you were filled to the brim with happiness and hope because things would never be the same again. Just the thought of how your relationship with Lia was going to look like made you feel excited. It was everything you’d never dared to dream of.
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felassan · 5 months ago
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John Epler in the BioWare Discord (August 7th, again) -
User: "Since the dialogue wheel is coming back, will our choices set our Rook as diplomatic/humorous/aggressive with varying tone and voice lines similar to Hawke being able to be blue/purple/red?" John: "Not to the same degree - we want to give you the freedom to play your Rook differently depending on who they're talking to (you might be kinder to your companions and brusque with authority figures, for example), but your tone choices will have an impact within a conversation and, sometimes, with specific characters across multiple conversations." --- User: "I have to ask: how muscular can we make the elves?" John: "Reasonably so. You won't be making any massive bodybuilders but like... Timothy Olyphant?" User: "As a follow up what about humans and qunari? Quite muscular a la arnold or big viking type? Or not so much that lvl?" John: "Larger lineages (Qunari, esp) are bigger by default so the upper bounds are going to be bigger, but for modeling and animation we did want to put some limits on it. But your Rook can look pretty reasonably muscled, regardless of lineage choice." --- User: "Are there any time-sensitive quests (in terms of gameplay time, that will fail automatically if not addressed in a timely manner), and if there are please tell me they're at least indicated as such in some way?" John: "There are quests that can go away and technically 'fail' if you don't address them - but, to be VERY clear, this is not an in-game timer, but rather as you progress the game's story forward. That said, we do try to sign post them as much as possible." --- User: "Does Rook ever get the choice to cuss?" John: "Yes. You'll know when you're doing it, and we leave it up to you to make the choice, but sometimes, cursing is exactly what the situation demands."
[character limit text break!]
User: "Does the bioware team read the other channels and if so do they think we're unhinged or endearing?" John: "Little of column A, little of column B. But I mean, I've been online for 27 years, the internet has ruined me as much as anyone." --- User: "all the Rooks we've seen so far are wearing purple, please tell me we dont have to wear purple" John: "Everyone else can wear whatever colour they want but you, specifically, must always wear purple." --- User: "All the games have had unique faction symbols for our protagonist (Warden, Champion of Kirkwall, Inquisition) I assume there will be one for the Veilguard Will the symbol for it get released before the game or is this something that will be revealed in-game/after it’s launched?" John: "Every faction has their own symbol - including the Veilguard themselves! You may have noticed it in some of the art out there." --- John: "As a general comment - one thing I want to be super clear on - even as creative director there are things I can say, and things we're not ready to talk about. I'd rather spend my time answering what I can instead of a dozen 'sorry I can't talk about that yet' - especially since this channel is on slow mode." --- User: "There are blood effects in combat after Rook hits an enemy. And I think a developer shared images of the blood effects on hit after the reveal. Will characters be covered in blood or other environmental effects? Like getting wet from walking in puddles or muddy from running on dirt?" John: "There are environmental effects that persist on characters, depending on the environment you're traversing. They're subtle, but they're there!" --- User: "how many tattoos can we choose from? are there also full bodied ones too?" John: "I don't know the exact number, but there are quite a few. Some are full body as well, though you have control over colours and opacity on a more granular basis."
[character limit text break!]
User: "Of the zones/areas revealed what was the most challenging to design?" John: "Each has its own unique challenges. Arlathan seems simple because - well, it's a forest, right? But what about Arlathan makes it different than places you've been before? How does it fit into the established lore? Minrathous is a different kettle of fish because we've talked about it extensively and in a way that meant it HAD to be grander and more impressive than anything we've built before, which can be a tall order. The team did a fantastic job on all the areas, though." --- User: "which faction has the best fashion, in your opinion?" John: "Crows. Largely because 'black leather and feathers' isn't a look I could pull off in the real world but I am glad my Rook can." --- John: "Alright folks. I've gotta head back to work, but please keep asking questions and I'll answer what I can as soon as I can!"
[source: the official BioWare Discord]
There was also this question and answer:
User: "Can we name our saves like in Origins?" John: "I had to double check because I was about 95% sure on the answer, but also, I've been on this project for its entirety and sometimes I remember features that we had to cut (or never actually built) - yes. You can name your saves to reduce confusion."
but the answer may have now been deleted.
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adrinktostopyourthirst · 5 months ago
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Bucky Barnes | Series | Bare
Part three of the Rebellion Series
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Plot: The attack you suffered wasn't at all what either of you expected. Sharing a bed with Bucky is the least of your problems.
Warning: 18+. Angst, violence (!alluding to non-con!) and smut.
Words: 3,70O
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It’s frustrating – to be so tired and not to be able to fall asleep. You’re forced to watch the orange lights travel over the ceiling with every vehicle that passes. Forced to feel the presence of Bucky behind you. And forced to be unable to look at him, read his mind, or even know if sleep has found him at least. You’d guess hours have passed, but the sun would be up. When Bucky was treating the wound on your thigh – only an enjoyable, throbbing ache left of the pain – it had been 3am.
Summer is making you feel sticky. It’s making the noises from outside overly loud and the albeit passable hotel feel stuffy. You’ve already kicked off the sheets and moved your hair as much from your skin as possible.
Then, you realise the gift of getting to complain about such luxurious things. There was a time not too long ago where you were locked up and never imagined getting to feel a change in temperature, or watch vehicles pass by that other people drove. People with lives, with purpose. There was time where you were so preoccupied with getting to the next day, making sure your people made it to the next day, making a bigger statement than the last – there was no time to be nervous about a super soldier sleeping in the bed with you.
Because you are – nervous. It’s ridiculous, to feel like a teenage girl next to a handsome man. A handsome man who doesn’t seem ruffled by you at all. There is… flirtation. And it’s surprisingly easy with him. The last time you had flirtation like that with anyone, you hardly remember. Besides, it’s terribly fun to rile him up all the time, and to know that at any time he will come back with something just as sharp.
You dare a glance in his direction, almost certain he’s asleep, and then you pause. He does seem asleep, but deeply uncomfortable. Light from outside reflects on the sheen of sweat on his face and chest, there seem to be tremors going through his body.
Lifting a hand to his shoulder carefully, you hope not to startle him. He groans lowly at the touch, relief on his face at what you assume is the coolness of your skin. Because he’s burning.
“Bucky,” you whisper, a slight plea in your tone as you sit up a little.
He moans your name softly as he writhes and find out he’s awake after all.
“Hey,” you coo softly, peeling the sheets off of him to get him some reprieve. “What’s going on? Did you get hit?”
He seems slightly dazed and finally he crawls to sit up against the headboard. His chest is heaving with shallow breaths and it takes him a while to drag his eyes to yours. You haven’t seen him so… pliant before. It’s so unlike him.
Clearly, it takes him too much effort to think of tonight’s events and come up with an answer to your question, so you drag your eyes over every inch of his body to see if there are any wounds you might have missed.
But nothing.
Bucky seems to have caught on to your quest and shakes his head, running a metal hand through his sweaty hair. “No, nothing got me.”
“But you’re burning up,” you counter and climb off the bed, flicking on a light. His face pinches together at the overstimulation and a shudder rolls through his body. “Are you in pain?”
He thinks for a second and that is answer enough for you. Bucky is the type of man to say ‘no’ first and then check if he actually has pain, only to proceed to ignore it until it dissipates. You grab your phone to start searching for something, anything, that might help you figure this out. If it manages to affect Bucky this much, it can’t be good.
However, you get sidetracked by the dozen missed calls and an urgent text from Sam to call him back as soon as possible. You frown, feeling Bucky’s curious eyes on you, and call Sam.
“Sam,” you start, pressing the screen to put the phone on speaker, “you said to call you back. What’s wrong?”
“We wanted to know if you saw anything suspicious tonight at the party,” he answers.
“Why?” Bucky manages to get out.
“There have been more casualties,” he says and you lock eyes with Bucky, his turning empathetic at the realisation. “There is a number of people who have started acting strangely, almost manic. Most of them have passed away mere hours later. At first, we couldn’t figure out what it was, but along their expected injuries from the bombing, they each had a tiny pinprick on their bodies.”
“A pinprick?” you ask, brows furrowed. That would insinuate an injection, which is an odd thing to incur. Unless there was a bigger scheme at play at the gala tonight.
Bucky speaks up now, all of a sudden sounding more alert, “Did you find out what people got injected with?” His mind must go the same place yours has and you run your assessing gaze over his heated skin again. Dread settles in your stomach. Any trace of a pin prick would have vanished on a fast-healing body…
“We have the last subjects under investigation now and Natasha is trying to hack into systems to find something. You have to get back here as soon as possible.” Sam sounds worried.
“Sam,” you start and Bucky’s eyes go to you in question, turning icy when he hears your next words, “Bucky has a fever.”
The ride back to the nearest bunker is painfully long. Bucky’s skin is throbbing and he’s certain he can feel every pump of blood pressing through his veins. Dull thumps echo through his ears with every fast pound of his heart, the organ seemingly working overtime. He’s sweating, but so cold. It feels like there’s ice running over his skin and lava in his core. Trying to keep himself upright has been a challenge. He wants to sink, and sink, and sink until his head is on your chest and you will stroke his hair.
Your voice is sharp as it penetrates Bucky’s heavy daze, announcing that you have finally arrived at the bunker assigned for you. Going to the compound would take too long, Sam insisted, so you dragged Bucky to the car and drove off to your assigned location. You hoist him out of the car, trying to hold his weight and muttering some words of comfort. Bucky tries his best to walk, dragging his feet over the ground, the gravel loud in the silence of your current spot. You must be really isolated.
The bunker is fairly modern and well-stocked. After another injection you found in one of the medical cabinets and a comfortable bed to lie in, things had started to clear up for Bucky.
Finally awake and seemingly level-headed, Bucky turns his heavy head to you, lounging on the chair beside him, just as a massive yawn rips over your face. He opens his mouth to speak, but halts when you sit up with your eyes on your phone. He follows your gaze and watches you unlock your phone to a FaceTime call with Natasha, Sam and a doctor whose name Bucky has forgotten.
They look tormented.
“I’ll cut to the chase,” Natasha explains and bites her lip. Bucky braces himself. “I managed to break into the file system of the government branch that is responsible for the attack. There were a few objectives to their mission at the gala: to scare, to warn and to research.” All of a sudden you’re holding a set of files and Bucky assumes it is a copy of whatever Natasha has found and faxed over to the middle of nowhere. “Apparently, they have been sitting on a serum that they want to use in the future. There was pressure on getting it developed faster, but they couldn’t get it tested ethically. They came up with a plan to test the effects of the serum during an attack where they would scare any resistance to their movement, hoping they could study the effects – no matter how severe they would be – and everyone else would assume that complications must be from the attack, and no one would ever look their way.”
Bucky looks at you as your eyes scan the files and the look on your face is anything but reassuring. You look at Natasha like he isn’t even there and Bucky’s composure is failing him.
“I’m feeling better,” he tries.
Natasha sighs and you turn to him in the chair, leaving the phone on a stand. You flip through the files and start reading a certain paragraph, “All subjects run a fever high enough to kill them. Only 15 percent of the subjects survive against all odds, confirming that the serum does awaken a primal survival instinct. Group one, the subjects that were isolated from others, show extreme discomfort and start pleasuring themselves to get rid of it. Group two, the subjects that were put together, either killed each other or started having intercourse to relieve the pain and discomfort. None of them hesitated in following their carnal desires. Group three, subjects exposed to non-subjects, went to highly unethical lengths to stop their discomfort, similar to group two…” Your voice drifts off to a soft murmur and you are set on not making eye-contact with Bucky, much to his dismay.
“What else?” he grits out.
“It continues to say that the serum’s goal is to reduce people to their carnal desires and primal instincts in the hopes of making them more pliant and susceptible to directions,” you explain slowly and Bucky can tell it pains you to read it out. “The problem seems to be that the subjects don’t become pliant – they become unhinged… Eventually forcing scientists to eliminate the remaining subjects.” You pause and frown. Then share a worried look with Natasha, who nods. “Their next step would be to find out how the serum would affect ‘super humans’.” The room falls silent and you look up at him. Bucky has gone hard as stone, not an emotion left in him. “You were targeted.”
He hasn’t said anything in hours and you keep scanning your eyes over him. Up and down, up and down – hoping to find any clue as to how he’s doing. The call ended with the clear instructions to leave Bucky in the room alone and lock yourself away. You stuck around, reading through the entire report over and over, in case you might find something to help him. He’s been pacing since the call ended.
Normally, you’d choose the approach of giving Bucky time and space until he feels ready to talk about how he’s feeling or what his observations are. However, patience and time for that matter, are not on your side today. Dr. Wen made it perfectly clear that there is a window of time before chaos breaks loose and you need to calculate just how bad the repercussions will be of Bucky’s exposure.
You know Bucky enough – know how much he has been through – which makes it that much more difficult to estimate how well he will be able to fight the substance. He can fight a lot, manage through manipulations that most people would easily fall for or succumb to. But this, possibly made for super soldiers like him, this is different. This substance promises to fight each of his bodily functions that keep that primal instinct at bay – to keep him contained. Part of you wonders how much his primal self is attached to the Winter Soldier. Because if Hydra’s Asset comes out, you are officially done for.
You can’t really leave – won’t leave. Not with a new trickle of sweat rolling down Bucky’s temple, his fists clenching and his teeth grinding together in discomfort. No, you won’t leave him alone. You’re not sure how the substance will affect him, but you’ll stick with him. People have abandoned him too many times and this is too similar to what he’s already been through to leave him fending for himself. Besides, you know what it’s like to be left alone when you need people the most.
“Bucky?” you rasp and his eyes settle on yours.
Your breath hitches in your throat at that look in his eyes, the deep shadow his brow casts over his eyes and the taut look of his bone structure. Bucky visibly swallows and takes a breath of restraint. You think maybe your call didn’t register in his brain at the conflicted look on his face, but his mouth opens before you can try again.
“Run.”
Blood running cold and spine going rigid, you gape at the man before you.
“What.” It comes out as a whisper.
Bucky grits his teeth and you don’t know how you missed the obvious signals of his body that showcase a supernatural amount of restraint. This man is fighting demons you cannot even imagine. You take a step forward to console him, but his hand grabs the nearest aluminium table and his fingers curl so tightly that the material bends. You freeze.
“I need you to run,” he chokes.
You shake your head. “Bucky, the report said it heightens instinct and primal need. Your instinct isn’t to kill me. I don’t think you’ll hurt me.”
Bucky’s nostrils flare and his head drops. He heaves a deep sigh, as if tired to have to explain it to you. He gathers something, maybe courage, to tell you, but decides against it in the end. “I said: run.”
A ripple of agony goes through him, visible by the tight clench of his bare abdomen. His muscles are tense, his pupils blown to dark pits and his veins are protruding from his skin. You don’t know where the arrogance comes from to stick around when the Winter Soldier might be the one standing in front of you in a few seconds, but somehow abandoning Bucky seems worse than death.
You glance at the opened med kit, wondering if another injection might keep the serum at bay. You’re not sure how it works, but it seemed to clear Bucky up before… He buckles over again with a primal growl, body rippling with pain and discomfort.
“What do you need, Bucky?” you try.
“Run,” he snaps. “I need you to fucking run. I can’t hold this off much longer. It’s been hours.”
The report had said most subjects only hold out four hours at the most. Bucky is going into hour eight right about now. You hesitate then, feet shuffling without moving away from him. You give him a pained look and you feel like you’re getting one in return, but before the agony reaches Bucky’s face, he buckles over completely and crashes to the floor, his hands curling against the ground.
On instinct, you dive down and put your hand on his back. “Bucky! Are you–”
A sinful moan rips from his throat and within an instant his metal hand grabs the hand that is resting on his back, and rips it off of him. “Don’t– touch me.”
You pause, trying not to cringe at the tight grip he has on your hand. The next thing you do is to pry your hand away from him and follow his request, but his hand is holding onto yours too tightly. You open your mouth to say something, but his flesh hand starts tracing over de lines and curves of your hand, over your wrist and up your arm.
That’s when you realise the contents of the rest of the report, not even having considered the alternative to Bucky wanting to kill you. Your body heats at the thought and you start trembling. Your eyes trickle over every feature of his – his bare, heaving chest and his bulging arms and thick thighs and his mouth… Oh, his mouth.
You do something stupid – perhaps because the thing that is currently on your mind might be the best thing to do right before you die anyway – and you raise your other hand, sliding it over his shoulder and up into his neck. Bucky shudders and you curl your nails to scrape over his skin, making him hiss and let out a low moan from the back of his throat.
“Do you want to kill me?” you ask and Bucky’s head lifts slowly, eyes wide and two lines between his brow in utter confusion. You can’t imagine the physical pain he must be in right now, if the reports are anything to go by.
“No,” he breathes, like you’re insane for even asking.
“Do you want to fuck me?”
Bucky swallows hard at that question, jaw working, like the question is enough to make him combust. But he shakes his head and you have a hard time admitting what that does to your self esteem.
“The reports–” he grunts and heaves in a deep breath, his current train of thought seemingly creating an exponentially growing amount of pain. “The reports are wrong. They ruined each other and only wanted to fuck. Get their dicks wet, gets their holes filled.”
Heat rushes up your neck and cheeks at his words and you stroke your hand up and down his neck, perhaps to soothe yourself. In the reports, the subjects had been vividly described as out-of-control animals, as rough and violent and selfish. Does the serum have a different effect on Bucky because he’s more resistant to the drug? He does seem to want to be touched. And if he keeps moaning like that – moans of pleasure, not pain – you’re afraid you’ll do anything to touch him. So much so, you wonder if the serum causes a contagious reaction.
“How are the reports wrong?” you try carefully.
“I don’t just want to fuck you,” he groans and his eyes soften, though they never lose their hard edge. Their determination. “I’m selfish.” He pauses, like he expects you to know what it is he wants. You look at him with pleading eyes – for information or temptation – he’s not sure.
You nod, unsurely, but determined as well. “That’s okay. You can be selfish. I can take it.”
He drawls your name in warning, eyes darkening. Clearly you have no idea what he wants from you and the willingness in your tone sends another miserable ache through his limbs, sending his body to curl up again and his eyes to scrunch shut, which you quickly soothe by shuffling closer to him and stroking your palm down his spine. Bucky’s tactical pants are becoming unbearably tight and it takes everything for him to not look at your lips. He knows if he catches one glimpse of your mouth, he’s gone.
“I trust you,” you whisper, breath fanning over his cheek.
His eyes snap back to yours, searching frantically, but he seems to find only truth on your face. Yet his eyes search and search, for any sign that you don’t want this – don’t want him – and he makes the detrimental mistake to let his gaze fall to your mouth. Your lips.
Something inside of him rips free and it’s so scaringly close to a furious Winter Soldier, that Bucky almost hesitates. But his eyes are on your lips and the trained soldier in him has a mission – centred solely around those fucking lips of yours. So he dives forward and crashes his mouth to yours, bringing both of you to the ground.
His hand covers the back of your head and his knees split your thighs apart, instantly grinding his hips between them. When your back arches up against him at the contact, his arm slides under your back to press you up against him, keeping your core attached to his unbearably hard cock, still straining against his clothes.
You sigh against his lips and glide your arms around his neck, pushing closer to him. Bucky’s hands slide down to your ass and he effortlessly lifts you with him, sitting in your vacated chair and keeping you in his lap. The kiss is so desperate and intimate and longing. Your hands in his hair, his hands stroking up and down your back – down and down. You, grinding down onto him and him hissing against your mouth.
One of his hands locks into your hair, tugging your head down to him for better access as your tongues connect and both of you moan at the same time, locking something in that neither of you can ever come back from.
And Bucky is almost convinced you have the serum running through your veins as well – it’s impossible for someone to feel that good. He has to stop kissing you to stop from going insane, and his mouth drags down your jaw and neck, unable to keep himself from sinking his teeth into the skin below your ear. He feels your heartbeat between your legs and forces your hips to grind down on him again.
“Be selfish,” you gasp. “Please be selfish.”
He knows for a fact that you have no idea what you’re asking for. He knows you think he’ll flip you over and take you until he’s spent. But no. He wants to play with you and not give you what you’re begging for. He wants you on his hands, his thigh, his tongue and his cock. He wants you past the serum – past the upcoming few hours.
You see, the second Bucky figured out what this serum was going to do to him, he knew the last person he should be around, is you. Had known there was somehow only one person that would crumble his resolve quicker than anything or anyone else. And now that you want him…
This is the first time in over a hundred years that Bucky and the Winter Soldier are in perfect harmony together. The first time he hears the Soldat tell him from deep in the back of his head,
“Ready to comply.”
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