#the all human modern au we needed

[macaulaytwins]

they would’ve run the PTA like the navy

[skitskatdacat63]

These sketches are dedicated to everyone in the tags of my original post agreeing with my vision 🙏 but especially to @tinyweltmeister for the little snippet you wrote!!

+ silly sketches

[flovverworks]

after a billion yrs i added a lil line about my gbf verse.....<3 one day i might flesh it out to something in-universe, but since gbf is so "oh ure from another world? ya that happens..." i....am gonna keep w that..........(also cuz i do think discussing the different ways of magic, moon-enemy & this n that is more fun like this

[see-arcane]

Our good friend Jonathan Harker is getting ready to leave for his business trip, Mina Murray is picking out a new journal, Lucy Westenra is charming a gaggle of smitten suitors, Abraham van Helsing is wrapping up his lectures, and Castle Dracula is prepping the guest room for a very long stay.

Which must mean that Dracula Season is here again!

 ‘Dracula Season’ being a catchall term for the voracious reading, memeing, writing, illustrating, analyzing, and general fun-having that’s ensued since Matt Kirkland’s project, Dracula Daily, caught on with us back in 2022. The Substack had already been running before then, but it sparked a conflagration as time went on and readers old and new to Bram Stoker’s Dracula—the actual novel, not Coppola’s fanfiction—devoured it in a way that scratched an itch none of us knew we had. Stoker wrote the book in epistolary fashion, clumping sections together as needed for the pacing without perfect adherence to chronological order. Matt went ahead and put all the events in order and proceeded to set up a lovely chain of emails that delivered entries on those correlating dates.

This style of organization and pacing turned out to not only make the virtual book club that much easier to engage with, but left space in-between to stew on the story and relate with the characters themselves. Every day of waiting in the book feels weightier when you have to pace and sweat and worry in tandem with poor Jonathan trapped in the castle or Lucy wasting away or Mina running out the clock before she loses the fight for her own humanity. And while we sat with the story or the lulls between Dracula Seasons, some of us found ourselves craving more of that ghastly gothic horror goodness to the point that we figured:

“Well. Why don’t I make something?”

And then we did! Tons of creative works have been churned out in the wake of Dracula Daily’s high. I figured that while we’ve still got a bit of time to wait for May 3rd, we should check out all this new stuff in the meantime. (Plus a handful of neat stuff that just clicks with the Dracula itch overall.)

So, in the interest of Dracula Season pregaming, let’s take a look at…

FICTION

Blood of My Blood – A recent addition to the Dracula Bad Ending AU pile, and definitely one of the most harrowing and addictive group-produced narratives I’ve ever come across, Blood of My Blood is the dramatically gothic currently-WIP work of @ibrithir-was-here and @animate-mush’s devious design. Give or take a heap of other fascinated folks (hello!) adding ideas to put more Horror into the Horrors that our cast has to face. The premise:

The Transylvanian climax went fatally sour and the Harkers were forced to shelter with Dracula himself, including their half-vampire son, Quincey. Cut to two decades later, and Quincey finds himself out in modern London, smitten with Lu, adopted daughter of Arthur and Jack, and diving into certain bloodstained old documents that detail the real history of how his parents came to live in the castle. Said revelations coming not a moment too soon, as a storm is coming for him straight from the Carpathians…

Dracula Daily Sketch Collection – An array of illustrations that captures every entry beat by beat, the Dracula Daily Sketch Collection by Georgia Cook, alias @georgiacooked was dished out over the course of the last Dracula Season. Some of the most fun character designs out there.

Fanfiction Spotlight: BlueCatWriter – With a whopping 99 works devoted to the novel Dracula (so far, the number may have gone up since I blinked), @bluecatwriter is one of the most prolific and talented fanfiction scribblers out there. Romances, nightmares, and overlaps between the two seem to crop up the most, give or take a crossover. Seems fitting that those blue paw prints have contributed to BoMB too.

The League of Extraordinary Gentlefolk – An ongoing comic in which all your favorite characters from the Classics section get together and tackle some perils ranging from the mundane to the monstrous. Started by the amazing @mayhemchicken and posted on @lxgentlefolkcomic, this series is a love letter to beloved Victorian era lit, with a spotlight on the two couples leading the League. Namely, the Harkers, ala Dracula, and the Nortons, ala Sherlock Holmes,’ “A Scandal in Bohemia.” Mina and Irene are the driving investigative and steering forces here, and still deeply in love with their likewise-infatuated husbands, just like in their canons! What a concept! Alan.

Without spoiling the full character list, just know there are going to be a ton of familiar faces roaming around before you finish reading the first arc. Said arc having conveniently wrapped up just a few days ago! Give the comic and its bonus silliness a look if you’re in the mood for a new comfort-adventure epic.

Re: Dracula – Probably the most well-known and incredible thing to come out of the initial Dracula Daily wave. This podcast is a full audio drama that follows the same format as the Substack, with episodes coming out in time with the entries themselves. And it has an unfairly cool soundtrack. They have a Tumblr with @re-dracula, a site and a Patreon to check out before the series kicks up again on May 3rd. (Also, keep an eye out for their next work, an audio drama in the same style with Carmilla.)

The Soldier and the Solicitor – Another treat from @ibrithir-was-here, this one involves a bit of time travel trouble. Quincey Harker has stumbled out of World War I and into the same dark forest where his father once fled for his life…then runs into the man himself, on that same night. Jonathan Harker, young and starved and lost, who has no choice but to trust this stranger while the Weird Sisters are at his heels…despite said stranger having no shadow. It’s a tasty emotional trek, already complete on Tumblr, but now it’s turning into a Webtoon. While Ibrithir is juggling a number of other stories, she’ll be redrawing spruced up versions of the comic and adding a few new scenes as things unfold.

Substack Stack – You know what’s better than one emailed-out public domain book club? A mountain of them. Just. So, so many of them. You’ll see that a lot of these are finished, but some are still ticking along. Either way, they’re all great picks if you’re craving some more old school lit to fill the void between undead emails.

Frankenstein Weekly – Frankenstein

Jekyll and Hyde Weekly – The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Voyage of the Nautilus – Twenty-Thousand Leagues Under the Sea

Letters from Watson – Sherlock Holmes

The Invisible Mail – The Invisible Man

Letters from Bunny – E.W. Hornung’s short stories of the eponymous Bunny and Raffles

Letters Regarding Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse’s Bertie Wooster short stories, including the novel, Right Ho, Jeeves

…

……

………

…The Beetle Weekly – The Beetle (NOTE: Do Not Read This.)

The Vampyres – A novella I finally wrenched through the gears of self-publication as of March this year. Starring a petite but powerful paranormal cast, The Vampyres, centers on an unscrupulous undead fellow who finds that the revenants of the world are being mowed down by an entity known only as ‘Quinn Morse.’ Between trying to save his neck and figure out where the shadowy bastard came from, the Vampyre in question crosses paths with a new paramour and handy human shield in the form of a grieving Good Samaritan. He’s even polite enough to invite the Vampyre into his home while he’s in dire straits! Surely this will end well. All the info is available here and a little author site is over here.

What Manner of Man – This is the one made for everyone who started out hoping there’d be a real love story with our good friend Jonathan Harker and the Count when he was at his most charismatic. Where that sea of wonders dried up into a mire of horror, What Manner of Man by @stjohnstarling keeps things firmly on the romantic tracks. This Substack stars the letter-writing priest Father Victor E. Ardelian as he finds himself meeting with one enigmatic Lord Alistair Vane. It isn’t long before interest turns into intrigue and intrigue into undead intimacies.

The entire novel has been completed—along with multiple epilogues in the author’s Patreon, allowing readers to choose for themselves just how the uncanny romance plays out in the end—and the Substack now has a number of other gothic goodies piling up in the meantime.  

NONFICTION

Dracula Daily: A Unique Reading Experience: This one comes courtesy of @realwomenofgaming. It’s a short and sweet piece that amounts to a fun snapshot of the entire Dracula Daily ride. A cozy couple-minute read.

‘Dracula Daily’ is the One Substack You Need a Subscription To: Features my favorite Matt Kirkland interview. @mattkirkland, if you’re still floating around on here, thank you for dispatching our vampire newsletter again this year.

Dracula Daily is Tumblr’s hottest new book club: Alright, the ‘new’ part is worn out by now, but this one is still a delightful article to swing back around to. Two years on, this Polygon piece is a time capsule of those early months when people outside our bookworm bubble realized we were all happily receiving letters from our favorite classic gothic horror blorbos.  

“How Mina Murray Became Dracula’s Girlfriend” – Princess Weekes, if you ever read this, thank you, thank you, thank you. I am sending oceans of love and millions of rewatches to your video essay. If you haven’t seen it yet, “How Mina Murray Became Dracula’s Girlfriend” is one of the most refreshing and well-made breakdowns of both the title subject and numerous other issues that have proliferated in the public view of Dracula’s cast and plot as adaptations endlessly warp or outright bastardize the actual novel. An incredibly cathartic watch.  

Literary play gone viral: delight, intertextuality, and challenges to normative interpretations through the digital serialization of Dracula: A mouthful of a title for an even more elaborate article about the Dracula Daily phenomenon. This one is a full-on study that analyzes just what happened within the big bloodsucker book club surge and how its ‘wandering reading practices’ enriched the experience for participants.

 “The Undying Undead: An analysis of the Dracula Daily community for a theory of online community formation and interaction” – We have a thesis on here! Look at that! @sirangelothebestest’s MA thesis used our vampiric book club as the bones for a massive brick of an academic piece that definitely deserves a look.

…And I think I’ll go ahead and cap things here.

This isn’t everything I got recommended, but if I had squashed all of it in here, I think folks’ eyes would start to fall out of their head. I hope you can find something cool to comb through here. Or, if there’s something great I overlooked, tack it onto the list! We’ve got just two weeks to go until we’re off with Mr. Harker. Let’s enjoy our respite before those castle doors close behind us.

[samaraxmorgan]

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time I Gave Him Covid”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: pure fluff, Sukuna makes you watch The Human Centipede but nothing is described in detail, pining at the end but he’s in denial

Word Count: 1.08k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Look, a day off is nice, and a few days off could be a real treat, under just about any other circumstances. You’re sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee that you didn’t even need to add sugar to because the bitter taste can’t affect you when you literally can’t taste it.

You noticed the symptoms a couple hours ago, scratchy throat, can’t taste, can’t smell; you had an extra Covid test under the kitchen sink since you bought a two pack a couple months ago, and unsurprisingly you tested positive. And now you’re stuck in your little apartment for a week, trapped in the confined space with your oversized roommate who’s going to be just thrilled to hear the news.

He’s literally gonna kill me.

As if on cue, you could hear Sukuna’s footsteps thumping down the stairs, his eyes meeting yours as he turned the corner and a look of confusion spreading across his face.

“Don’t you have a job?”

You snort, oh he’s not gonna like this, “I’ve got bad news bud.”

“Don’t ever call me that again.” He shoots you a glare as walks into the kitchen, pulling a glass out of the cabinet.

You roll your eyes, a sheepish grin creeping at the corners of your lips as you prop your cheek onto the palm of your hand, “We have Covid.”

“Who’s we?” He doesn’t even look at you, his back facing you as he pulls a carton of milk out from the fridge and fills the glass.

Even though he can’t see it, you give him a quizzical look, “We literally live together? My germs are all over the place.”

He turns around, leaning his back against the kitchen counter and looking down at you in your seat with a nonchalant expression, “I’ve got a good immune system,” He brings the glass up to his lips and takes a sip, “I’m fine.”

You know he’s full of shit, cocky bastard can’t genuinely think he’s above getting sick, right? You look up at him dumbfounded as he casually sips his glass of milk, he’s got a completely blank expression.

When’s the last time we even bought milk? That has to have been sitting for a while now. Oh, oh wait…

Hah, yeah he’s so full of shit. He cocks a brow at the smirk you didn’t realize had grown across your face.

“What’s so funny, brat?”

“How’s the milk taste?”

He shrugs, clicking his tongue in his mouth, “Fine.”

“When did it expire?”

“It didn’t,” He raises the glass to his nose and smells it with no changes in his expression, he picks the carton up and turns his wrist to read the back of it, “It’s good ‘til-”

He stops himself short, his mouth dropping into a small surprised oh, you can’t even attempt to suppress the giggle that escapes you.

You let your arms slide down outstretched across the kitchen table, your cheek pressed against the smooth wood, “I guess we’re quarantine buddies.”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you.”

I figured as much.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Your face is buried in your hands, shielding your poor, absolutely tortured eyes from the TV. Eerie music with muffled screams and maniacal laughter emit from the speakers and fill the room as Sukuna outstretches his leg to reach your side of the couch, prodding at your arm with his foot.

“You’re not even watching.”

“This is horrible.”

“This is payback.”

You peek through your fingers, immediately wanting to gag at his disgusting movie choice. The Human Centipede, really? He’s watching it so casually, somehow managing to have the stomach to eat popcorn as well, albeit most of the popcorn has been tossed into your hair from when he caught you squeezing your eyes shut during the teeth pulling scene. Now that was brutal.

“Can we please watch something else? Anything?” You whine into your hands.

“I’ve got the DVD for Cannibal Holocaust.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, flopping your head backward onto the couch cushion.

It’s gonna be a long week.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“Woman, how in god's name do I move?”

“You click where you want to go, and,” You lean forward and tap your finger onto your laptop's screen, “Click here.”

“That’s so fucking stupid.” He grumbles under his breath.

You roll your eyes but to be honest, you’re impressed he was actually willing to play one of your games. It seems the last few days of being stuck together have broken him down a bit, and now you’re leaning against his arm watching him attempt to maneuver around The Sims on your laptop.

Sukuna lets out a frustrated groan, “This game sucks, you can’t even kill people.”

You draw back in surprise, “Have you never played Sims before?”

He turns his head towards you, looking completely baffled that you’d even ask, “No? Obviously.”

Oh he’s in for a treat.

Within an hour he’s drowned 4 people, burned down someone’s mansion, got a call to come meet a child that he didn’t even know was his, and let out an absolutely delighted “Oh? What’s this?” when he found the tools to make prison bars. You can’t say you’re surprised by any means, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t amused.

You’re watching his eyes flicker around the screen, brows furrowed in concentration and his sharp canine digging into the side of his bottom lip as he oh so meticulously picks out the least comfortable looking beds for each little prison cell. You’ve been slowly slouching against his side more and more over the last hour, and he either hasn’t noticed or is too invested in his mass murder scenarios to even care as sickly fatigue has your head resting on his shoulder and your eyelids feeling too heavy to keep open.

Little do you know, he’s well aware of your weight pressing into him; but, he’s willing to let it slide this time, deciding that you’ve pleased him enough for him to hold back from pushing your sleepy body onto the ground. Even though it would be hilarious to see the look on your face when you wake up to your back flopping onto the plush rug beneath you, and even funnier to watch you try to slap at him as he holds both of your wrists in one hand, he’s willing to spare you just this once, although he couldn’t possibly fathom the reason why.

It’s not because he’s growing a soft spot for you, no, because that would be ridiculous.

A/N: I wasn’t planning to start with this one BUT I couldn’t stop thinking about this scenario so I guess we get him sick immediately asakjjaan Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to a taglist!!

[moki-dokie]

been seeing some stuff on blue eye samurai and big yikes to nearly everyone pushing extremely western ideals onto these characters.

this is early edo period. 1600s. the japan you know now did not exist yet.

yall. please. there was NO concept of sexuality in pre-modern japan. that came with both the influx of christianity and western influence very very late in history. like, mid-1800s. (yes, there was christianity pre-1800s but it was not a widespread idea yet and wouldn't be until about the 1800s since, y'know, missionaries were routinely murdered before then)

"so and so is either bi and hasn't figured it out yet or..." no. that isn't how it worked then. nobody gave a shit what was between your legs. anyone could be attracted to anyone else. it was a little more common for male homosexual relationships to be between an adult and younger male - like many other places around the world - but two adult men could bang and love each other just as easily. relationships between women were quite common - especially since so many men were often away at war. there's tons of pornographic prints from the time depicting all manner of fun queer relationships. sex itself had absolutely no moral assignment to it. good sex was good health. it didn't matter who with. (well, social class/caste mattered more than anything else tbh but that didn't stop upper and lower class from fucking.) that isn't to say people didn't have preferences. of course they did. that is human nature. preferences arose more from physical appearance, caste, and circumstances with gender being about the last thing one would look for in a partner - romantic, casual, or otherwise. the only role in sex where gender actually mattered was for procreation.

there would be no queer awakening moment, no sudden switch flipped, no stigma to have internal conflicts about because it simply did not exist as a concept whatsoever. you were either attracted to a person or you weren't, it was that simple. gender played no role when it came to sex and sexual attraction. the japanese were lightyears ahead of western cultures in this particular area - like most cultures were before christianity came in and ruined everything with its backwards morals and strict good/evil dichotomy.

yall have got to realize queer rep will not and should not always adhere by modern western standards. there was no straight, gay, bi, or anything else of the sort. the closest they ever got was referring to roles during sex - as in who is giving and who is receiving.

i know this is mostly a made up story but it is still set within a very specific time period and culture, which should be honored and respected by not making it fit into our box. tons of research went into making this show historically accurate (albeit with some discrepancies but tbh they aren't really that huge) right down to the calligraphy writing. please please please don't whitewash the culture from these characters.

i say this mainly because without this knowledge, so many of you are going to build these characters up on a foundation they aren't meant to be on and then you'll rage about queerbaiting and bad queer rep if it isn't somehow super explicitly stated, if it doesn't match your very modern, very western ideal of what queer looks like. don't try to force this plot and narrative and characters into something they canonically and historically aren't. headcanons are a thing, AUs are a thing, fanfiction is a thing - leave your western thinking for those and let these characters simply exist as they should otherwise. this is one of those times where the queerness really does not need to be examined at all beyond what we get.

i know it can be hard to wrap your head around - sexuality is such a huge part of our identity in the western world and has slowly started to spread amongst other parts of the world in importance. but just keep in mind with these particular characters, that concept would be so very alien to them.

[saerins]

°୨୧ INEVICABLY, UNDENIABLY

+ gojo satoru x f!reader | wc 3.3k | content: fluff, modern au, friends to roommates to lovers, timeskip thing; from high school -> adulthood, alcohol, implied sex, children, marriage, gojo is mostly clingy and annoying and we love him for it, the years and age correspond to his actual birthdate, take this as my birthday fic for him <3

summary: despite seemingly having it all, gojo satoru’s goal has always been the same all these years you’ve known him—all he wants in life is you, and only you. during his birthday this year, gojo counts his blessings.

2006; seventeen.

the day you agreed to be satoru’s partner in homeroom class is the day you signed away your sanity. not because satoru’s hard to get along with or that he’s rude or slacks off, but because it’s hard not to fall for a boy with such pretty eyes and even prettier lips who likes to say the most beautiful things.

getting to know satoru is like taking a deep in the clearest, coldest ocean after an entire lifetime of being dipped in molten lava. he’s annoying, refreshing and eye-opening all in one.

satoru shows promise in the first lesson, doing fairly well at cooking and sowing, although afterwards he just falls off because you end up having to teach him how to properly use alcohol in his cooking so he doesn’t burn himself or that you’d end up patching his fingers up since he accidentally pokes himself a lot more than the average human would.

still, it’s not his fault he isn’t naturally talented in the home economics department. he is in sports, you find out, after a few months of being in the same class as him.

“hey, y/n.” he’s leaning back on his chair, depending on its hind two legs for support. it’s become his habit during class to bother you whenever the teachers aren’t in.

you were assigned the seat diagonally behind him, and it’s become a habit for you to ignore him—mostly because most of the time, it’s nonsense that falls out of those lips, especially after you’d gotten close. it’s his sign of affection, you realise.

“hey y/n, i’m being serious this time, i need to talk to you,” satoru whines, pouting and sighing in that over dramatic way that only he can.

that’s also not the first time he’s tricked you into acknowledging him so all you do is look at him, a smile appearing that you failed to suppress, and bring a finger to your lips, signalling for him to hush.

unperturbed, satoru smirks and gets to scribbling on a piece of paper, folding it (annoyingly and quickly) into a swan before handing it to you. he winks at you, and you’re immediately driven not to give him satisfaction by reading it. instead, you bow slightly and stuff it in your pencil case, making satoru pout again and giving yourself the sweet taste of victory.

the rest of your sophomore year in high school, you find yourself growing closer to satoru, an unfamiliar feeling growing inside of you. you find that you like knowing what makes him tick, and even the way he says your name, or even watching him ace every kind of sport and then having him blow a teasing kiss to you after each win.

“y/n, i’m so jealous of you, how’d you manage to get gojo satoru of all people?” one of your classmates whine, swooning endlessly over him.

you only laugh it off, deigning to think too much of it.

it’s weird; he’s most of the schoolgirls’ crushes, but you’ve never considered him to be yours. maybe it’s just a fleeting feeling that will go away with the test of time.

yeah, that should be all that is.

2007; eighteen.

“why not? we’re practically going to the same college.”

with time, you thought that maybe satoru would become a little more sane. like how growing into adults, you slowly shed the ridiculous dreams you had as a child. but he’s not, if not—he’s even more insane.

“we haven’t got the results yet, satoru.”

“i’m pretty sure we’ll get in though.”

“and what’s your basis for that?”

“i’m never wrong about these.”

as always, satoru lives in his own little bubble and you can’t help but to sigh. in his head, both of you will get into that same college you applied for and he has it all planned out: “we get into college, sign up for whatever classes, and then rent an apartment together—genius right?”

that was satoru just moments ago, elbows leaned over the grocery cart as he grins at you, beaming like a dog waiting for their owner’s approval. now he’s still doing the same, except you’ve flicked him on the forehead before turning your attention to the aisles because apparently, he says he hates the food at home and would rather have what you’re cooking.

he’s made it his life mission to invade your meals over the weekend, squeezing himself into your family, bonding with your sibling and your parents and only then did you realise what you forgot in the first place: satoru is one of the most charming people to ever walk the earth. your siblings constantly ask about the next time he’s coming over, and your parents are just waiting for you to announce that he’s your boyfriend—which he’s not, but he sure likes to make it seem that way.

another thing you notice about satoru thanks to your now-weekly grocery runs: he likes to wander around way too much, and complains afterwards when he finds you after losing you.

“y/n!”

it’s like routine by now; the way satoru rushes over to you, putting his arm around your shoulder and sticking his cheek against yours, telling you how he almost died because he thought he lost you—like the drama queen he is. by now, all you can offer him is a ruffle of his hair before you carry on like normal, as though your heart isn’t beating right out of your chest from that simple proximity.

because satoru, despite his generally icy look, is always warm; his body heat, his cheeks, the way he looks into your eyes all the time, even his fingertips when they brush against you.

you think he’s especially warm when he falls asleep beside you after watching a late night movie, his head nuzzled in your neck, hands somehow rested over your own. your favourite thing about the friendship, though, try as you might to deny it, is how satoru’s hands always find yours when he walks you home, fingers lacing around your own as if it’s second nature.

ever since then, these routines have become a staple, and perhaps even does your growing feelings. the inexplicable one.

2008; nineteen.

satoru was right.

both of you did get into the same university, and the same course, with different minors so at least there’s some differences. so of course, satoru did not let the shared apartment idea go. though, of course, thanks to your initial hesitance on the matter, the only available apartment is a 4-bedroom, entirely too big and hence you’d convinced satoru to just rent the other bedrooms out for extra change.

and no, satoru does not need extra change because his family’s loaded (which you realised you didn’t even know before this) but at least this would allow you to not dwell on whatever you’re feeling too much. university is going to be stressful enough without the added consideration of your possible feelings towards satoru.

then enters geto suguru—your new roommate who, thankfully, steals enough of satoru’s attention so you have some breathing room. turns out, they’re like two peas in a pod. but while you and satoru major in business, suguru majors in psych. so that still means satoru’s around just you most of the time.

some routines change; like how movie nights are shared amongst the three of you in the living room instead of just you and satoru in your room. or how during grocery runs satoru still runs up to you when he finds you again except this time, an exasperated suguru is beside you sighing at him, always a “how do you stand this guy?” rolling off his tongue. the most surprising one for you might be how meals include suguru now and satoru’s the one who does the cooking now, and funnily enough, he’s absolutely great at it. no ounce of hesitation as he flips the pancakes, or stirs the fried rice—no whining about how it’s too hard because he’ll get burns on his fingertips and has to ask you to tend to his wounds.

but some change in a different way. they leave no room for someone else, like how satoru always finds your hands to hold on to, keeping you within a reach too close to pass as just friends but both of you refusing to label it anything else anyways. it leaves no room for other people to butt in and whisk either of you away.

and for now, at least, both of you are okay with just that.

2009; twenty.

participating in different activities and clubs inevitably mean that you and satoru wouldn’t be attached at the hip most of the time. and of course, while that leads to satoru becoming even clingier when you’re both home (not that you’re complaining when it’s nice to feel wanted from the very guy you’re completely not having a crush on), both of you are in separate social circles.

satoru occasionally has his friends over, the ones you don’t really know that well. the one where you can only remember names like haibara because he’s extra friendly and yuki because she’s one of the prettiest people you’d ever seen and nori because she’s a mix of the two. you’re nice, and cordial to all of them, although you can’t really say the same for satoru.

occasionally you and suguru invite your friends over, because nicely enough, you both have the same interests. it’s mostly shoko and nanami, a med student and law student respectively, but both of which satoru loves to annoy to no end. lucky for you, shoko is strangely naturally tolerant of his antics and nanami shrugs it off as white noise.

“y/n, surely you’d rather spend time with me rather than that blondie?” satoru always asks, pouting as he looks at you over his shoulder during breakfast—a constant whenever you have plans that involve nanami.

it’s kind of cute.

“mmm, that’s a secret,” you’d always tell him, knowing that satoru’s pouts won’t last all day anyway. it’ll relegate to an excited grin whenever you’re back after that.

you’d never really had to face your feelings, then, until all of you gather one night, before the holidays officially start. you should’ve known that something would be different this time, especially when there’s alcohol involved. naturally, in the circle you sit in, satoru asks people to scoot over, purposely sitting beside you, as close as he can, close enough that your arms and knees practically brush.

it’s just for a simple game of truth or dare, and it’s innocent enough until someone asks nanami and he says truth, and his truth is that out of everyone he knows, he’d most likely date you. beside you, while everyone else is whooping at the declaration, satoru clicks his tongue in annoyance, though he says nothing about it. and you’re not really emphatic about it until someone dares nori to kiss the guy she wants to date the most and she kisses satoru, deep and slow, in front of you, haibara letting slip that she’s had a crush on satoru for a while now.

satoru’s five shots in and tipsy and he was imagining that was you and maybe that’s why it lasted for five seconds before he pulls away.

and when it comes to satoru?

as though noticing his dilemma, suguru gives an amused smile as he states his dare, “kiss the girl you most wanna marry.”

he doesn’t waste a single second in pulling you close and kissing you, his alcohol-tainted lips pressing against yours, daring tongue teasingly prying open your lips, chuckling as he feels you kiss him back.

“not most,” satoru corrects right as the both of you pull away, his forehead still pressed against yours and both of your half-lidded pair of eyes still staring at each other.

“what?” you’re almost breathless, forgetting that everyone else is watching.

“the only girl i wanna marry.” and you think he’s never looked more handsome, genuine smile plastered on his face and pretty blue eyes threatening to pull you in.

while everyone moves on, satoru doesn’t—he keeps you there with him, telling you for the first time in four years since he’s known you, “i love you.”

the next week, after you get home for the holidays, the first time being away from satoru in a while, you manage to find your old pencil case, the folded paper swan satoru folded for you all those years ago still inside, somehow forgotten.

curious, you finally open it, finding his message enclosed inside, bringing a smile to your face.

i’m gonna marry you one day.

2010; twenty-one.

dating satoru is like finding a new hobby that you’re effortlessly good at.

despite living under the same roof, instead of finding out the ugly, you find the good in each other. even with suguru in the mix, you all live harmoniously like you have been since the start. except now, satoru likes to sleep in your room, both of you fooling around and occasionally forcing suguru to tell you to pipe down.

satoru is still full of surprises, sometimes pulling up with his car as though both of you don’t sleep under the same roof, telling you that he planned a date and to dress nice. he buys you flowers even if you’re not particularly fancy of them and surprises you by buying things that simply reminded him of you.

dating satoru is like finding out that the right person for you will always think of you and your feelings, no matter the circumstance. the way he makes sure to tell you if he has to hang around nori, or the way he asks if you need anything when he passes by the grocery store alone, or going so far as to memorise your cycle so he knows exactly what to show up back home with.

by the time it’s your one-year anniversary and his birthday comes and you ask him what he wants, all he can answer is “you” and for the first time, you can tell he isn’t trying to be annoying or cheeky or flirty—satoru is surprisingly simple and his answer always has been and somehow always will be just you.

2013; twenty-four.

you still remember the day satoru got down on one knee, his handsome smile even more radiant under the golden hour glow, those still-beautiful blue eyes gleaming even from beneath his bangs.

just an intimate proposal with your closest friends, both shoko and suguru helping to distract you in order to create a successful surprise, while nanami and haibara helped with the decorations and photography.

thanks to them, you’re laughing now, at your wedding reception, looking at all the ways you nearly found them out that day, exactly one year ago, in the form of pictures. and thanks to the best man’s toast, you find out that suguru’s always known about satoru’s feelings, and just how deep his emotions for you ran.

“i won’t forget how much he whined about y/n getting close to nanami. that was probably the one time his whining got so out of control that i wanted to stuff a pillow over his face,” suguru divulges, garnering laughs around the hall, including from you, as your new husband pouts and squeezes your hand.

thanks to that, nanami finds the need to disclose during his speech, “i have never intended to date nor had such thoughts about y/n. my truth during that game of truth or dare was simply the result of a process of elimination—” and haibara cuts him off to give a more fitting speech, fits of laughter all across the room.

that day, you steal glances at satoru, wondering how you got so lucky to be with someone who loves you so much and continuously proves so with every passing day.

“satoru?” you call to him softly that night, as you both find yourselves completely bare in the bedroom of your new apartment, one to yourselves.

his piercing blue eyes flick up to meet yours, relishing how it feels like inside of you, every time as though it’s the first. “yeah?” it’s breathy, because he’s about to lose himself.

“i love you, satoru, and only you, forever and ever,” you tell him, finally knowing that in this life, it will always be gojo satoru for you, and that it’s the same for him too.

he only chuckles, pulling you close, “forever me and you, baby, only us.”

2023; present day.

“wow, more than ten years, i think i need to give you a trophy for that, y/n.”

satoru groans, rolling his eyes. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

beside him, suguru laughs at shoko’s comment. this time, the six of you find yourselves at a round table in a seafood restaurant during satoru’s birthday, talking about how it’s you and satoru’s tenth year together too.

“i’m not too much, am i?” satoru teasingly asks you, although you only shrug in amusement before drinking your glass of water as an excuse not to answer.

you’ve always been like that, but it’s part of what satoru likes about you. scratch that, he’s loved every part of you since he met you. it’s like it was meant to be; or so he likes to think. there’s an undeniable pull that always lulls him back to you. to satoru, there’s never been question that you’re the only one for him, maybe that’s why it’s so clear-cut.

“you’re just so head over heels for me, huh?” you ask him, a smug grin on your face, the conversational context something he’s missing since he’s been zoning out in his thoughts.

since the first time he saw you, he’s been drawn to you every second of every day. maybe that’s why he did all those stupid stuff like pretending not to be able to cook and ‘accidentally’ burning himself to get you to tend to him, or purposely pricking himself with the needle and asking you to put a plaster over it just to feel you close. even those times at the supermarket when he purposely loses you so he can find you again and see your helpless smile and feel the way you rub his head affectionately afterwards.

maybe it’s stupid too, how he had to silently admit he knows how to cook all too well because he didn’t want suguru to taste your cooking when he first moved in. it was something satoru felt he wanted to himself, something he wanted to keep between him and his future wife. or how a wordless stare between him and suguru during that game of truth or dare was all suguru needed to know that satoru wanted to make you his at that very second, afraid that kiss between him and nori would make you hesitant.

he shouldn’t have underestimated you though, because you know him better than most people do. there were never any pointless arguments or unrecoverable friction.

as they sing happy birthday annoyingly loud like best friends do, chanting for him to make a wish—his hands find yours again as they always did, he can honestly say that there’s no other way he’d rather live his life. you’re made for him and he has you and the little mini yous at home so really, there’s nothing that he has to wish for.

except, maybe, one thing, if he could be selfish.

in this life, and every other life, he’ll want to be with you and only you, forever.

[vivalabunbun]

Into the Sky of Artificial Stars

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

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

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

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

Are you just your conscience? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your prediction was correct. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That a singularity would signal the end of humanity. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Didn’t you have a meeting scheduled for today? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Congratulations.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yep, they’re in one of these bags.” 

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

“Please come help with the groceries.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just take those to the kitchen.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What made man? Intellect? Innovation? Language? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm… no, not right now.”

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

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

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

“I’ll leave you be then.” 

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

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

He hypothesizes there to be some leftovers spinning around. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–----

“C’mon, eat, eat.” Your mother places a hearty serving of Biryani in front of you. 

The old kitchen table groaned under the weight of the spread of dishes on its surface. To call it anything short of a feast would be a lie. The walls of the modest home are filled with a variety of rich aromas and spices. 

“You have to eat to study harder, don’t think just because you made it into the Akademiya you can take it easy now.” Your father remarked. 

“I wouldn’t dare dream of it.” You picked up your fork. 

Letting out a chuckle, he pats your back as a rare smile graced his stern face. Your mother’s face mirrored the same radiance, the beaming glow of pride. For you, their daughter, their only child, and only hope had been accepted into the Akademiya. 

The most prestigious university of all of Sumeru and Teyvat, with millions competing for those few spots each and every year. Only the best of the best, only those who outshone the rest, and only those gifted and blessed would ever be admitted.

Yet, you were sent a letter from the oh-so-grand institution. 

A child from a town far away in the shadows of the grand Akademiya was accepted.

What were the odds of that? For a child whose own parents never got the opportunity for higher education to become the first to go off to university? The cause of this celebratory feast. 

The warm Spring breeze contributed to the sweetness of this small moment in time, as plates were passed and glasses clanked.

All those scattered notes, cramped hands, and revisions have rewarded you with the golden brilliance of sunrise after endlessly long nights. 

A smile crept up the corners of your lips. A light has finally appeared to illuminate this trending path you’ve climbed. 

Your father washed down his previous bite with a sip from his cup, placing it down before he began his next question:

“Have you decided on which Darshan to go into?” 

The sweet breeze turns into a chill down your spine as your fork halts its motion. The dilemma you have been dreading has finally arrived at the kitchen table. 

You had to memorize every mathematical formula. You had to pinpoint every detail in a historical timeline. You had to know every syntax of a sentence. You had to understand the molecular structures of life. 

A child had to learn everything, and now they had to pick something to learn. How would the child know? The child only knew how to study. 

“Amurta? Spantamad? Oh, what about Kshahrewar? I heard that it was also good.” Your mother chimed in. 

“Amurta?” Your father scoffed a bit. 

“Dear, as if this tuition isn’t expensive enough, think of how much med school will cost.” 

“Oh I know, I know, but you know how well doctors get paid! I heard those labs also give a decent salary.” Your mother reasons. 

“Ah, but it takes too long. Engineering isn’t half bad either, there’s been a demand for more engineers recently.” Your father takes another sip of his drink.

“Oh, but it’s not up to us,” she turned to face you. 

“It’s up for our little scholar now isn’t it?” 

A paradoxical question, because your options were already decided for you from the very start.

Carefully selected paths were already laid out before you as your parents watched on with expecting eyes, waiting for your foot to take a step on the path they wanted most. 

Poking at a stray grain of rice on your plate, you gather up the scattered pieces of courage. You were a child who only knew how to study, yet, a child is still susceptible to dreams, no?

“I have thought about it.” You began.

“And?” Your mother couldn’t help but nudge you to continue. 

“I was thinking about Rtawahist,” you confessed. 

It was as if even the sweet Spring air wanted to escape the now-still walls, leaving dread to fill the void it had left. No dishes were passed, no utensils rattled, and no cups clinked. Just bewildered stares you couldn’t bring yourself to answer. 

“Rtawahist? As in the school that looks at the sky?” Your father’s face had returned to its stern default. 

“Astronomy? Yes, that’s the Darshan that studies Astronomy.” Your eyes didn’t dare leave your plate. 

Among the options selected by them from their perceptions of future opportunities and prestige for you. You dare interject with one of your own. 

A deep sigh sealed your fate. 

“Astronomy? You want to study Astronomy? And get what job?” 

The pierce from your father’s harsh tone made you flinch, even though you expected it. 

“You can look at the stars for free, why would I pay to send you to school to study something so useless?”

“There are jobs for Astronomy.” You reasoned. 

“Like what?” His finger drummed against the wood. 

“Like-” 

You made the mistake of looking up from your plate, the fragile wisps of courage dissipated like smoke the moment you did. All the arguments and rebuttals you had prepared vanished along with it. The frown that pulled down your father’s face and the scrunched brow concern of your mother’s were enough to snuff out your pitiful rebellion. 

“Go on.” He challenged. 

“...” 

“That’s what I thought.” Your father snatched up his cup. 

Your focus retreated back to your plate, recentering on the grains of rice you pushed around with the ends of a fork. A motion that continued until another hand stopped yours. 

“Little one…” Your mother began. 

Her thumb traced over your fidgeting hand, a touch which comforted yet scorned you all at once. 

“You know that lady who lived down the street? Her son got a career working with computers and now they live in a big house, doesn’t that sound nice?”

You hummed. 

“Kshahrewar isn’t so bad, right? Just a few years and then you can get a good job.” 

Yes, she had spelled out the purpose of your studies like red-inked corrections on a test. It was how it always was, why did you think it would change now?

Having to prove you deserved the food on the plate in front of you.

Having to bring home top grades to prove all those books and materials were worth it.

Having to get a job that could break this cycle your parents were trapped in. How else would you be able to pay them back? 

It was their mora, earned from long hours and labor, that fed you, clothed you, and sheltered you. They made your world with their calloused hands. It was their justification to command it as well. You were their only child, their only investment. 

This was the dilemma imposed upon you. 

–----

Your fingers clench around the childish imitation of the night sky, running the plastic surfaces under your mindless touch. Thoughts still light years away in the recesses of your memories. 

How silly, for someone who loved the planet and the stars so much how did you forget that one fascinating detail? Planets orbit a sun because of gravity.

It was the force of a greater mass that commanded the lesser, it was what kept a planet going round and round within its grasp. It was the gravity of the sun that gave a planet a direction, a path to follow, a purpose even. 

Perhaps it’s because the sun knew what was best for its little planet.

It was the diplomas framed nicely on a wall that granted you a secure job, it was your cushy job that permitted you to purchase this cushy home. 

Your parents planned this out long ago, thus you merely just followed. 

However, when the sun disappears, when the central mass that gave a small planet a purpose disappears, what would the little planet do? 

Drifting endlessly in a vacuum of nothingness, with no direction, no path, no light. No day or night and an endless Winter, would it be as if the world stopped spinning.

That little planet would be no different than a cold lump of rock in a vast emptiness. 

A sharp creak pierces through the tormentful quietude, a chirr that reels your thoughts back to a dusty room. Head instinctively following the direction of the noise, you fixate on the doorway.

Catching the diffused afternoon sun glimmering in silver locks reminiscent of starlight. 

Alhaitham stands silently at the threshold of the door, its frame perfectly centering him as his teal eyes analyze you. Not a single engineered limb crossed the boundary of the dusty room. Just as it was defined in a set of restrictions implemented into his system by you. 

As evidenced by his unintentional disregard for his environment, the floorboards bearing witness to his careless execution of chores, you restricted him from this decrepit room.

Although all it contains is a chaotic collection of trinkets and keepsakes, the dust-coating provides them with a blanket of security. You saw no reason to change it. 

A telling teal glow blinks momentarily before Alhaitham breaks the lull.

“Are you uncomfortable anywhere?”

It was just now that you noticed the wet trails rolling down your cheeks. Wiping away the cooling dampness on your skin, you confirmed the presence of tears. Your senses took their time returning from their escapade.

Alhaitham remains in his spot, patiently awaiting your next response. How embarrassing it is, to be seen in such a state by a being who could shed no tears. Quickly, you wipe away the trails on your other cheek.

“I’m fine, just lost in thought for a moment.” Swiftly you place the toy down.

A smooth weight encased in the palm of your hand reminds you of the ring, the item that lured you into this dusty room.

Perhaps it should be best to have let it remain undisturbed on your finger. It’s a common wives’ tale that keepsakes ward off bad omens. 

“Is that truly all?” He made a no move, his eyes rescanning the environment as if unconvinced by your answer. 

You wonder if it’s because of some protocol or conditional in his software. Safety measures set in place during this test of whether an artificial being could live in harmony with mortals. 

However, as you gaze upon your magnum opus the specifics of programming and software fade into irrelevancy. Trailing your eyes up from his teal irises to his starlight silver trusses that glimmered in the soft light, revealing a hint of mint. It took you a while to find that exact shade during his manufacturing stage. 

There’s always a chance that a drifting planet could be caught in the orbital pull of another. Whether it be man-made or not didn’t matter.

As long as it was of a significant mass its gravity should be enough to pull a lonely planet from its aimless wanderings. It can set the stray planet into a new orbit, giving it a new path. 

A small lump of rock could find a new star to center around. 

“Yes, I’ll be fine.” 

You will be fine. Slowly, and with one step after another, you will be fine one day. 

The typical 24-hour day for a working adult can be broken down into a set schedule. Waking up at around 8 a.m. to wash one’s face and brush their teeth as they make themselves presentable for work. Followed by a light breakfast or a cup of coffee before. 

Some then start their commute to work or jump onto their desktop to clock in around 9 a.m. to begin their work. In the middle of their shift, usually around noon, they are granted a one-hour lunch break, after that they work until 5 p.m. when they finish their work. 

Coming back home to enjoy dinner around 7 p.m. followed by an hour or two of leisure before a bedtime routine begins. Washing the day's influences off oneself, brushing their teeth, and changing into comfortable attire.

If they want to get a restful 8 hours of sleep they cannot go to bed any later than 10:45 p.m. to account for the 15-minute downtime to allow the body to enter the sleeping state. 

This cycle then resets and repeats just as the sky cycles through the sun and moon. A typical and average reality for most adults in Sumeru. Well, from the data he pulled from the Akasha, this was the typical day for the average working civilian. 

It just so happens that you’re a stray data point skewing the graph.

If he were to estimate your bedtimes from the activity of your desktop and laptop, it would be a chaotic set of timestamps ranging from 2 a.m. to 5 a.m., sometimes the activity on your devices never ceased. An indication of what is referred to as an ‘all-nighter’.

Behavior that might be acceptable for those attending the Akademiya, but certainly not for a working adult. 

At this moment, Alhaitham stood in the hall just a few steps away from your bedroom door. His frame remained motionless to avoid disturbing the floorboards beneath him.

Taking into account your device’s activities, Alhaitham estimates your bedtime was 4: 45 a.m. this morning. Given how your alarm is set to around 8 a.m., amounting to about 3 hours of sleep.

Not even half of the recommended time by Sumeru’s health administration. 

By all means, Alhaitham finds it confounding how you’re still able to perform so efficiently at your job, managing both the Insitute and Akademiya while operating on a few morsels of sleep.

He wonders if that was the reason why you were selected as the personnel who’s facilitating his learning. 

Perhaps, they hoped he’d emulate your work ethic and efficiency. How unfortunate, his self-learning pivoted him away from such conduct. 

As he stands observing the woodgrain of your door, Alhaitham finds himself at a crossroads. It’s not within his capacity to interfere, conditionals coded into his software to prevent him from disrupting your privacy.

Laws mandating the privacy of employees and civilians alike.

Simultaneously, there are protocols instilled in him that instruct him to prevent harm from befalling you. 

A contradiction. Something that would cause a regular system to return an error as it fails to satisfy one conditional while trying to work within the bounds of another. 

Chronic sleep loss results in an increased risk of heart attacks, strokes, and hypertension.

Long-term sleep loss also results in impaired memory and concentration, although it’s not affecting your productivity now, it doesn’t mean it won’t decline soon.

These statistics were all provided by Sumeru’s health administration. 

The effects on the brain are quite severe as well, with increased feelings of stress, anxiety, and depression.

A quiet afternoon scene replays, in a dust-covered room, where he found you staring off at nothing as silent rivulets rolled down your cheeks.

That memory stored within his RAM was enough for Alhaitham to come to his conclusion. 

Alhaitham must act on his own will and deal with anything that appears harmful in his eyes.

To allow you to continue your destructive routine which is proving to be detrimental to your health would be inadvertently allowing harm to befall you. Thus, he decides one conditional must override another. 

Careful to prevent the hinges of your bedroom door from trilling, Alhaitham enters. Analyzing the shape outlined by messy layers of blankets draped over your figure, you must still be in the depths of slumber.

There are about 15 minutes before your first alarm is set to go off, since your commute was a simple walk to your home office, you had the flexibility to sleep through a few grating beeps. 

This habit could use a few improvements. He turns his focus to the thick curtains hiding the room away from the greetings of a morning star.

Sunlight sends a signal to the pituitary gland, calling to suppress melatonin production and increase cortisol production and serotonin.

A natural cue for your body to start, to allow the bright rays to touch your skin would also be good for vitamin production too. 

With a simple tug, the thick drapes were pulled away, granting the rays of the sun to enter and illuminate the still room.

Your body instinctively retreats deeper under the covers, a clear sign that the light is doing its job. He’ll leave the rest up to the alarm impatiently waiting to belt out its chorus of pitches. Just like the shadows slipping away, he exits just as quietly. 

It took only two alarms to get you out of bed and ambling down the hall toward the kitchen. A 60% decrease from when the curtains were shut, however, more trials are needed to conclusively establish a pattern.

His teal gaze follows you as you approach the kitchen. Hands rubbing at your eyes. 

“Why is it so bright?” Your words were groggy. 

“It’s morning,” he answers. 

An unamused glare replaces the fatigue in your expression, Alhaitham deems his response satisfactory. 

After a deep sigh, you shut your eyes again, still trying to adjust to the brightness surrounding you, hands returning to rub at your eyelids.

Excessive rubbing of the eyes isn’t good for them, he notes. However, before he could address it another prompt from you took priority. 

“Did I leave my curtains open last night?” You asked yourself. 

“Coffee?” He interjects. 

Glancing back up at him, you paused for a moment as your groggy mind remembered why you traversed to the kitchen in the first place, diverting your attention away from mysteriously moving drapes. 

“Yes, please make me a cup, Alhaitham.” 

“Understood.”

The android turns toward the marble countertop, preparing the coffee grounds into the machine as you sit at your place at the table.

One day isn’t enough to correct a bad habit, but over time, bit by bit, your schedule will fall into a new rhythm. 

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

The cheerful doorbell ring interrupts Alhaitham amidst reorganizing the books on a shelf. Right on schedule.

From just down the hall he hears the knob of your office door turn as it opens, followed by a few cautious steps as you venture closer to the front door. As you pass the doorway of the library, Alhaitham observes the furrow between your brow on your perplexed face. 

“Is there someone at the door?” You turn to him. 

Another ring followed by a few gentle knocks answers your question for him as your head snaps back into the direction of the noise. Crime in this suburban neighborhood is very low, but he does understand why you’d want to be careful.

Perhaps, he should accompany you to ease your nerves over the sudden ring from the door. 

With an android just behind you, you had finally mustered up the courage to answer the daunting door under his teal supervision. 

“Hello, delivery from Lambad’s Tavern, paid online.” 

“Huh?-” 

“One order of Minty Bean Soup, one order of butter chicken, and one rose custard?” The delivery man interrupts your confusion as he lists off your entrees. 

“Yes…” you reply as you cast a glance back at an idle android. 

The entrees listed were all dishes you asked him to make you for lunch a few hours earlier. Judging by the suspicion upon your furrowed brows, he could tell that you noticed as well. However, with a delivery man holding out the takeout bag on the front steps. It’d be rude to just have him remain there, no? 

“Enjoy your meal!” He announces as he hands over the bag into your arms. 

“Yes, thank you.” You close the door, spinning around almost instantly to confront the android with the bag still in hand. 

“Did you order this?”

“Yes.” 

“Again? I asked you to make food, not order it,” you tsk. 

“I did it to optimize my time.” Crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

“All you have to do is heat up the frozen meals.” 

“Then according to protocol, I’d have to stay in the kitchen to watch over the oven and stove, not to mention the dishes I’d have to wash afterward. So ordering takeout would save time as well as not prevent me from my task of organizing-”

“Okay, okay. I get it.” You concede with a sigh. 

Taking a few steps past him towards the direction of the kitchen before you pause midstep to turn back to him. 

���Do not use your funds to order weird things off the internet.” You warn before promptly continuing on your way to have your late lunch. 

“Understood.” 

Just as he suspected, there isn’t a problem that can’t be helped with a bit of mora. If Alhaitham were to follow your request as you instructed, he knew that the reheated meal would turn cold as it sits abandoned on the kitchen table.

Even when he informs you of his task’s completion, you’d push back your lunchtime until you needed another dose of caffeine. 

However, a simple ring of a doorbell could do what he can’t. Drawing your attention and body away from the confines of your desk. An efficient reminder to have your meals at a regular time if he says so himself.

Besides, fresh ingredients are better than frozen meals in terms of nutrients. 

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

The sun had long retreated into a navy blanket of the night, allowing the moon to take its place in the sky. Serene beauty watching over the nighttime bustle of Sumeru city slowly peters out, and many return to their homes at the beck and call of slumber. 

Alhaitham settled himself upon his spot on the couch, a lamp just off to the side illuminating the pages of his book softly. The quiet lull of the living room periodically broken by the crisp turn of a page.

The typical rhythm that resonates through the house around this hour. His acute senses pick up a frustrated pair of steps pattering closer. 

Ah, yes a new accompaniment has jumped this evening's tempo. 

“Is the router having issues again?” You groan as your frame appears from around the corner. 

Casting a halfhearted glance off to where said device sat on a side table, his teal eyes return to his book. 

“The light shows that it’s online.” 

“Then why is it taking forever to upload a simple file? It’s been five minutes and it’s not even halfway done.” You took quick strides past his idle frame. 

Crouching down to be at eye level with the device in question. Unplugging the power cord from its back and then sticking it back. Eyes studying the blinking lights as the router reboots and reconnects to the internet.

Pulling out your phone, you sigh as you try to load up a webpage only to be met by a spinning circle of contemplation. 

“Network providers tend to have slowdowns this late at night, some say it's due to bandwidth congestion while others argue that they do it to cut costs,” Alhaitham states, teal eyes honed in onto the text as to avoid your pouting glare. 

“Very helpful, Alhaitham.” Another sigh leaves you as you stand back up. 

He spoke the technical truth, those companies do tend to slow down their networks at night to save on some operational costs.

However, in this case, it was the former that was causing your device’s screens to perpetually stay in loading. Activities such as streaming videos, music, or downloading files take up the most bandwidth.

Alhaitham simply wanted to download some digital copies of recent scientific journals, and maybe a few songs here and there as well. All done simultaneously which led to some congestion.

How unfortunate. 

“This has been happening for the past month now, I should call the network provider, it’s driving me up a wall.” Another groan of frustration. 

His teal eyes follow your figure from behind the tops of his book, watching you rub your temples as if to expel the exasperation from your body with each mumble that leaves your lips. 

“The internet’s so slow I can’t even connect to the Akasha’s databases, that file is still uploading, what should I do in the meantime?”

His hearing was able to pick up each syllable uttered from under your exhausted breath. He shifts his focus momentarily toward the clock just across the room, reading: 10:00 p.m. Since you asked, it’s only right that he responds with his input. 

“It’s an issue beyond your control, the best option to utilize your time at this moment would be to get an adequate amount of rest.” 

This time it was your turn to respond to him with a deadpan stare, clearly unamused by his suggestion. 

“I want to analyze a few more datasets.”

“Missing a few hours of overtime won’t have any determinate effects on your productivity or livelihood.” 

“This is for the sake of your development, Alhaitham.” You sigh as if your statement would mystically change his rationale. 

“The short-term gratification you’ll get from sacrificing your rest for a few revelations isn’t worth the long-term ramifications of your health.” He bluntly discloses. 

Silence fills the room once more, but something odd seems to have mingled with the serenity of the air. This strange inclusion prompts Alhaitham to finally turn away from the pages, connecting his gaze with yours. 

“Was my response unsatisfactory?” He studies your expression, and rather than furrowed brows, he finds a soft roundness to your eyes. 

Him staring at you, you staring at him. A scene that continued for a few beats more before you were the first to break the stalemate. 

“No, not at all… it’s just very reminiscent of something I’ve heard before…” You turn away as his gaze follows. 

A few slow strides take you back to the corner, figure just about to disappear into the shadows engulfing the halls before you abruptly turn around. 

“Goodnight, Alhaitham.”

“Goodnight.” He mirrors. 

Alhaitham marks today as another successful trail of correcting a bad routine. 

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

Adequate amounts of sunlight, regular meals, and coffee grounds mysteriously find themselves placed on the highest shelf in the cabinets. All the factors were in place to regulate a disastrous sleep schedule. 

Yet when Alhaitham checks your device activity, the data points remain scattered about the twilight hours of the morning. A true paradox.

Amongst the Summer afternoon rays seeping in through the windows, Alhaitham was tasked with tidying up the kitchen. An obscure cabinet in a corner was the last section before he could deem the request complete. 

There wasn’t anything in particular about the cabinet, it’s space housing an assortment of various vitamins. That was until his hand brushed against a plastic container which didn’t conform to the typical shape of vitamin bottles. 

Grasping it within his hand, he pulls the irregular bottle out from the murky depths of a cabinet and out into the sunlight where its identity unravels: a prescription bottle.

Barbiturates sedatives, colloquially referred to as sleeping pills, are used in treatments for insomnia. 

It looks like Alhaitham has stumbled upon the answer to the paradox printed on the faded label of a neglected bottle. 

Frankly, this revelation wasn’t all that surprising. He had long suspected it from the symptoms and behaviors you display daily. But it’s always good to support a hypothesis with evidence. 

Studying the container in his hand further, his gaze narrows as it hones in a corner of the label. In particular, the date printed along it. This bottle expired two years ago. 

It’s recommended that every civilian visits the Bimarstan annually for a checkup, in a nation where healthcare is free and accessible, this typically isn’t an issue.

Once more, you stood alone as a data point outside of the cluster. 

Stepping into the living room, he finds you tinkering with the network router again. A few more steps and then he was by your side. 

“When was your last medical check-up?” Cycling through his memory, Alhaitham failed to recall the last time you had a medical assessment.

Your body halts momentarily, before glancing up at his beryl eyes.

“I’m relatively healthy, there’s no reason for an assessment.” 

“The Department of Health recommends annual checkups at the very least.” 

“I don’t need to go to the Bimarstan,” you declare. 

A weight pulled down at the corners of his lips, creating what is called a frown. An expression he observed many times upon your lips whenever you label him as ‘stubborn’. He might finally grasp why you do such a thing.

Stubbornness isn’t such a good trait when you’re on the other side of it. Fortunately, he anticipated this. 

“In accordance with the law, you do.” The contents of the plastic bottle rattle as he reveals it, drawing your gaze toward it. 

“The regulation behind your prescription requires that all expired medication be brought back to the Bimarstan for proper disposal.” Denunciation behind his glass irises. 

Lips pressing into a thin line, you advert your eyes back to the blinking router in front of you. Each second of silence announces your defeat.

Human actions are limited by a set of laws and they must operate within the bounds, not too different from restrictions imposed on machines.

The consequences looming just a step away discourage most mortals from crossing the threshold. 

“I’ll schedule an appointment for noon next week, making use of your saved paid time off is recommended, does that work?” He prompts. 

“Alright.” 

A weight is alleviated from his lips, triggering the corners to curl upwards. A common response to the accomplishment of a challenge, he understands now why a mortal body does it. 

Perhaps a doctor's visit has been long overdue, foggy recollections of if the curtains were shut the night before and if a bag of coffee was accidentally misplaced. Poor memory is one of the repercussions of sleep deprivation, you’re aware of this fact. 

Healthcare in Sumeru is highly accredited for its accessibility and quality, the Bimarstan being the standard many hospitals around Teyvat strive to be. To have such a thing so accessible to you, it’s baffling to many how you failed to utilize such privilege.

You had your reasons. 

Many of these prominent doctors and diligent nurses were once classmates. A few vaguely familiar faces from across a lecture hall of some general course.

Faces you’ve passed slumped over textbooks and piles of notes in the late hours of the House of Daena, their dark circles matching yours.

Faces that graduated alongside you as celebratory cheers rang out with caps littering the air.

It’d be strange to meet someone you attended the Akademiya with once again in an examination room. 

After their years of medical school and surviving residency, you’re certain they’re more than qualified at their jobs. However, it doesn’t change the course of averted eyes and superficial pleasantries.

You breathe out a deep sigh as the receptionist calls out for you, informing you that you could head down to a private room. 

Leaving your seat in the waiting room, you do as the receptionist instructs, exiting the lively environment into a placid hallway. The receptionist’s face didn’t evoke any familiarity, nor did the doctor’s name listed on your appointment.

Many of these prominent doctors and diligent nurses were once classmates, but not all. 

Candidly, there’s only one classmate who you’d avert paths with within this establishment. In a hospital as large as the Bimarstan, the average number of staff ranges from around 5,000.

The odds of encountering a particular face out of a pool of thousands is nonzero. 

A polite knock draws you from your thoughts, your eyes travel toward the door of the private room you entered not too long ago as the handle slowly turns. Thick oak swinging ajar to reveal the figure on the other side. 

“Good afternoon, I’m Dr. Rana, I’ll be taking care of you today.” 

You return her greeting with a courteous smile and nod, statistics in your favor, the odds were nonzero but still a minuscule likelihood. 

The checkup was rather uneventful, a few questions were asked as she pulled up your medical records. You pulled out the expired medication for her to examine and deal with.

Vitals checked and documented as the appointment drew to a close, a notepad and pen in her hands as she turned to you. 

“Overall your health seems fine, although…” she trails off.

You could feel the weight of her stare upon the discoloration ever-present under your eyes, no layer of concealer to cover them. You could already guess her next sentence. 

“Would you like a refill of your prescription?”

“No, it’s fine.” It’d just be another bottle to be neglected in the back of a cabinet. 

“I see…” This time her eyes move back and forth between your sitting figure and a clock hanging in its place on a wall. 

“I… have to process some paperwork, could you wait here for a few minutes?” A polite smile graced her lips. 

“Of course.” You mimic her actions. 

A day requested off to account for a drawn-out appointment, to account for a scenario like this his foresight analysis is making great progress.

You should take note of that once you return home, a daily log still needs to be updated to track consistent progress after all. It’s technically your day off, but you’re free to decide what to do with it.

As you pondered a checklist to complete once you got in front of your desk the door creaks open. 

“Oh? That was fast, Dr. Rana-” The sentence dying upon the tip of your tongue as your lips press into a firm line. 

The odds of encountering one familiar face out of a pool of thousands is a small nonzero number, however, if that number was increased to three faces out of those thousands, the chances increase.

How unfortunate, even with such small odds, you managed to come face-to-face with the three people you wanted to avoid the most. 

They file into the room and the last one closes the door behind himself as your eyes scan over them. Starting with the ebony-haired man in the center, Tighnari, a doctor at the Bimarstan. It makes sense for a doctor to be in a hospital on this fine day, but not for a lawyer, or an architect.

Four former classmates gathered in an examination room, how strange. 

Still, you’ve grown enough to adapt to such peculiar situations. Practiced corporate smiles and pleasantries to navigate this stagnant air. 

“Cyno, Tighnari, Kaveh, it’s a surprise to see you all here. It’s been a while.” 

“A while is a bit of an understatement…” Kaveh is the first of the trio to converse, offering you a small smile. 

You return it with one that didn’t reach your eyes. The rhythmic ticks of a clock fill the silence, shifting eyes anticipating and preparing for the next phase of this impromptu reunion. The doctor finally decides to speak up. 

“You haven’t been sleeping enough, have you.” Tighnari examining your under eyes. 

“I never sleep enough, you know that.” Of course you never slept enough.

How could you sleep when the threat of falling behind the geniuses sitting around a library table was always looming over you? Geniuses who easily grasp the concepts and theories that elude you. How could you lay in bed when you had to catch up to them? 

“So, why this sudden get-together?” Impatience rising inside you with each passing tick of the clock. 

Dropping the formalities and social pleasantries, you watch as another round of shifting eyes passes. You already had an inkling of the answer they’re still hesitating to address. Finally, your former Kshahrewar senior responds for the group. 

“We’re worried about you, you haven’t been in contact for a while now.” Kaveh’s voice was low and mellow, you could tell he took extra effort in marking it such. 

The same low and mellow tone he’d speak to you with as he tried to explain your mistakes on an exam, the tone which accompanied the pity in his gaze toward you as he pointed out each miscalculation on your paper. The tone made you ball your fist up on your lap.

“I’m fine, just busy.” 

“Please don’t start with that again.” The blond sighs, sympathy still ever-present in his eyes. 

“I’m just busy with work, as are all of you, we’re no longer students with minimal responsibilities,” you retort. 

The days when a group of friends could gather around a table for hours on end, half bantering and half studying, basking in the Spring warmth streaming in from the grand windows of the House of Daena have long passed. 

“We all have busy careers, that’s true, but not to the extent of being a detriment to our health.” With a sigh, Tighnari began his health lecture. 

Expounding upon the negative consequences of a poor work-life balance. Shifting your focus instead on tuning out this lecture you didn’t sign up for. 

“You stopped listening… of course,” a deep sigh concludes the doctor’s sermon. 

Ah, you’ve been found out. The polite smile straining itself upon your lips, legs itching to walk out of this restrictive space. 

“Here, it’s a contact of mine, I recommend you give her a call-” 

“It’s fine.” You promptly push away the business card just as Tighnari presents it to you, a thread of patience stretched thinly. 

“She can help you through-” he continues. 

“It’s fine, my research is just busy-”

“This isn’t healthy.” 

“It’s my research.” A sharp undertone leaks through your professional demeanor. 

“And this is why we’re worried about you!” Kaveh’s patience was the first snap. 

Then again, your senior might have been the light of Kshahrewar and a praised genius, but he was never the best at handling his emotional regulation. 

“Look around, don’t you see how concerned we are about you? No returned texts or calls and no answers at a doorbell for years, only ever talking about this research. It’s as if you-” he stops himself, rudy eyes meeting with your cold stare. 

He knew better than to finish that sentence, you knew that he knew he shouldn’t. 

“We’re worried about you, this research… it’s not good for you.” Tighnari interjects, attempting to shift the course of this intervention. 

Of course, when the development of an android was announced, there wasn’t just discourse amongst the general public, but debates raged throughout academia as well. How unfortunate it is that friends now stand at polar ends. 

“It’s my research,” you reaffirm. 

This research was why you got your doctorate, it’s why you have a job, it’s why you have a house. This research has entangled itself into the very fibers of your life. It was where a predetermined path had led you. 

The room fills once more with a lull, nothing but deep sighs and ever-shifting eyes. Neither side is able to get through to the other. Typical of most academic debates. Still, it seems they weren’t ready to end the intervention so soon. 

“Listen… we’re worried for you, I… I know it’s been very difficult these past years.” Your senior takes a step closer. 

That same sympathetic timbre brings a vile taste to your tongue. You stay silent in favor of pushing the bitterness down as it tries to claw its way through your polite façade.

“I… know what it must have been like for you, It’s been hard on all of us. I’ve experienced something similar, so I can tell you-”

“I’m sorry, Kaveh. But tragedies shouldn’t be compared, because they’ll never have a fair comparison.” You end the conversation. 

Just like how it isn’t fair to compare stars who were their own centers of gravity with a mere rock at the mercy of an orbital pull to give it direction. 

Even when you sat at the same table as them, you were never at the same level as them. Families with academic prestige, minds blessed with wisdom, and the freedom to pursue a self-chosen path. You could only ever look up at what you lacked.

“Your worlds kept on spinning, your lives move on with the change of the season. But not mine, mine stopped long ago.” It’s not fair to compare a rock to a star, from their silence, you assume they knew that too. 

“I’m now taking the initiative to make it start again, don’t interfere.” Your valediction to the geniuses whom you couldn’t live up to. 

It’s just the nature of this world, geniuses walked their own paths while others took another. Geniuses can’t understand those others, just as others can’t understand geniuses.

This doctor’s appointment has gone on for long enough. Gathering your belongings, you stride past them, eyes refusing to meet.

Your hand pried open the door, pausing just at the threshold as Cyno finally breaks his silence. 

“Is this truly what you want? To defy the edicts of finality with research?”

Ah, what an inquiry. Perhaps it’s just like a lawyer to ask such a thing. 

“Is my research in violation of any laws in Sumeru?” You refuse to meet his scarlet condemnation. 

“As of now, no.”

“Then I don’t see how this involves you, there’s no place for personal biases and mortals in the judicial system.” Crossing the threshold, the door creaks close behind you as hurried steps echo through the sterile hall. 

This was a mistake, you should’ve never come here. Your body was fine, your vitals are fine, you’re fine. There wasn’t a point in wasting time here, you needed to leave this place filled with faces offering you condolences. Exiting the narrow hall back into the dim murmurs that fill the waiting room, the last thread of patience starts to splinter. 

From the muddled chatter, a bright shrill rang above them all. Interrupting your contemplation as your eyes impulsively search for the source. Even in a sea of passing faces and colors, it didn’t take you long to find it. 

A young girl grins a smile with a few gaps as she stretches her arms out to her sides, mimicking an airplane. A young father helpless to his daughter’s giggles, hands secured around her legs as he lets her soar on his shoulders. Next to his side was a giggling mother, watching with amusement and endearment. 

A private moment hidden amongst the waiting room, you look away. You should return to the private walls of your house before that thread inevitably breaks. Sliding glass doors part to grant you exit from this suffocating cage.

Like a speck of dust drifting in the breeze, you disappear into the bustling crowd of Sumeru City. The push and pull of strangers further you along your route, even as your mind drifts off. 

With modern advancements in aerospace engineering, the chances of a plane crashing have decreased significantly, with recent statistics citing only 1 in about 11 million. A 0.00001% chance, a nonzero chance.

How long ago since the last time you’ve been inside an airport? What were your last memories of an airport? Do you remember?

–----

“Are you sure you can’t come with us?” Your mother’s thumb traced over your hand. 

“It’s a bit too late for me to pack, we’re already at the airport, Mom.” 

“Don’t you want to visit Fontaine? Didn’t you say they had really advanced things there?” She didn’t let go of your hand. 

“I’m busy with my thesis.” You were still in the midst of getting a Ph.D., the very thing they demanded of you. 

“But I planned this trip so we could spend time together.” Your mother tried to get you to meet her gaze.

You adverted your eyes. So this is how they spent their recent financial flexibility. With a scholarship and research-assistant salary, you had enough to cover the tuition by yourself, relieving your parents of that burden. But to get that scholarship and salary, you had to pay with your time. 

“I’m busy, mom.” You freed your hand from her grasp. 

“But-”

“Stop it dear, she’s not going to change her mind.” Your father’s gruff voice stopped your mother. 

“There’s no point in trying to change the mind of an ungrateful child.” 

You felt the weight of his disappointed stare upon you, a frown formed on your lips as they pressed together. This was a sudden trip announced to you just a few days prior, you didn’t have time to accompany them. But they didn’t seem to care.

Of course they didn’t. Your parents only ever saw the grades, the diplomas, the results. But they never bothered to see the anguish you endured to give it to them. 

“Enjoy your trip.” Words barely passed your clenched teeth as you turned around and walked away. 

An ungrateful planet ignored the calls from their mother in their first successful act of defiance. Trying to break away from their gravitational pull. 

–----

That was your last memory of the airport.

Those were the last memories two parents had of their child.

The child they sacrificed their time, labor, and freedom to build a better life for. Your parent’s last memories were that of an ungrateful child, maybe it was the last scene they thought of as a plane was swallowed by the salty depths. 

Humans, defined by their curiosity, will always yearn to reach as high as they can. Tales warning those to never fly too close to the ever-bright star ignored in the pursuit of radiant curiosity. Your parents were no different. 

They ever had the chance to travel, too busy trying to provide food in front of you. So when the burdening weight was lifted, naturally they wanted to stretch their wings to see the views they never got to in their youth. They always wanted to touch the sky, to reach for the moon.

There’s a proverb often told to young minds: ‘Shoot for the moon, even if you fall, you can still land on a star’. 

This saying is riddled with inaccuracies. The stars are much further away than the serene moon. Beckoning the curious eyes to look at them, for curious hands to yearn for them. 

But once the glue on those wings are melted away by selfish rays, what is there to catch them besides the cold unfeeling ocean? Did they sink from the memories of an ungrateful child weighing on them? 

You should’ve been on that plane. 

The familiar features of your neighborhood come into view, the doors of your house are just ahead. Just hold on, don’t let that thread snap just yet, just a few more steps. 

Tighnari had his father and mother working right alongside him at the Bimarstan.

Cyno had regular visits to his adoptive father, and sometimes his adoptive sister Lisa visits too.

Kaveh had reconnected with his mother overseas, now having a few younger half-siblings who jump to greet him every time he visits.

Lives still spinning and warm in the light of their brilliance. What do you have? 

A job in a career picked out for you. Paychecks rotting in a bank account with no one to pay back. A spacious and hallow house with no one to reside in its empty walls, only displaying a doctorate you loathed.

A stray rock who lost her stars. Wandering without their gravitational pull in the vacuum of a lonely darkness. Just what do you have?

“Alhaitham,” you call out just as the front door slams behind you. 

You could hear his steady steps approaching along the wooden floor, but it’s too slow so your frenzied steps close in the distance between your two forms. The thread gives in and snapping as the recoil proliferates through your body. 

Without a greeting, no prompt, or prior warning your grasp wrinkles his once pristine button-down.

The bitter tears you held back now soak into the fabric as even viler cries choke your voice. The shame of displaying such a sight in front of a being whose eyes don’t produce moisture is long abandoned. In the walls of this hallow house, your broken sobs echo off. 

He stands still in the middle of the hall, the low hum of his motor resonating in your ears as you hide your face deeper into the synthetic skin of his chest. But that’s fine, the whir of motor is enough of a substitute for a heartbeat. 

Alhaitham stands in front of the reflection staring back at him, he had undocked himself from the charging port not too long ago. Tracing over the synthetic material stretched over his imitation of a collarbone as his mind wanders.

There aren’t enough chemicals in tears to make them corrosive, nor were they at the temperature to boil.

So why does it burn?

Trailing his fingertips where your tears soaked onto his skin, recollections of the searing sensation that afflicted the area with each sorrowful drop. Choking sobs which he caused. 

He failed to consider all causal factors to assess the situation fully and failed to appraise all possible alternatives. He failed to make the right decision, and he let harm befall you because of it. It’s strange, there’s nothing wrong with his eyes, yet he finds it hard to look in the mirror. 

Teal gaze scrutinizes the arms, legs, and body in the reflection. The reflection in front of him had all the identifiable components of a man, but they’re all synthetic.

From the tips of his sliver hair to the vast expanse of his skin, they’re all made from high-quality silicon parts supported by a metal frame. An engineered body with a motor in place of a heart. 

Maybe that’s why he failed to make the right decision, he had no heart to weigh in on the ruling. 

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

The android is faced with a new dilemma. 

 From the entrance of the kitchen, Alhaitham watches you. A spoon absentmindedly swirling in the cup of coffee on the counter in front of you. Your thoughts wander elsewhere, the rays of a setting sun unable to light up dull spaced-out eyes.

He’s observed your condition for the past week, no hint of improvement. 

A new dilemma he must decipher, the urgency rising with each passing second as the spoon continues. 

The lull of the evening air was shattered by the sound of a porcelain cup meeting the tiled floor. Jagged pieces and coffee spilled all along the cold surface. Listlessly your eyes move to access the mess on the floor, spoon still grasped in your hand. 

“Ah.” That was all your lips could say. 

Limbs slowed with lethargy, you crouch down closer to the broken pieces scattered about. Bare hand reaching out to grab the sharp edges unthinkingly. A firm grasp prevents your touch from the ragged porcelain. 

“It’s dangerous, I’ll handle it.” Alhaitham brings your hand further away from the hazard. 

Your aloof eyes trail past him toward a wall where he could hear a clock tick before they returned to his resolute stare. 

“It’s past 5 p.m.” 

“A hazard has appeared in the environment, it’s protocol that I clear it.” His rehearsed response. 

“Oh… alright.” Limplessness returning to your wrist within his hold, body too lethargic to object. 

With you seated at the kitchen table away from the jagged edges that could potentially pierce your skin, Alhaitham begins gathering the pieces. As your aloof eyes wander about the monitor of your laptop, his mind ponders a dilemma. 

It’s often said that guilt is held in the heart. In novels and human anecdotes, it's been described to him as a burdensome heaviness that sinks the heart.

A sensation reminiscent of drowning in icy water. A sensation only perceivable through a beating mortal heart. 

Alhaitham is an android, he’s aware of this. A being with silicon skin encasing a metal frame. A motor in place of where a mortal heart would be.

So what is this weight burdening his chest? 

An internal diagnostic returned no errors and no reports of any damage or unusual occurrence within his systems. Yet, a heaviness brewed deep inside his chest, its mass increasing each sunrise and fall, with every passing moment the riddle was left unanswered. 

How could a motor hold guilt? How could the weight of judgment manifest itself in the absence of an organic heart that beats instead of whirs? How could an inorganic object possibly suffer guilt?

All the mora poured into his creation, all the hours of research contributed to his algorithms, and all the texts he’s scanned through were all for naught. The pinnacle of scientific and mechanical development couldn’t solve a simple conundrum.

The floorboard creaks under the weight of his steady strides as he moves about the corridor, the soft swishes of a broom coinciding with each step.

Dust had begun to settle in the crevices of the home, it’s about time that he took up the mantle that was supposed to be his. 

Could an explanation of this weight be the backlog of tasks and responsibilities he had pushed off? Chores he ignored in favor of browsing the contents of a library? A burden he selfishly passed onto your shoulders.

Maybe after he completes the tasks that were supposed to be assigned to him he could clear the cache, then this weight in his chest would subside. 

The bristles of the broom scratch against a door, the light force setting the frame ajar further. Revealing the dust-coated scene in front of him. A boundary he was restricted from.

Alhaitham concluded that this small corner of the house must hold some sentimental value to you, thus it’s best for him to not disturb it. 

Just as he goes to close the door, Alhaitham scans around the environment identifying the shape of a journal tucked away under an old table.

He’s not permitted to enter, but all books belong in the library. Spines sorted along wooden selves, not on a dusty floor.

An exception shall be granted, setting aside the broom, he steps in to collect the neglected book. 

While crouching down and gathering the covers into his hold, a different gleam catches his eye. The light reflects off its glass surface and highlights the dust particles dancing in the still air.

With his free hand, he picks it up, teal eyes running along the glass orb. After a moment of processing the object, he successfully identifies it as a toy.

A popular model to display an artificial starry night among blank walls. Alhaitham turns to follow a trail of cut-out stars pasted all along the walls. The soft glow of their plastic shapes subdued by the brilliance of the afternoon sun streaming in. 

Were you interested in stars? Glancing out the window, he discerns the murky shapes of buildings in Sumeru City off in the distance. 

This house is located in the suburbs away from the noisy clammer of the city streets and traffic. However, where the sound waves couldn’t travel didn’t mean the sky around this quiet neighborhood was uncontaminated by activities in the city.

When the sun retreats away for rest, the city doesn’t follow suit.

Through the power of fluorescent lights in street lamps and office buildings, humans created their own artificial daylight to continue the bustle of their lives. Light which polluted the night sky and stole the radiance away from her stars. 

Unable to enjoy the natural tapestry of the night, did you substitute the company of stars with toy imitations?

Turning the orb in his hand, his eyes notice the signs of damage along the projector. Perhaps that’s why it sat abandoned in this room.

He’s stayed in this restricted space long enough. Carefully closing the door behind him, hands still full. 

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

“I’ve uncovered a strange object, my software isn’t able to identify it.” Alhaitham stands just outside the open office door. 

Sparing him a glance away from your monitor, your brows pinched together in confusion at his sudden report during the late hours of the night. 

“A strange object?” You inquire again. 

“Yes, I’ve scanned over it a few times but no results are returning.” 

“Huh…” 

Teals watching you press a finger against your pursed lips in concentration. A habit of yours often displayed when amid contemplation. After a few breaths, your eyes meet his as you give your reply. 

“Well, where is this object?” 

“Come with me.” 

Along the wooden floor, two pairs of steps tap rhythmically in time with one another as they traverse the hallway stopping at the living room where the mysterious object resides.

Approaching the coffee table in the center, Alhaitham steps to the side to present it as it sits upon the polished surface. 

“This… is what’s been giving your software issues?” The quirk returned to your brow as you cast him a glance. 

Alhaitham simply nobs as you approach the object closer. Kneeling beside it, your eyes examine the familiar device. 

“It’s a planetarium projector, it projects the scene of a night sky, in other words: just a toy.” 

He hums in acknowledgment, carefully treading toward the light switch in the corner as the toy holds the gaze of your eyes. 

“It should be thrown away… It’s broken after all.” Your tone dismissive, yet your hand caresses the broken toy with tenderness. 

“It’s not,” he replies. 

Perking your head up, you turn to face him with that same furrow between your brows. 

“What do you mean, Alhaitham-”

He flicks the switch, plunging the room in a blanket of darkness earning a squeak of surprise from you. The device whirs as it awakens, painting the blank tapestry with a scene of the night sky with its shimmering lights.

The vibrant shapes of stars and planets take their place along the living room wall, creating a private galaxy that surrounds you. 

Your sentence remains unfinished upon your tongue as your eyes take in the display encompassing you. The nostalgic glimmer of the night and her stars twinkle in the reflection of your irises as he settles down beside you. 

“Did… did you fix it?”

He hums in response. 

It only took a bit of study and careful tinkering to restore the worn pieces and gears. A simple effort was all it took to allow the projector to shine its recreation of the stars. Returning a light that he hasn’t seen in a while. 

“Thank you, Alhaitham,” you breathe out, lips curling up softly and eyes still enraptured by the stars. 

He doesn’t respond this time as his teal gaze focuses on your expression, on the smile that’s been missing for some time. It’s strange, this sensation manifesting in his chest. He thought if he was able to restore the light to your eyes, then that heaviness brewed deep inside his chest would clear. But it remained. 

His system unable to express nor suppress the heaviness which bubbled up like seafoam rising to the surface.

The sensation was different than it was before. Instead of a mass that weighed him down to the bottom of a cold depth, it was more reminiscent of a warm ebb. Washing over every limb of his as he studied the curvature of your lips and the glimmer of your eyes. 

Another internal diagnostic wasn’t necessary, for Alhaitham had reached his epiphany to a conundrum. An engineered body may lack a heart, but not a conscious.

A consciousness that acts like a vessel collecting the accumulation of that heaviness. A heaviness that couldn’t be called ‘guilt’. 

No, perhaps it has always been something other than ‘guilt’.

It only took until the vessel overflowed for an engineered body to recognize it for what it truly was.

There’s something strange happening to your Android. Reviewing the diagnostic reports of his systems returned nothing out of the ordinary. So why did you suspect something to be wrong? Perhaps you could call it intuition. 

Or perhaps it’s the lack of books strewn about the house. Or the initiation of tasks without a prompt. Or that night a living room was filled with the radiance of tiny dots along empty walls. Something strange is happening. 

“Alhaitham, what’s taking you so long in the kitchen?” You poke your head out from the kitchen doorway, sights honing in on your android currently scrutinizing the recipe book in his hands. 

Perhaps there’s a defect in the print, if the black ink isn’t contrasting enough with the beige paper, which time has faded, it does cause issues with optical character recognition. Maybe the past splatters of sauces and oils upon the aged book were too much of a hurdle.

“Chef Mao is a renowned cook, but his recipes are vague. He suggests a pinch of salt to enhance the flavor of this dish. I’ve calculated that Chef Mao has a 19.3 cm hand length which entails that his ‘pinches’ measure around 0.356 grams. However, he said to add Jueyun Chili oil until fragrant, I’m still processing the data I’ve collected on his olfactory system, the calculations will take around five minutes.” He turns back to the stove.

“Alhaitham.”

“Yes?”

“Please put down the book and get out of the kitchen.” A bold choice of words from you.

“Was my response unsatisfactory?” His teal eyes land on you. 

“It’s just that I’m hungry.” 

“This dish should be complete in around 90 minutes accounting for the other-”

“No,” you interrupt. 

He studies you for a while, accessing the situation and the unfinished dish still simmering on the stove. After a few breaths, he returns a response. 

“Shall I order delivery from Lambad’s Tavern?” His hand switches off the fire.

He conceded. The notoriously stubborn and fickle android conceded to your whims. There was definitely something wrong. You pace into the kitchen, getting close to observe his teal irises for any sign of possible flaws. 

“Alhaitham, you’ve been behaving strangely as of late, did you encounter something?” 

He returns your gaze, teal reflecting off your irises as you continue to study him, and him you. His silence only amounts to the deepening furrow between your brows as your assessment of his frame fails to identify any impairments. 

“Why have you been behaving like this?” You prompt again. 

“Have I neglected my responsibilities for so long that fulfilling them has become a cause for concern?” He finally responds. 

“Now’s not the time for jests,” you huff. 

“From what I’ve reviewed on human behavior, it’s not strange to want to care for the person I love.” A blunt statement. 

From the window, the moonlight peeks upon the strange phenomenon occurring. Two bodies remain motionless in a silent lull.

One pair of placate teal eyes and one pair of bewildered eyes too lost in each other to mind the witness intruding on this private moment. Words finally conquer in your brain, ending the quietude.

“Refrain from saying nonsensical words.” Your lips press together into a thin line. 

“Do you believe such a thing is beyond my capabilities?” 

You couldn’t respond, or more accurately, you simply didn’t know how to. A being without a heart, a being who lacked the necessary chemicals to create the cocktail known as emotions. How is it possible? 

“I have no heart, I’m aware. But I have a conscience.” He must’ve deduced the exact thoughts racing through your head. 

Your brows only furrow further as you wait for him to continue his explanation.

“Every person should have something that they believe in and hold on to from beginning to end. Otherwise, it's easy to succumb to the vicissitudes of life and find yourself being led astray.” Taking note of the glistening shine beginning to pool in your wide eyes. 

“And I believe that I love you.” His sincere gaze never leaves your form. 

Not a single sentence is able to form upon your tongue. An expression he couldn’t decipher upon your features. Perhaps his statement was too long-winded, an overly complicated explanation. Maybe a simpler one could convey his message better. 

You’re the first to break eye contact, choosing to watch the tiles on the floor over him. He remains firm in his stance, not faltering once as the seconds turn into minutes. Your shoulders rise as your lungs take a deep breath. 

“… say that again… please.” Words just barely above a whisper.

He could only bend to your whims. 

“I love you.”

Your head lifts up to face him, your hands hesitating momentarily as they cup his cool cheeks, fingers trembling. Something glimmering in your eyes as droplets escape your lashes.

This time, Alhaitham wipes them away before they could trail down your cheeks. 

You did it. All those long hours, all those reports and trials, all of these years sacrificed to research. You’ve created a complete human consciousness with your bare hands. One that understands sorrow, joy, and love.

You succeeded. 

However, in this moment as you peer into the teal eyes of your Magnum opus, as he reflects the endearment in your own. The notion of reporting this revolutionary milestone in the development of artificial intelligence never crossed your mind once. 

Instead, all you did in this moment was pull his face down closer. Closing the distance between the two of you as your lips felt his for the first time. Warm skin against a soft imitation, merging until a lukewarm temperature formed between their touch.

A gentle, yet longing connection of two lips. 

Only when your lungs protest for air did you pull away, hands still encompassing his face as he reveals his teal eyes back from behind closed lids. Eyes reflecting one another as a tender lull settles between you. This time, his whisper mingles with the soft intermission. 

“Was that a kiss?” 

Such an innocent question, one you couldn’t help but giggle at as you nod your head.

“Could you show me again?” His hands found purchase on your hips, beckoning you closer to his frame. 

You surrender to the call, pressing against him as your lips reconnect. A rhythm soon settled in place as they pressed into each other deeper. One that was interrupted once more by your lung's protest for oxygen. At a mere kiss, your mind ceased to remember how to breathe. 

“Again.” A baritone voice just above the hush of your pants.

And so your lips meet thrice, this time in an all-consuming embrace. A hesitant brush of a tongue against your lips, requesting access. Your hands move up to caress his soft locks as you grant it. Latching onto each other as the shroud consumed you both wholly.

A beautifully feverish delirium. The line in the sand that separated a person from a thing jumbled until the outline disappeared. A singularity, an amorous occurrence. 

He releases your lips, the lust in your eyes reflected in his own. Giving a moment for your mind to return to attention as his lips brush away the fading traces of wetness down your cheeks. 

“A kitchen isn’t a suitable setting for such an activity,” he whispers next to your ear. 

Baritone trailing a line of goosebumps up your neck and you nod in response, burying your face into the crook of his neck which fit you perfectly.

Slowly his hands travel down your hips, awaiting your confirmation for the next step just as you permitted it. In one fluid transition, his arm wraps around the back of your legs, effortlessly lifting you off the ground as your arms envelop his neck. 

Steady steps pad along a wooden hallway, the hinges of your bedroom singing their welcome as the two of you advance to a more suitable setting. Depositing you upon cool sheets, fabric wrinkling as your body settles in. The arms still wrapped around his neck pull him closer as this time your legs join in luring him closer to your warmth. 

It’s strange, is it possible for his lips to crave yours? The light of the moon reflected off the glossiness coating them. He delves back in as his body hovers over yours, unwilling to be apart from the softness it yearned for.

The soft flesh of your writhing body against his firm hands, feeling up your heated skin he slips under your shirt. Bunching up the fabric as he explores more of the new expanse of skin. A lovely whimper vibrates against his lips at his actions, spurring him to continue. 

Tracing over the outline of your bra, his fingers creep under. Kneading the plushness of your breast, feeling your nipple beginning to perk up against his ministration. An itch stretching from the pits of his desire, a curious craving to witness the sight concealed away.

Disjoining your lips as a string of saliva connects them, he pushes your shirt further up. All the while your hands grasp onto the edges of the fabric and push them back down. Bemusing his beryl eyes as they catch how the tips of your ears were aflame, a peculiar display of bashfulness. 

Well, a sight he’s witnessed on a few occasions. Such as when you’d leave the shower wrapped in a towel just to cross paths with him. A timidity that gradually faded away as you grew more confident in the privacy restrictions in place, ensuring that the secrets of this home remained in the confines of its walls.

So why is this shyness making its reappearance now?

“Are you uncomfortable anywhere?” His words ghost over the shell of your vulnerable ear. 

Causing you to jolt and pull down the edges of your shirt to cover the bottom of your loungewear shorts. 

“No, it’s just been a while…” Your sentence trails off, eyes still focusing everywhere but him. 

Ah, a mere string of words, yet they tempted something from the depths. An oppressive sentiment, one that made the grip upon your soft flesh grow firmer. He’s yet to have accessed the entirety of your figure, a view still denied to him by your taut shirt, but another entity had. 

There was a myriad of questions he could use to interrogate. However, as his teal gaze observe how your teeth lightly tug at the bottom of your plush lips in fidgety. Alhaitham devises a much kinder scheme. 

It’s fine, he can overwrite them with his touches. 

“What can I do to gain permission?” A question asked as a line of kisses press their way into your fervent skin, goosebumps following each one. 

Biting down to muffle the bashful moans into whimpers you burrow your face into the plushness of the pillow. Alhaitham continues to soothe kisses over the fabric of your shirt until they finally reach your quivering hands still stretching the hem.

His hand encloses one of yours, bringing it away from the fabric refuge to press his lips against your knuckle. An action that made you peak back at him, meeting a patient gaze awaiting you. 

Another soft press of his lips against your knuckle in silent request, at last, got you to release the hem, allowing him to push the fabric up to expose what was hidden from him. Permitting him to explore the sultry expanses with a wake of kisses, your hand finding reprieve entangling themselves with his. 

His free hand slipping behind your back, he unfastens the clasp of your bra with a slight tug, a relatively simple task when you learn how such a contraption works.

His grasp untangles from yours as he pushes the useless articles of clothing off your body, you raise your arms over your head to aid in the process.

He rewards you with another flurry of kisses in the valley of your breast as his large hands encase the softness of your breast. A motion that made your legs pull him closer. 

Your touches dance along his frame as well, unable to differentiate the difference between skin and a recreation. More whimpers leave your lips at his actions, prodding something in him to do more. To steal more of those sinful breaths from you, something in his coding thirsting for more.

Sliding his hands back down the curves of your body, he hooks his fingers over the rim of your shorts and panties pulling them down. Glass eyes zeroing in on the glistening thread that linked your panties and slit. Proof of arousal, your body awakening its cardinal impulses.

Could the signals transmitted through his system be classified in the same way?

He wants to investigate further. Moving his face lower to inspect the saturated folds that beckoned him. 

Only to be denied by the gates of your knees pressing together, as your body curls up in fortification. Denying him the privilege of satiating his curiosity is like denying a man water in an ocean of sand. Evaluating how your eyes were squeezed together in shame, he had foresaw this.

“Mmm, there seems to be an incongruity, do you want me to stop?” Large hands grasping at your plush thighs, but making no move to part them. 

Your head responds with a shake, but your knees still locked together. Your attention centering on him bashfully. 

“Then guide me, tell me how to please you,” he proposes hands soothing your tense legs.

Utilizing the skill he had accessed a few moments ago once more, gracing your skin with his lips awaiting your response. The tension in your legs loosens with each kiss, and gradually a fissure forms in the barrier of your defense, knees parting.

However, he doesn’t cross the threshold, no, he restrained himself from indulging too soon. Half-ladden eyes peering up to connect with yours. 

“Well, tell me. What do you want me to do?” 

A pout makes its appearance on your face, but what could you do? It is your responsibility to shepherd him since the beginning, to have him step over the line dividing an android and man. Best to take on your duty, no?

Parting your legs further, cheeks ablaze and eyes adverted as you allow his teal gaze to absorb the uninterrupted view of your dripping arousal. Your hands aiding as they thwart the urge of your bashful legs’s urge to preserve your dignity. 

“Please use your mouth and hands,” you prompt, face pressing deeper into one side of a pillow under his stare.

Alhaitham encroaches closer to your glistening folds, his large hands supporting each one of your thighs. Approaching the details of your honeypot in front of him, concentrating on the little nub which lures him closer. He presses a light peck against the nub as your body flinches. 

“Like this?” 

Plush lips pressed tightly, you respond with timid shakes. 

Returning back, his lips delving deeper this time, an audible pop when he pulls away from your taunted clit. Feeling the muscles tighten in your legs. 

“Like that?” Mirth leaked through his baritone words. 

Your head shakes with more vigor. 

“Then how about this?” This time his tongue takes action, dipping into the center of your honeypot before flicking up at your nub. 

You return a restrained moan, teal eyes picking up on the twitch of your folds. It seems that he’s uncovered the proper procedures. Peering up from between your legs at the harsh rises of your chest by rush breaths as your eyes remained sealed behind lashes, he decided to impart some mercy. Taking the initiative to shoulder a bit of your duty. 

Retracing his steps, his tongue repeating its previous motions of lapping up the nectar that slipped out from your folds. Always ending each strip up your slit with a flick to your sensitive nub.

Your hands abandon their post in favor of snaring themselves in his ashen trestles as your back begins to arch off the sheets. Thighs beginning to enclose around his head, yet it didn’t deter the vigor in his motions one bit. 

If anything, it spurred them on. The added pressure of your legs pulling him against your weeping folds assisted him in his quest. Testing which pattern made your body quiver, calculating the pace of his tongue's flicks made your hips buck up.

Alhaitham takes notice of how your greedy hole seems to be clenching down every time a tongue dipped in, you did request for his mouth and fingers after all. 

A finger begins to prod at your entrance, coating itself in the overflowing slick as it traces the puckering entry. Your whines increase in volume as your greed escalates, legs locking around him. Thus, he yields to your neediness, filling your lonely walls with the company of his finger.

Thrusting it in time with his licks as he rubs against the slick muscles. Your back arched off the bed, your fingers grounding themselves in the tangles of his hair as if trying to hold on to a shred of reason. 

His interest has been greatly piqued, he wanted to see what it would look like. He wants to see what your expression looks like when you fall into the depths of debauchery. You’d permit him such privileges right? After all, curiosity is what defines the human spirit. 

A second finger soon joins in, its thickness stretching and prepping your walls, cultivating your arousal into a rapacious hunger.

Articulate tongue now focused on abusing your clit in the swipes of sweet torture, lips encasing around it to provide some suction. Fingers honing in on relocating the weakness deep within you which made your voice peak and tremble.  

He could hear the harshness of your panting breath between each escalating moan, how your walls squeezed and sucked his fingers deeper. Teal gaze never once ceased their evaluation of your face. Making sure to appraise each lewd detail of your impending ecstasy. 

It’s impossible to stand at the apex of euphoria forever, no, for gravity will always pull you back down. A pivotal moment in time as the forces tugged down at you as you fell, losing your shame and sanity along the way.

A fall from grace which etches itself in the roll of your eye and vulgar expression, caused by the tempest of pleasure seeps into every fiber of your being as you plummeted down into the ocean of rapture. 

The fingers intertwined in his hair pulling his face flushed against your pulsing cunt. Even with your mind fractured by orgasmic bliss your body still reacts to each lap of his tongue as he manages the slick aftermath. Fingers stroking your sweet spot through each contraction of your walls. 

“Nng!” A feeble push against his ashen locks, your abused clit crying for a moment of reprieve. 

Oh? It seems your consciousness returned faster than he expected. With a resounding pop, he grants your overstimulated nerves a moment to recover. Allowing the traces of your nectar to dribble down his chin. Taking this moment to verify the effectiveness of his scheme.

The air dense with the fragrance of lust, lips red from the abuse of your teeth, mouth agape as your lungs gasp tongue almost lulling out. 

An absolutely debauched face, a sight which brought the corners of his lips to curl. 

Counting the beads of sweat that lingered on your skin, his rationale urged him to swipe them off to prevent a chill from plaguing you. Withdrawing away from your form he plans his destination to the bath to retrieve a towel, only for a smaller hand to snag him in its hold. 

Alhaitham turns back to face you, awaiting your next prompt. However, your bitten lips couldn’t muster up the courage to utter the plea it so desperately wanted. Thus, your eyes connect with his, praying that a slow blink could convey the invocation your voice couldn’t. 

Standing there as a few breaths pass, the teal glow of his irises indicates his deduction of what your eyes conveyed. Ah yes, the passionate entanglement experience just a moment before could be classified as ‘foreplay’. The appetizer to the main event.

So your appetite has yet to be satiated, evident from how your thighs pressed against each other in an attempt to quell the ache. How could he leave a task undone? 

“Show me what you desire,” he instructs. 

Hesitantly, your hands encroach closer to the rim of his slacks. Your every action observed by him. Resting your palms against the outline of a zipper, you glance up to seek confirmation, he grants it.

You undo the button at the top before pulling the zipper down. Allowing for you to shimmy his briefs and slacks down to the floor. Revealing to the world, with the moon as your witness, every intricate detail placed into his engineered body. 

It felt so foreign in your hands. Encircling your fingers around his girth, tracing over the bumps of each vein. Amid your admiration, his body overtook yours. Pinning you back against the damp sheets. It seems you were very interested in this feature of his, perhaps it was the cure for the yearning between your writhing legs. 

Your legs splayed to either side of his hips, a clear path to your greed. His hand spreads your collected slick along his length. Its bulbous tip presses against your quivering entrance. Meeting your half-lidden eyes, he awaits your permission. Thus, you captured his lips into another kiss, just as the tip breaches the threshold of your entrance.

Finally giving your aching walls the delicious stretch it craved. A moan resonates between connected lips, your eyes beginning to roll back as he sinks deeper and deeper, obscene squelches following each inch. 

Thick tip pressed up against the deepest parts of you as he bottoms out, your hands finding refuge along his back. Breaking the lock of your lips, Alhaitham lifts cants his head up to take in the scene under him.

Hovering over your panting form, his body caging you against the wrinkled fabric, feeling your unseemly breaths against his skin. A teal glow reflected in the lust-hazed pools of your eyes.

He understands now, why so many poets lost their minds, trying their whole lives to find the words to chronicle the sight laid out before him along messy sheets. 

Under his tense study, your fingers lightly claw at the smooth expanse of his back. A soundless prayer to quell the famine, your gummy walls coaxing around his cock with its embrace. 

“Haitham,” you mewl. 

Not even the greatest saint could deny your request, he wagers they’d gladly walk through the gates of damnation just for a morsel of you. 

Rolling his hips back, he drags his girth along the walls of your greed ensuring that they feel the outline of every vein. Feeling the cool air brush against the slick dripping off his length, only the bulbous tip remained in the clutches of your cunt.

A muffled whine of protest from you interrupted as he sunk back in, accompanied by a filthy squelch. 

Robust hands encompass the edges of your waist, he repeats the roll of his hips. Feeling the tightening clutches of your core, croons falling off your tongue with each toing and froing.

What symphonies could he draw from those agape lips of yours?

He wants to witness the sinful hymns of your voice as you are overtaken by the throes of pleasure. Perhaps he should conduct an experiment of his own. Through the raunchy air, a clap pierces the leaden veil, your plush hips pressed flush against his anchored ones, a thrust that seared your nerves and curled your toes. 

“Ah!” Moan ripped from your throat. 

Yes, that’s the amplitude he wants to discern with his ears.

Continue to sing in that octave. It’s as if pulled by the reins of sin, he finds himself experiencing hunger for the first time, fixating on tearing more of those chants from you. He drew back his hips then forced them back in deeper. A wail followed each rake of his cock, walls accenting each thrust with fluttering clenches. Mewls and whines resonated through the room as his firm grip didn’t slacken with each rock of the bed. 

Pace escalating and remorseless, skin clashing against skin, the heat of your writhing body scorching him. But he won’t relent, not until he��s taken what he wanted. Driving you deeper into the creaking mattress, thrusting and filling each crevice of your core. Your soft breast pinned against his solid frame. 

Your face pressed into the crook of his neck, legs imprisoned within the confines of his bruising grasp, toes painfully arched in an attempt to distribute the burn of the maddening euphoria firing through each nerve. The moans of his name like a prayer of salvation, a chant for every punishing strike against your deepest weakness. Your fingers now clawing against his durable back for a foothold for your fleeing sanity. You feared that this time, it might not return to you. 

Oddly, a voice from the rearmost corner of your mind whispered for you to relinquish it. Trade in rationale, sensibility, and morals for absolute ecstasy. Your teeth had already sunk into the apple, its juices dribbling down the corners of your mouth. Why not swallow it down? Get drunk off the wet claps of skin, the grind of his muscular torso against your stimulated clit, the slams of his girthy cock and thick tip. Why deny yourself from the euphoria robbed from you for so long?

So you concede to its beckoning, swallowing down the last wisp of sanity until it drowned in the maddening abuse of your sweet spot from his pistoning hips. Granting you entry to true pleasure as the knot in your core unravels. Backing arching off the mattress, mending the fibers of your being impossibly close to his. Head thrown back against a ruffled pillow as a long shameless wail erupts from your trembling lips. Lost in the tides of rapture. 

Alhaitham’s body stills as his ears digest the beautiful aria of your undoing. Feeling your slick and warm walls contract all around his cock. Milking him for every last speck of gratification he could offer you. 

A moment couldn’t be classified as a simple impulse for procreation. No, he believed it went beyond the lust hanging in the air. An indescribable urge to mend your bodies as close as possible, to becoming wholly one with one another. The thump of your heartbeat against the whir of a motor as they merge into a mantra. 

Is this why humans crave physical intimacy? 

Watching your loose face tremor and your teary eyes roll back. A painting no muse besides you could ever inspire. Leaning down, his lips brush away the glistening trails down your supple cheeks. Coaxing you through the throes of your orgasmic shudders. Until the light of consciousness returns to your half-lidden eyes. 

The limitations of the human body expose themselves in the limpness of your limbs, unable muscles unable to budge besides the twitching aftershocks of bliss. Unable to fight against the weight of your eyelids for the first time in a while. You sink into the lull of slumber. 

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

Somewhere amid the driftless darkness a sensation brushes against your skin. Causing your lashes to pry open just ever so slightly, blurry shapes merging gradually to form the outline of a man. One who’s tendering wiping a soft towel over the sweat drops littering your skin. The soft glow of his emerald gem illuminated the devotion of his crafted face. You wonder where he learned about such practices after the rite of sex. Did he pull it from the Akasha? The internet? Or maybe from a book hidden along the shelves of a private library. 

You couldn’t stifle the giggle roused from your musing. Alerting him as his hands halt. 

“Did I wake you?” Baritone voice hushed. 

Face still pressed into a pillow you shake your head, hair messy and a smile spreading across your soft features. 

“Just musing to myself where you learned such things,” you giggle. 

“This is typical behavior of lovers from my understanding.” Teal gaze observed the widening of your eyes which reflected him. 

Perhaps he made too great of an assumption. Back in the margins of a kitchen, it was only his words. It’s best to get clarification now. 

“Are we lovers?” He peers into your irises. 

The glow of the gem embedded in his chest spreads its gentle radiance over two figures through the unbuttoned window of his wrinkled button-down. Carving the shape of you and him from the shadows of the silent room. Illuminating how your wide eyes crinkle up with adoration. Fighting against the fatigue of your limbs, you lean up to press your lips against the brilliance of his gem. After the amorous kiss ended, you proceeded to lean your forehead against his. 

“You’re my lover, Alhaitham.” Your whisper ghosts over his face. 

“Understood.” His foreheads pressing against yours as he accepts his new sentience. 

The shape of your delicate fingers fitting into the space between his, intertwining as the moonlight reflects off gold and emerald. 

The sky shrouds itself in its evening gown of deep navy and luminous glimmers, all the while a bashful moon covers herself away. Perhaps she hid herself away after she witnessed a sinful scene through a gap in the curtains. A private moment heavy with passion in the air like tender caresses. 

“W-wait!” Stammering words just barely leaving your lips before another moan. 

Alhaitham pulls his tongue away as he tilts his face to peer up from between your thighs, a trail of slickness connecting his lips and your pussy. The haze of your breathless expression reflected in teal irises. 

“I-it’s t-too ah!-” A moan interrupts your protests as your head jolts back, his thumb continuing to circle your swollen clit. 

“Much? I know you can take more,” he states before returning his lips to your dripping folds, lapping up each trickle. 

He’s analyzed your body, its curves and cervices, each clench of your slick walls, and the pattern of your gasps. Skilled fingers learning the exact rhythm which made your legs tense and toes curl. Diligent tongue knowing where to tease to run shivers up your spine. 

“B-but I’ve already c-came!” Your fingers tangle themselves into his tousled locks, a feeble attempt at pushing back the maddening flicks of his tongue and cruel strokes of his thumb that shot up your fried nerves. Report long forgotten under the haze of lust and lewd slurps imbuing the room. 

And you can come again. Alhaitham has long picked up on the discrepancy between the words which fell from the same lips as those lewd sounds. Lips who couldn’t be as honest as your heaving and trembling body. Whining and writhing in his firm hold that it’s too much, yet your fingers entangle themselves deep in silver tresses pulling his impatient tongue deeper between your folds. 

From the shivers racking through your trembling thighs, he anticipates another orgasm. However, the unholy cries have ceased. Intent eyes glancing up to uncover the causal factor, those naughty plush lips of yours pressing themselves shut. Crueling sealing away those ethereal harmonies from him. 

Alas, just a small inconvenience doesn’t deter him. If those lips were the only barrier barring him from the privilege of hearing his deserved moans, then he’d simply make them crumble. Replacing his thumb with his lips, Alhaitham suckles on the swollen nub as your body jerks up.

Grip imprinting his fingers into your skin as they stop your pitiful attempts at locking out from heaven. The heaving of your chest jostling around your perked breast as they meet the cool night air. 

His tongue teases and rolls your overstimulated clit around as his lips imprison it, a sweet torture. Your thrashes unable to prevent your head from going under the depths of pleasure. Thighs compressing around his face as they grow taut, hips bucking themselves against his relentless mouth, back lifting off the mattress as your final defenses crumble along with your sanity. 

 Limpness seeps into your now heavy limbs as your body returns to the mattress, but your eyes haven’t quite returned from seeing the back of your head. Still in the throes of cloud nine as his diligent tongue collects all your leaking nectar. The aftershocks of your orgasm force gasps and whimpers from your quivering lips. 

To comfort your abused clit he places a tender kiss against it, a flinch in your hip resulting from the gesture. Alhaitham pulls away, eyes scanning the repercussions of his operation. Your chest steadily rises and falls as panting lungs find air again.

The rush of dopamine, endorphins, and oxytocin gradually disappears behind your drooping eyelids. Lashes slowly fluttering closed. 

Glancing at the numbers displayed on a nearby clock, Alhaitham deems tonight a success as well. While the primary purpose of intercourse might be for reproduction, sex has additional benefits. One of them being an orgasm’s ability to decrease stress, resulting in the production of more melatonin. The chemical that’s making you burrow further in your pillow. A tactic he’s learned to exploit these past months. Well, he’s your lover now, it’s within his authorization to do such. 

Carefully he slides your panties back up your legs, securing them on your hips as he trails a few touches along your soft skin. Following it up by pulling the covers over your frame, smoothing out a few wrinkles as your chest steadily moves up and down. 

Just as he steps one foot away from the bed, a warmth encircles his wrist. 

“Aren’t you coming to bed too?” 

An artificial body needs no downtime under soft covers. Plush pillows and sheets serve no purpose to him. Yet, it’s a simple request. How could he reject it when it came from your pouting lips? 

“In a moment, I need to return to my port first.” 

The throes of slumber’s hold creeping upon you as your lashes fight to flutter open. With a soft hum, you release your hold.

His battery percentage was fine, but it was just for system maintenance. It’s strange how unfamiliar a room can feel after spending his nights by your side. Staring at the glass surface of his charging port, he wonders, in the future will there be a way for him to not leave your side even for a moment? 

His dilemma remains. He’s got all the characteristics of a human. He’s developed a consciousness, he’s developed empathy, he’s developed love. Is his engineer body the only thing which stood in his way of obtaining humanity?

Is it possible for him to grasp onto humanity with his own mechanical fingers? A soft thud returns him to reality. Observant eyes caught the book that his foot had knocked into. Its worn cover has been lying abandoned on the floor ever since he took it from a dusty room. 

Ah, it seems like he’s forgotten a task. Realistically, it won’t make a difference whether the book settles on a shelf tonight or in the morning. However, he never got a chance to read the journal’s contents. Curiosity being his rationale for performing a chore so late at night. 

Flipping through the aged parchment, his eyes scan through each neatly written paragraph. Nothing more than a simple collection of ramblings and theoretical reflections typical of a journal.

Yet, something was poking the back of his consciousness, like the warning rattle of a locked door. Beseeching that it remains sealed. His eyes move to the next sentence regardless.

To ignore the pleas of safety to venture closer to the radiance of a star. Isn’t that what it means to be human? Is this what he must do to become one?

To achieve this impossible task, it sounds like you'll need to fool your own heart first. Although it may feel like a trick, self-encouragement may be the most important tool we have.

Alhaitham scans the paragraph again as he contemplates the message neatly written. Something unpleasant roused in his chest, as if those written words had encroached too close to his motor. The urge to frown tugs on his lips.

Not wanting to end the night with a bitter taste just at the edge of his tongue, he flips to another page. Covering that vexatious sentence behind a fresh sheet of aged parchment. 

One must act on his own will and deal with anything that appears harmful in his eyes.

It’s quite straightforward advice, humans and androids alike would understand. Yet that strange inkling remained, continuing to brew somewhere from within. A phenomenon he couldn’t pinpoint. Thus, he turns the page yet again. 

Every person should have something that they believe in and hold on to from beginning to end. Otherwise, it's easy to succumb to the vicissitudes of life and find yourself being led astray.

He recognizes those words, they’re words he’s recited before you one pivotal sometime ago. Why were they scrawled in some forgotten journal? It seems that he’s identified the name of this phenomenon brewing within him: deja vu. 

Yet, his question only remains half-answered. Why were his words here? Who penned them down? The rapid flicks of paper resound off the blank walls as he scrutinizes each sentence, each paragraph, each syntax until he reaches the back cover of the aged journal. Question still remaining half answered.

Who was the author of his words? 

His finger runs into a lump along the surface of the back cover, examining it closer, something was folded away just behind a parchment pocket. Soon a loose scrap of paper was felt along his fingertips, a folded-up post-it note of an emerald hue. Unraveling it just slightly, his eyes move along the familiar handwriting. 

To the person who’s always meddling through my notes, did my written thoughts entertain you? Dear w-

The emerald scrap crumples in his hold. Deformed paper returns to its place before he snaps the covers closed. There’s no purpose in analyzing its contents, after all, they’re already programmed into him.

It was just now in this moment that Alhaitham had solved the dilemma he was assigned since the moment he awoke in that lab. He’s not a human, he’ll never be a human, he’s an abomination. 

In the next moment, he found himself looming over the origin of his dilemma. Artificial teal glow honing in upon the steady breaths from the genesis of abomination. Standing over you as you were cradled in the comfort of slumber and soft sheets. 

A pair of taut hands make their way to encircle your frangible neck. It wouldn’t take much, just a mere second to terminate the great sinner who defied mortality, the one who violated the terms of finality and ordinance of the gods.

So this is what you choose to do with the capacity of science and progress in your hands. 

Was he just a toy for you? Something to fill the lull of this house for you? Just an experiment for you, but everything to him. 

His fingers press into your warm skin, breaths uninterrupted as you remain within the blessing of a dream. Oblivious to the nightmare you’ve created. Or perhaps you were always aware, but choose to reflect back to him the manufactured image of him in those guiltless irises of yours.

Oh, what should he do with the monster sleeping so soundly under him? 

His fingers refused to budge, hands disobeying the rationale which commanded them. His grip goes slack, limp for they couldn’t conclude their obligation. They couldn’t, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. 

It’s not a protocol, nor a restriction coded into him. No, for the laws of morality, this land, and heaven would’ve called for him to be an executioner. To charge the transgressor with the judgment they deserved. But, he couldn’t.

Every fiber of his counterfeit body refused to take the sword. The chains which bind his hands were much mightier than the commandments of gods, the restraints of love. 

Thus, he’s nothing more than a prisoner in its hold. Bending to its whims, what else could he do? Removing his hands from your form as you continue to soundly sigh in the embrace of slumber. All he could do was lie down on a soft mattress and stare at the shameless sinner beside him.

A foolishly beloved monster. 

Slow steps pad through the quiet halls, floor boards singing a hymn with your leisurely steps. Approaching the end of the hall where the humble library resides, the oak doorway finally framed him in clear view. 

“There you are, Alhaitham.” You can’t help but sigh as your features soften. 

He stood there with his starlight locks in the morning glow of a brilliant sun amongst the collection of books in the library. Just as he always has been. 

Lifting his head away from the pages of the novel in his hand, he acknowledges your presence. He’s been heading here more often recently, right from the moment he leaves his side of the bed. 

“Good morning,” he recites, steadfast eyes remaining unreadable. 

Well, you suppose obtaining the title of a lover wouldn’t just overwrite the capriciousness of his mind. It’s just in his nature to be this way. This enigmatic lover of yours. Turning your attention to the cover that’s captured his focus. 

“Frankenstein?” Your brow quirks up. 

“Yes, the 1818 edition.” He closes the cover.

“Mmm, your interest seems quite piqued by that novel.” You wonder if that was the cause behind his frequent bouts of silent contemplation throughout the day. 

“I suppose it’s because I’m still deciphering the intentions of this story.” 

“That’s it?” A furrow now in your brows, a simple book has gotten the pinnacle of scientific progress stumped?

“Care to elaborate for me?” He turns toward you as your steps approach closer. 

Handing over the worn object to your outstretched hand, you analyze each faded corner of the cover. Mind recalling the recollections of the acclaimed revolutionary piece of science fiction. Formulating your answer, you share your conclusions with him.

“The story has several themes, but the central principle is quite defined. To quote a few words from another, scientific progress makes moral progress a necessity; for man’s power is increased, the checks that restrain him from abusing it must be strengthened.”

You reconnect your gaze with him, wondering if your explanation was satisfactory enough. Glancing down between the worn cover and your awaiting eyes, Alhaitham straightens his posture. 

“So you knew the moral of this story.” A glint in his glass eyes. 

“Well, I’ve read this book before,” you sigh at his inquest. 

“Then why didn’t you learn from it?” 

At that moment, the proud sun shielded itself away behind a cloak of clouds. Plunging the quiet library into a chill. How strange, why do you feel cold when a brilliant star of your creation stands right next to you?

“Alhaitham, you’re acting strange.” You take a step back as his scrutinizing gaze follows. Unaware of the crumbling edge approaching. 

“How much longer will you continue to deceive yourself, wife?” 

And that was it. The foundations of this mirage gave away under you, plunging you with much velocity into the depths of an unforgiving ocean. Tides that waited patiently to drag you down under.

Do you remember what happened that day? Do you really remember? The truth floods your being, engulfing every chasm of your mind. 

–----

“Did you jump at the opportunity of a trip to avoid mopping the floors?” You glared up at your husband. 

“My, how low do you think of me?” He glanced down, a wisp of mirth evident on his lips. 

“Well, instead of doing chores, you’d be chaperoning your in-laws around Fontaine. A Poor trade-off in my opinion, dear husband.” A hand firmly placed on your hip in a defiant stance as the murmur of the crowded airport moved around your figures. An ever so mocking tone toward the end.

“A fair assumption, dear wife. However, I’ve taken the initiative to book a tour for your parents, thus they won’t need my assistance. I’ll be free to browse some of the latest ruins and research from the Institute in the meantime.” The ghost of a smirk grew ever so obvious with each word, mirroring your emphasis of titles.

Ah, this was your loss. It seems that your husband had it all planned out as usual when he offered to take your spot on the plane. The perfect excuse to use up some paid time off, while also scoring a trip to satisfy his own whims. 

Your shoulders deflating in defeat as a deep sigh leaves you. You rest your head against his chest, the crowds moving around you in the bustling airport.

A private microcosm of him and you as he stands still, shielding you from the push and hustle of travelers trying to reach their terminal in time with his robust frame.

A bright clink of two rings pressed against each other lost in the noise.

“Why can’t you just stay?” You whispered into his shirt. 

“How strange, the woman who married me to secure a home and mortgage wants me to stay now.” 

You huffed into his in exasperation at him bringing up the origins of your union, an atypical start of a marriage.

His chest moved with a sigh, larger fingers intertwined with yours. The spaces fitted together, as he held them in his tender hold. 

“They can’t refund it. If I take your seat and recompensate them, your parents aren’t likely to hold this matter over your head.” His deep voice expounded. 

All you did was sigh, because he was right. Of course, he was. A sour taste on your tongue as you recall the interaction with your parents just a moment ago before you ran into the comfort of your husband. 

“Besides, it’d be refreshing for me to scribble down some travel logs, it'd be a shame if my wife runs out of material to snoop through.” 

“I just like looking at your handwriting,” you tutted, hiding your pout as you turned your face away. 

The same excuse you used whenever you copied off his notes in a lecture hall and when your outstretched hand asked for them over a study table.

A silly habit of yours, perhaps in your mind it made sense. If you could read the words of a genius, then maybe you could learn to be like one. 

“Of course, of course.” A smirk evident in his voice. 

You refused to meet his gaze, cheeks a bit heated from this habit of yours being exposed. You thought you were always careful with returning his journal back where he placed it. Averting your eyes to the bright screens displaying departing flights. A few minutes left before the announcement comes. Your grasp on his hand tightened. 

His thumb soothes your skin, leaning down closer to you. 

“Besides its advanced technology, Fontaine is also famous for its toymakers. I should pick a few up for our future child, no?” 

Blinking you as you glance back up at him. His teal irises reflect you as his expression softens just as yours did.

A room hidden away from the prying eye of nosy parents, its walls decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars. An assortment of items bought in advance for a child in the future. Stemming from whispers while recovering amongst dampen sheets in a room heavy with passion. 

Talks of the future, once this troublesome Ph.D. is finished and your position in a lab secured, a discussion of whether a child would inherit more of his traits or yours.

Planned for the future, of course, now's just a bit too busy. However, it didn’t stop you from taking the initiative to furnish a spare room. A chaotic collection of cosmic influences along with an assortment of books meshing together to create an adoring space. 

But the soft smile on your lips was still tense. Teal eyes took note of that, pulling you closer amidst this microcosm, a moment so subtle it went unnoticed by the attention of passer-byers. 

“It’ll just be for a week,” his voice resonated in his chest. “Then I’ll come back and build that bassinet as my wife wishes.” 

Finally, the glimmer he yearned to see returned to your eyes. 

“You better, the box has been sitting unopened for a week now,” you huff with a smile. 

He only hummed in acknowledgment as the ring of a loudspeaker resounded through the chatter. Announcing the final call for passengers boarding the flight to the Nation of Hydro. Casting a glance toward the terminal, he gave your hand one more squeeze before they reluctantly untangled from one another. 

“You should get going now.” Your eyes reflect him. 

He hums one last time, turning in the direction of the terminal where your parents were. Just before his tall figure was lost in the sea of passing bodies, your lips couldn’t keep themselves pressed together any longer. 

“Haitham!” You called out. 

The fluorescent lights reflected off his starlight hair as he turned back around. Connect teal eyes with yours. But not another word left your lips, no they’d simply be drowned out in the clammer of strangers. Besides, it’s just too public to say such words aloud. 

Thus, you slowly close your eyes, opening them back up just as steadily with the soft curl of your lips. A motion he reciprocated with a slow blink of his own, a hint of a smile on his stoic lips. A wordless gesture kept a secret between only the two of you, a silent ‘I love you’. It was all you needed to convey this message to each other. 

He continued on his path to the terminal as you stood amongst the crowd, watching him fade into the distance. 

–----

So how did that moment turn into this? How did a trip that was supposed to only be a week turn into a news report? How did well wishes for a safe trip turn into coworkers and friends approaching you with nothing but sympathy in their words? Those vile, pitied stares directed toward your rigid frame. 

You should’ve been the one on that plane.

Only about 1 in about 11 million. A 0.00001% chance, a nonzero chance.

Plans no matter how intricate or detailed, their success all hang on a single thread, one factor unable to be cultivated by human hands: Luck. 

Oh how cruel they are, those capricious hands of gods. Not even the leniency of returning to a lonely planet the corpses of their stars. Traces of a beloved star left to sink and disappear in a cold, salty grave. Never to return to the surface. 

You and Alhaitham were two simple dots in this world, so why did they target you two? Why steal him from you with their cruel hands? Why steal him and leave you abandoned with nothing but the memory of the warm starlight? 

You had so…so much love left inside you. But it went stagnant. Sitting there rotting until it poisoned you, throwing you into feverish delirium. If the gods abandoned you, then you resolved to abandon them right back. 

You’ll bring back your star, you’ll defy the edicts of the gods with your bare hands. You’ll sin the same way a god does. 

“Casting aside your morals, you allowed the dead to walk again through a sham imitation, congratulations. ” His voice matched one which could only come from an engineered throat. 

This was a fool's errand.

For how could a mere human ever be arrogant enough to believe they could best the gods? This was the hindsight you lacked. Perhaps what’s separated you from the gifted and blessed geniuses? Something geniuses knew but you couldn’t see.

The accursed doctorate on the wall meant nothing, you were nothing but a mad fool. 

Perhaps, if you were a genius, a true and born genius, you’d know what to do. You’d know how to mend this dilemma. You’d know what to do instead of letting your vision be blurred by imprudent tears as your throat could only choke out,

“I’m sorry.” Words you knew couldn’t turn back the hands of a clock which only knew how to tick forward.

“But now what?” Deep voice unmoved by your wasted words. 

You didn’t dare meet his stare, for you feared you’d catch a glimpse of the bitterness behind them as he cursed you deep down in the whir of his motor. You could only stay silent as tears ignited in your eyes, waiting for him to continue with his damnation. 

“In a climate like Sumeru’s, it would take approximately 25 years or so for a body to fully decompose, bones reduced to nothing but nutrients for the soil. Silicone alone takes 500 years, a metal frame could take another 500.” He knows now that he’s not a human, he was never meant to be.

He’s a crude replacement. An abomination who’ll remain until the day the night sky flickers out. 

“You brought him back, only to condemn him to eventual loneliness. Only to curse ‘me’ to live the next aeons without you”

An irresponsible and shameless villain who disregarded consequences until those consequences came to collect their dues. It’s time that you faced your punishment.

A hand cups around your stiff face, gradually turning your head until you see your reflection along glass irises.

“How will you atone for your sins now? How will you take responsibility for making me fall in love with you?… my very own Dr. Frankenstein.” His voice restrained. 

Yes, a story you’ve read before. A lesson unfolded out in front of you, and yet you somehow forgot. Or perhaps, you simply averted your eyes from the moral of the story while simultaneously committing the same transgression. Did you think yourself better than the fictional lunatic? 

The atrocity of giving life, only to eventually abandon it, leaving it to watch the stars burn out in a cage of harsh fluorescent lights and white lab coats. 

The millions of mora poured into his development, the materials which construct his form, and the proprietary technology which gives him thought. Did you believe even for a moment that the prideful Fontainian Research Institute and the arrogant Kshahrewar Darshan would simply hand over such an investment?

To allow their expenditure to follow you to eternity?

You couldn’t live without him, but now he’ll have to live without you.

Oh, what shall you do now? Oh, what can you do now? Did you even know where to begin? How did the story of Frankenstein end? How would she have written the ending of this scene?

When human rational meets its limits, when its capacity isn’t enough to compute all possible prospects. Humans look towards something that could, technological advancements made to further humanity. 

“W-what do I do now?” You prompt, no, you beg. 

Watching the rivulets roll down your cheeks, leaving a path of glimmering desperation, he ponders to himself:

When you first proposed this project to the Akademiya and Institute, when you detailed the specifications of his body and face, were they aware of your true intentions?

Rather than this being an experiment to see if an android could cross the threshold of humanity. Maybe those researchers were curious to see how far one could fall in the paroxysm of grief. 

You became the perfect test subject to observe.

But now that the curtains were pulled back, what shall you do about the aftermath? There was never a precedent for a transgression of this scale. No holy commandment ever details a rightful punishment for this sin. No historical data he could infer from. 

“I don’t know,” he answers you truthfully. 

It’s just an untold void like the vacuums of space. No results generated in his mind, leaving the both of you suspended in oblivion. Maybe that was the punishment in itself, stuck in the purgatory of the unknown. Perhaps this was the punishment bestowed upon a foolish sinner. 

Upon hearing your sentencing, your knees begin to buckle under the weight of the judgment from above. Resigned grasp clinging to his hand still cradling your face, his engineered frame not budging in the slightest. Voice staggered as only pitiful and broken apologies resonate in a vacant house. 

All he could do was wipe those scorching droplets off your cheeks as they seared his skin. Was this feature also programmed into him by your hands? If so, then he muses to himself:

Did the hands who penned down those words also revert into nothing more than a pathetic fool at the mere sight of your tears? Did his chest also grow heavier with each choked sob that left you?

Perhaps the chains which bind his hands tethered yours just the same. A pair of foolish sinners. 

Thus, he’s resolved himself to be thrown into the unmerciful clutches of this untold purgatory right alongside you. Even if he’s the only one to remain in the end. 

To be human is to be unthignkably foolish after all. As long as he could still hold onto a wisp of you for the inevitable aeons.  

It’s fine.

Fin~

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

[greentrickster]

SVSSS AU set post-canon, the peak lords are having a meeting, business as usual, right up until a heavenly official manifests smack dab in the middle of it. Said official takes one look around, spots Shang Qinghua, and basically falls into a perfect kowtow in front of him while being a level of distraughtly sticky that would make Luo Binghe proud.

"Your excellency, we know you wanted to oversee this section of history, we know it's your holiday, but we need you back, please, no one can figure out your filing system-!!!"

There is an absolutely reasonable amount of pandemonium from ten of the remaining peak lords, Shen Yuan is feigning indifference while also paying razor-edged attention because 'dammit, Airplane, what did you do now', and Shang Qinghua is desperately trying to figure out how to get this god to stop crying and hugging his ankles while babbling about paperwork. Once everyone has calmed down enough, it's revealed that Shang Qinghua, on top of being Shang Qinghua, really is the creator-god of this world and his current human incarnation is the equivalent of a sabbatical to watch some really interesting current events.

Now, the thing is? Airplane is still very much Airplane, all that's true. The part where it gets complicated is that he really is also this world's creator-god, divine powers and all, and he arrived much earlier than the 40+ years ago he thought he had. He has, in fact, been here for most of the world's history, managing the logistics of things to keep them running relatively smoothly the whole time. Except then he realized, "Hey, we're getting close to the era of the Plot, I wanna see that and maybe fix it some!" So he sealed his own memories from between his death and his arrival in this world and incarnated himself as Shang Qinghua specifically so he'd get a chance to meet his favorite character.

The real kicker is, the System? Yeah, there's a reason it has such a modern-tech interface and sounds so Google translate and stuff.

Because Airplane made that, too. Primarily because, while it's been awhile and he doesn't fully remember how he was as a human, he does remember his tendencies to try and wriggle out of stuff, and even now he prefers a comfy life with a not unreasonable amount of delegation, so he decided to give himself a little something to keep himself on-task.

He did not mean to make the damn thing so mean, that was an oops on his part.

While Airplane is reeling with all the headache that is gaining a few thousand extra years of memories while still remaining primarily himself, one of the peak lords asks if the official is certain they have the right person.

They get a derisive sneer for their efforts. "Of course it's his excellency, you think a normal man could run the logistics for a great sect, the Northern realm, and a portion of the Demon Emperor's court, even without having a writing career and social life on the side? Besides, he's the only one we've found who takes notes in his excellency's secret language." And they point dramatically to where Airplane's scribbled some pinyin in the margins of his paperwork.

Airplane can feel Cumcumber-bro's judgement from across the room. On the plus side, his memories of being a god included how to power down the System, so that's something at least, right?

Right?

...

...he needs to go stick his face in his king's chest and cry for a little, he can just feel his workload increasing...

[mrsshabana]

Modern/after all odds Gyutaro definitely did it on the motorcycle despite the risk in being a secluded alleyway or smth since someone was needy and impatient. Gyutaro would have it on or even rev it up sitting backwards while having y/n ride him. The hypersexual thoughts have lead me to a wild imagination once again 😞 Also can I be the 🍰 anon if its not already claimed? ^^

𝐀𝐀�� 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ⋆ 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐲𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱

꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, 18+ MDNI, Against All Odds au, public sex, vaginal sex, creampie (if you aren't familiar with my Against All Odds fic, it's an au where demons live amongst humans in a modern au. And all of the kny demons go to university with reader.) ꒦꒷‧₊ Note I decided to write about AAO Gyutaro since I really miss writing that au! And of course, you can be the 🍰 anon if you'd like. Sorry for answering this so late btw. I've been working on other things lately but I was in the mood to write something quick today so I hope you all enjoy it. ♡

"That fucking student council meeting took so long, what the hell were you guys talking about anyways?" Gyutaro growls as he parks his bike behind the science building.

"Douma couldn't decide what color banners we needed for the festival this weekend," you giggle, watching your boyfriend's face contort in annoyance.

"Idiot," he rolls his eyes and turns off his bike, "Making me wait so damn long..."

You look around, confused as to why he is stopping behind the science building on campus. "Um Gyu, why are you stopping here?"

He flips around so he can face you and begins to unbutton his pants, "Cuz I'm gonna fuck you."

'WHAT!?" You yelp, and Gyutaro immediately covers your mouth with his hand.

"Shut it!" he snarls, "I've been so horny all goddamn day ever since you put on that stupid skirt this morning. And now since you made me wait so long, I don't have any other choice but to fuck you right here."

He smirks and pulls his pants down just enough for his cock to spring free, already incredibly hard. The large vein that runs down the side of it already popping out, that's how you know he's been hard for quite a while.

"B-Babe I-," you start but he cuts you off.

"Shh, it's ok. The sun's already gone down so no one will see us. I promise..."

He bites his lip and pulls you in for a kiss. His other hand goes under your skirt, slipping into your panties to feel you've already started to get wet. But how can you not when seeing him so hot and bothered for you?

Pleased by this, he groans and pulls you into his lap. Slowly bucking his hips, gliding his cock along your slick panties.

"Gyu..." you whimper, "maybe we should move off the bike. I wouldn't want it to fall over..."

"Typical human, always worrying," he smiles, showing off his sharp teeth, "It won't fall over, I promise. My feet are on the ground so I can balance it while you ride me."

"R-ride you?" your entire face goes red. Usually, your boyfriend is on top, taking control and plunging into you aggressively is his favorite way to have sex. So it isn't often that he asks you to be on top, but you can't deny that you enjoy doing it. And he does too, it's just that most days he can't stop himself from fucking you silly. But today he doesn't have much choice.

"C'mon baby, you can handle it right?" He smirks mischievously as if challenging you.

"Of course I can!"

"I dunno... maybe you're too weak to take it. I mean you are just a pathetic human after all," he teases.

You furrow your brows, determined to prove him wrong. So you lift your hips, move your panties to the side, and gently lower yourself onto him.

"F-fuck," a breathy moan leaves his lips as he sinks into you and bottoms out.

"That shut you up, huh?" you tease back as you begin riding him.

He can't deny that you took his breath away, he didn't expect you to take control like you did. His nails dig into your thighs as you pick up the pace. Moaning loudly as you bounce on his lap, squelching sounds filling the air as his thick shaft splits you apart.

"C-C'mon babe ah, if you k-keep movin' like that I'm gonna cum too soon," he clenches his teeth and tries to hold back his moans.

"I don't want us to get caught," you gasp, "Ngh- you do want to cum in me don't you?"

"C-course I do," a needy moan escapes him. He moves his hands to your hips and begins to move you up and down, assisting you in your motion.

You lean forward until his cockhead slams into your sweet spot, "Ah- right there!" Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the mess between your legs spreads all over your thighs.

Your legs are beginning to feel sore but you're too determined to chase your high to even care. Moving faster and faster despite the pain and your thighs trembling.

Usually, your boyfriend would take over at this point but he's too high on cloud nine to pay attention to anything but the way your slick walls wrap around him and squeeze him so tightly. Making it impossible for him to hold back any longer.

And with a strained groan, his nails dig into your skin, his cock twitches inside of you, and he leans back - accidentally revving his bike. But he's too busy filling you with his seed to even care.

Wanting to make sure he got his cum as deep as possible he tightly grabs your hips and thrusts up into you. Creating an absolute mess. A combination of his cum and your slick splattering all over your skirt and the seat of his bike.

You were already getting so close, but now the breeding instinct of your demon boyfriend brings you over the edge. Your walls tightening around him as your desperate moans fill the air.

Gyutaro smirks, pleased with himself as you slump over onto him. Feeling your body shake uncontrollably, he feels satisfied.

"That's it baby," he whispers as he gently kisses the side of your face, "You did so good for me."

"We should do this again sometime..." you whimper and nuzzle against him.

He smirks, "Hell yeah, but let's get you home and cleaned up for now."

He ignores the mess on his bike and pulls his pants up. Then he turns, positions himself properly, and shifts his bike back into drive.

"You good back there?" he shouts, making sure you're holding on tightly.

"Mm hm," you nod, wrapping your arms around him and leaning your head on his back.

"Y'know, maybe we could do this every week after your student council meetings," he snickers as he revs the engine.

[peachysunrize]

MAMMAMIA ⥃ modern!Aemond + Aegon Targaryen

Summary: Baela finds out about your crush on her cousins, who just happen to be the new rising stars in the music industry. And with the promise of meeting them, she forces you to go with her to one of their concerts. (Listen to MAMMAMIA by Maneskin)

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, threesome, creampie, oral (F & M receiving), fingering, degradation, Band au, alcohol consume, Aegon gets high, cocaine use, unprotected sex. Basically porn no plot! English isn’t my first language <3 divider by @/cafekitsune

Word count: 3.08k

A/n: do I even need to say anything or you know how unhinged this new photoshoot has made me?? LETS GET FUCKED— sorry if it's bad. I'm sick and it's 2am...

“You can’t be serious!” Baela gasps, chuckling in disbelief, “you can’t be fucking serious, girl!”

“Don’t act as if I’m the crazy one! You-you are the one snooping around my phone!” Screaming, you chase Baela to give your phone back while she goes through all of the posts you have made on Tumblr, all those unhinged comments you made earlier under the posts of the new photoshoot of your favorite band.

“What the fuck— you have a crush on my cousins! You sneaky slut, eww, you want them to do what—?” She gasps, looking from your phone to your face before laughing, flustering you even more. 

You have no idea which post she is exactly looking at, but you know she’d not back down from teasing you until she has you begging with tears for her to stop.

“Give my phone back, bitch—”

“Nu-uh! You want my cousins to dick you down, girlie, you are one sick crazy woman!” She keeps laughing at you, stepping back when you leap for your phone.

“Stop scrolling! Haven’t your parents taught you about personal space— give it back!” You screech at her, trying to loop your arm around her to snatch your phone, but all your efforts are in vain when she dodges you and steps behind you.

“Those are the worst fuckboys I have ever met! And you want to meet them? Are you fucking with me?” She is finding too much enjoyment in tormenting you, chuckling and laughing when she sees how crazy you have gone over the new pictures of her cousins.

“Baela, you are not supposed to see those! If I wanted to tell you, I would! Now, be a decent fucking human and give my.phone.back!”

“Want me to tell you a lil secret, babe?” She leans towards you, wrapping her arm around your shoulder when she hands you back your phone, “They have a concert here, in the town tonight.”

“What?!” You ask, eyes wide and nervous as you look at how she wiggles her eyebrows at you.

“Lucky you! I have one more VIP ticket, guess you’ll be coming with me,” she explains so casually that for a second you’re left gaping at her, jaw on the floor with surprise.

“You can’t be serious, Bae. This is absurd—”

“Girlie, I’m literally telling you that I have a spare VIP ticket and I want you to come with me and meet them! And you call this absurd? You’re one lucky bitch for having me in your life! Now get upstairs we need to choose your outfit!”

“Bae, I can’t accept this! It must have cost a fortune!” You gasp when she pulls on your hand, not letting you recover from the shock she just gave you.

“Lucky and dumb. I talked to Jace, asked him to get me three tickets so me and Rhaena could go and if she wanted she could bring someone! But she didn’t, and now, that ticket is yours! You’re seriously so fucking dumb if you think I paid for anything.”

You open your mouth to say something, but close it abruptly when she looks back and glares at you as she pulls you behind her to your room.

“Alright, alright! Are you sure you want me—”

“Shut the fuck up and pull out every sexy outfit you have! The more cleavage, the better. Aegon would lose his fucking mind if he gets a peek of your boobs.”

You giggle and listen to her, giddy and excited about tonight.

———

You tangle your fingers with Baela, confidence oozing from your every step, and you can already feel so many sets of eyes on your trio as you walk toward the VIP section. Baela forced you to wear a very tight and short leather skirt — she said Aemond loved latex or leather skirts when it came to women — and you obliged, pairing it with a tight crop top that shaped your breasts just perfectly, and for the last touch, she suggested a fishnet that covered your thighs just perfectly.

You are indeed one lucky bitch to have Baela in your life, trying to make you look like a candy in her cousins’ eyes so that you could get your dream come true.

The twins lead you towards the front of the stage, grabbing the beers that are being served among the crowd while you wait for the band to come on stage.

You rock on your high heel boots, biting your crimson-colored lips as you wait for them to come. Anticipation eating you alive while the time ticks away and you sip on your beverage.

Finally, the lights go down and you see Jace and Daeron going towards their instruments. The crowd goes wild as they shout and scream their names, followed for cheers for Luke who joins them and waves at the audience. The two people who you’ve been waiting for the most are only missing from the stage.

As soon as Daeron starts playing his drums, everyone starts screaming and cheering when they see Aegon and Aemond joining the band on the stage, Aegon already making his way towards the center of it as he starts singing, Aemond close behind him with his fingers already doing his magic on his electric guitar. 

 [ Oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, mamma mia-ma, ma-mamma mia-ah

I feel the heat up, uh, I feel the beat of drums

Call the police, I'll do it, they've stolen all my fun 

I'm breaking free, but I'm stuck in a police car ]

From the second you spot them, your eyes are glued to them as you dance with Baela and Rhaena, screaming and having the time of your life. You can’t believe how lucky you are to be standing a few meters away from the men you fantasize about for hours per day.

You and Baela finish your drinks, shouting the lyrics with every breath that you have left in your lungs while dancing and keeping your eyes on the stage. 

You catch Aemond’s eye, feeling your blood pumping faster as he winks at you, moving from chord to chord so effortlessly, his long fingers pressing into the strings with ease and you find yourself wanting nothing more than to feel them on your body, exploring each up and down.

[ Oh, mamma mia-ma, ma-mamma mia-ah

They treat me like if I did something criminal

All eyes on me, I feel like I'm a superstar

I'm not a freak, I just thought it was carniva ]

Aegon keeps singing, his chest in full view as he unbuttons his shirt, moving around the stage gracefully while he sings each note correctly. You look away from Aemond’s fingers only to catch Aegon walking towards where you are standing, a lazy smirk on his face as he keeps singing and kneeling in front of you.

[ Oh, ma-mamma mia, spit your love on me

I'm on my knees, and I can't wait to drink your rain

I'll keep it secret if you let me get a taste

Tell me your limit, and we'll cross the line again

Oh, mamma-mamma mia, ahahah! ]

He reaches forward, cupping your cheek with his free hand while he stares into your eyes as he sings:

[ Oh, ma-mamma mia, spit your love on me

I'm on my knees, and I can't wait to drink your rain

I'll keep it secret if you let me get a taste

Tell me your limit, and we'll cross the line again

Oh, mamma-mamma mia, ahahah! ]

His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, staring into your eyes with a newfound feeling. Your lips part in surprise, ears ringing as you try to realize what the fuck is happening now, and you can feel how he resists the urge to push his thumb into your eager mouth.

Like his younger brother, he shoots you a wink, leaving you breathless and needy as he stands up and moves toward the other side of the stage. 

You can already feel yourself soaking through your panties, following them both as they start singing the chorus together, but you can’t seem to be paying attention to what words they’re saying. All you can do is look at them; Aemond is in a sheer shirt with a long coat and latex pants while Aegon is bare-chested with long white pants. 

They look too good to be real.

After a few seconds, Baela nudges you and brings you out of your thoughts, and you join them again, dancing and singing with the band through the night.

The concert ends sooner than you would’ve liked, but Baela and Rhaena grab your hands to pull you out of the crowd toward the backstage, giggling all the way to the door. The bodyguard does an identity check before letting you three join the band in their rooms.

“Hey, girls!” Jace announces, pulling Baela into a hug before grinning at you, extending his hand to introduce himself.

“It’s a pleasure—“

“Oh, for fuck sake, save your gratitude for the people who matter. This guy doesn’t care,” Baela says, pulling you behind her towards the room with Rhaena and Jace following closely. 

As soon as you step inside, your eyes find the men you wanted to see; Aemond and Aegon are sitting on the couch, each of them having their drinks of choice in hand while a few girls flock around them, rubbing their hands all over them.

“Boys, I brought a fan!” 

“Hey!” You pinch her Baela’s waist.

“Oh, look who’s here!” Aegon says, standing up from the couch without glancing at the pouting women who were all over him, instead his eyes drink your sight up, “saw you out there, doll. You were quite enjoying yourself.”

“Oh, I was! I loved it!” You exclaim excitedly, realizing how desperate you might have sounded, you try to apologize but Aegon’s laugh stops you as he reaches to cup your cheek, another lazy smirk on his pink lips.

“We’re so happy you enjoyed yourself and the show, right, Aemond?” 

The younger one turns his head, a sinister smile on his mouth already when he seizes your outfit, licking his thin lips.

“Of course, when Baela told us she’d bring a friend we didn’t expect her to bring such beauty.” He says, standing up as well before making his way towards his older brother.

You nearly melt under their honey-coated words, a large yet shy smile breaking on your face as you gaze up at them through your lashes, wanting nothing more than to do hear more, but with everyone around it isn’t possible.

“Come! Let us have a drink!” Daeron claps, jumping to give everyone a glass of the whiskey Aemond is having while Aegon leads you and Aemond towards the couch they were already sitting on after he shooed out the other girls.

They make sure you are sitting between them, keeping you closer than before with Aemond’s finger caressing your bare shoulders while Aegon grips your thigh gently.

If anyone notices anything, they don’t say it, letting the three of you have your moment before they decide to change the topic.

“What if we go to the nearest club? I’m sure we can have fun there!” Luke suggests, looking hopefully.

“I rather go to the tour bus and have fun there, you should go though,” Aemond shrugs, already planning his next move on you, knowing how Aegon would catch up on his hints immediately.

Baela and Rhaena agree to go with Luke, taking Jace and Daeron with them before Baela smirks at you and gives you a cheeky wink, leaving you and your favorite boys alone.

“So, doll, do you want to have a photograph? We keep some in the bus,” Aegon tells you, rubbing circles with his thumb on your inner thigh, chuckling when you look up at him with blown pupils.

“I would love to,” you reply, trying to keep your voice down, not really wanting to sound desperate.

But when they take you to the bus, everything takes a turn and you find your lips locked in a passionate kiss with Aemond, his tongue moving along your bottom lip as he invades your mouth.

Aegon’s hands roam the length of your body while he sucks marks on your neck and shoulders, marking you as his and brother’s while they make you ready for whatever is about to come.

Aegon sits on the couch, fumbling with his belt as he watches you and his brother sucking the air out of each other’s mouths. He sighs with relief when his hard cock is freed from the confines of his pants, stroking himself into full hardness before pushing the fabric down to his ankles.

Aemond lets go of your lips, smirking when he finds you wide-eyed with pretty bruised lips. He turns you around before pulling down the zipper of your pretty leather skirt, pushing you on your knees in front of Aegon before he kneels behind you and pulls down your skirt, exposing your lace panties to his hungry gaze.

Aegon keeps stroking his thick cock with one hand, the other one caressing your face while he fists a bit of your hair, pulling you closer until your face is near his throbbing member.

Aemond, behind you, grabs the side of your fishnets, ripping them apart just so he can push your panties aside, groaning at the sight of your sweet and soaked pussy just for them. He has to keep himself away from diving in and feasting on your nectar like a starved dog ready to please his master.

You reach forward and grab a hold of Aegon’s dick, slapping it on your tongue a few times before taking the head in your mouth, tasting the salty flavor of his pre-cum. You kitten lick the angry tip, giggling when he curses and throws his head back.

Moaning around Aegon’s cock, you push your hips back as soon as Aemond licks a stripe from your center up to your clit, taking the bundle of nerves in his mouth. Aegon takes his chance and shoves your face down, forcing you to take more of him.

The brothers take what they want from you; one bobbing your head with his fingers in your hair, the other one buries his face between your thighs and shakes his head side to side, rubbing his curved nose in the right places that has you seeing stars.

Aemond’s fingers join his mouth soon, two digits at once that have you choking around Aegon’s thick cock in your mouth, fucking you at a fast pace.

Unfortunately or fortunately, you can’t form a coherent thought. You just lay there when Aemond pulls his fingers out of you to brush his coat off, pushing his pants down enough to grab a hold of his cock and bring it out of his boxers.

Your eyes water as Aegon keeps his assault on your mouth, the head of his dick hitting the back of your throat as his groans and moans fill the bus, and you can honestly feel him getting closer and closer, but he stops and pulls out of your mouth quickly.

“Turn around, doll, let Aemy see your pretty face as he fucks you stupid,” Aegon says as he stands up and walks to the desk in the corner before Aemond manhandles you on your back, most of your body supported by his strong arms keeping your hips aligned with his weeping cock.

You bite your lips, hands reaching to hold on to Aemond’s forearms as he pushes his fat cock inside you slowly, groaning at the resistance he faces but not pulling out either. With one swift thrust, he sheathes himself inside you completely, groaning at how warm and wet you are for him.

Aegon comes back with a pack of Snow, grinning at the sight of you getting fucked by his younger brother while his cock is still hard and twitchy against his stomach. He crouches down next to you, opening the pack before he lines up two rows of the powder on your breasts, deeping his head down to sniff one, groaning in delight as he licks at your breast after that.

“Keep going, lil bro. We shouldn’t disappoint our biggest fan,” Aegon chuckles, leaning down to sniff the second line as well before he tips his head back, relishing in the moans and yelps of pleasure you let out as Aemond keeps fucking you in a fast pace that has you seeing stars.

“Are you going to join or not?” Aemond asks his older brother breathlessly, his good eye glued to where your bodies are joined.

“Oh, yes, I’m gonna fill her pretty mouth with my cum now,” you moan at the thought of him fucking his load down your throat, “yeah, what a slut we have here, eager to take more than one cock inside her. Pretty doll, ready to serve your favorite celebrities?” Aegon hovers above your chest and you open your lips for him, hands coming for support to his thick thighs before he pushes himself in as well.

Aemond fucks you harder, his thumb going down to rub on your pearl in a fast pace, bringing you closer to your peak. 

Aegon tries to match his brother’s rhythm, thrusting his dick into your mouth intensely, groaning and shaking on top of you as he fucks your throat.

The brothers moan and have their way with you in sync, and with one final moan and a deep rough thrust from Aemond, you come undone, clenching so hard around Aemond that he comes with you as well, emptying his thick load inside your cunt.

Aegon takes a bit longer, so you reach and fumble with his balls, squeezing them in your hands while you give him the best puppy look you can muster, begging him to give you whatever he has.

And he does, coming inside you as he shudders, pressing his hips to your nose until there is no room left for you to breathe, so you lay there and take it, spurting some of his salty cum out of your mouth. 

They both pull away from you, Aegon lies down on the floor while Aemond sits back on his heels, smiling at your filled pussy, watching his cum dribbling out of you slowly, leaking on the floor.

“You’re not going anywhere, doll,” Aegon says, “you’re ours from now. Not a chance we’d let a pretty thing like you flee away from us.”

[thechurchoftheradiodemon]

Salutations to all of you, gentlepeople!

I love making lists, so I'm gonna update my Radioapple fic recs. All of these feature great aspec representation (non-sex repulsed Alastor for the nsfw ones), great writing, great characterization and amazing storytelling. I've fallen down a rabbit hole called Hellaverse and Radioapple and I can't get out, so I'm hoping to bring all of you with me.

I'd love to read more good fanfics, so feel free to recommend your favs in the comments, please!

Lucid dreams of New Orleans by @radiaurapple . Heartbreaking, fluffy, beautiful, and amazing setting, writting and characterization. It might be becoming my favourite. Human AU (kinda), and deserving of so much love.

Of Saints and Sinners by @morningstarwrites . No list in the Radioapple fandom is complete without this. I don't think I need to write why it's great, everyone knows. The fun, the fluff, the lightheartedness, and fantastic writing skills.

Strange Apetites by GotllPhi. Human Alastor AU, gorey, sexy (nsfw), surprisingly fluffy and intense. The characterizations are on point and the storytelling is *cheff's kiss*. It's on hiatus while the author is getting married, but still a must read.

Lucifer and his Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Relationship series by @keelywolfe . Another nsfw one (much more so), but amazingly done and with great aspec representation. Beautifully written, intense and the story is just hooking. Also, the RadioApple Standalones are a very fun read, the sfw and the nsfw alike.

I shine only with the light you gave me by @soot-and-salt . This one is just a one-shot, but it shot through my heart. Gorgeous short story, great rythm and development, I fell in love. They have a series called We should've been enemies which is also fantastic (and nsfw), very sexy and intriguing, and still developing!

Lolm by @radioapple-heathen . It's only one chapter so far (and marked Explicit for the future of the fic), but it got to me. Fun shenanigans, a pet snake and a shared hatred for technology. It's very well characterized and nicely written.

Eat your Heart out by @seducipher . Modern human AU, nsfw and very addictive. It's still going, but it was a fic a binged in one night. Good characterization and nicely written.

Bedtime Rituals to try out before the next Angelic War by @miribalis . A very cute, fluffy and domestic fanfic that I can't recommend enough. Very well written with amazing characterization, and it's completed!

@notherpuppet 's Human AU series. Another fandom classic, but, again, no list is complete without it. In love with their artstyle, their story and their characterizations. Fluff, fun and shenanigans galore!

I still have too many saved for later that I'm thisting to read, so this list might expand in the future.

Also, if you'll allow me, this is for the spanish speakers: I wrote a short fic (2 chapters), Primavera en Nueva Orleans, that takes place during Alastor's last year alive and after Extermination Day. I'm selfpromoting here, but check it out 👀

Thanks for reading, don't forget to like and comment on your favourite creators' works 📻🍎

Stay tuned!

[muzansfangs]

We are on the same boat. If only he was less grumpy and murderous, he’d make such a great candidate for a wedding🤷🏻‍♀️❤️

Grumpy, fedora-wearing husband who begrudgingly takes photos of you on a summer holiday 🤭❤️

Heatwave.

Starring: Muzan Kibutsuji x f!reader;

Format: drabble;

Warnings: fluff, slightly suggestive, modern au, married couple dynamics, human!muzan, jealousy, lovesick Muzan;

Plot: it was that time of the year when you packed your stuff and travelled towards tropical destinations together. Your husband loathed the sun, the heatwaves made him particularly grumpy, especially since you wore such scandalous bikinis. However, you were too beautiful for him not to lavish.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The crystal water sparkled under the blood orange sky, the colorful lanterns around the dock and the sun disappearing behind the horizon setting off the ocean, twinkling like a starry night sky. The waves embraced the shore steadily, the cry of some seagulls in the distance cutting the sultry air of the summer evening, as you twirled around the beach barefoot.

Your laughter, the way you smiled lazily and ran your fingers through your hair to draw back a cowlick tickling your nose made it hard for him to display his perpetually grumpy face. Instead, his hand reached for his phone in the pocket of his white capri pants. He was definitely not a beach person and he hated summer with every melocule of his body, but you made that nauseating season more bearable, almost pleasant, if he had to be completely honest.

You were not paying attention to him, leading the way to your hotel instead as your bright eyes soaked in the spectacular landscape around you. Another one, he just needed to take one more picture of you.

You did not have to know.

Right, you could just go on with your walk and bless his eyes with the vision of your smile and your body, of the way the bikini you had bought complimented your curves, ‘much to his dismay’. All you had to do was live and he was happy to contemplate you, without disrupting that moment of peace.

The click of the camera broke the spell. You blinked skeptically, head turning towards Muzan in confusion “Huh? Did you take a picture of me?” you asked him, stopping in your tracks as he cussed under his breath.

Mission accomplished, but he had been caught.

“What makes you think I did? Maybe I just liked the sunset” he replied smoothly, quick to shove his phone back into his pocket, out of your reach.

You chuckled, shoulders slacking “Really? I did not know you were into photography. Show me” you chirped out, but he avoided your gaze and huffed.

He had been caught red-handed and now there was no way in Hell he was going to accept his fate and admit you were right. He loved taking pictures of you, he liked to scroll through his photo gallery and relax at the sight of your pretty face, most of the time inattetive, as Kokushibo drove him yet to another tiring meeting with a group of white-collars spluttering nonsense about economic strategies supposedly benefitting the Country.

Muzan looked up at the sky, hands into his pockets “I needed a new lockscreen” he finally asserted, watching you stroll back towards him in glee, sandals in your hands flopping together with your giddy shamble.

“Ah, I knew it! — you gloated, stopping right in front of you, smirking — If you wanted me to pose for you, all you had to do was ask for it” you said, tossing your shoes onto the sand and leisurely swinging your arms around his shoulders.

Muzan dipped his head towards you, pointy nose brushing against yours “You don’t need to pose to look good” he stated, voice lowering and taking a tender edge only you had ever had the pleasure to see.

He could be cold-blooded, unphased, a calculator but he never once lied to you. He never let you down, he never shut you out. You had the privilege to love and be loved by him, there was no way in Hell he was going to admit you had stolen his heart.

With a kiss, you melted in his arm. Your mouth sealed with his, your breaths mingling as you were teleported into your own little world for a few seconds. At least, until a crab stapled to Muzan’s toe and he groaned out in sheer irritation.

“Useless creature from Hell” he hissed, swatting it away as you bursted out laughing, your gasps and laughter warming his heart.

He was still your Muzan, grumpy and yours.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! Back home and back to posting! Enjoying this small drabble on my birthday. Likes, re-posts and comments are greatly apprecciated! Love y’all,

Luce!

[lizzieisright]

I actually asked another creator this too, but if your requests ARE open, can you do a comfort fic where Abby starts dating reader and it's like her first relationship outside of a manipulative/controlling/abusive relationship? where abbys just super sweet and reassuring and just :((

I love your writing sm so!!

Palestine: what can you do

I'm ready to suffer (and I'm ready to hope)

Okay actually I saw these amazing women who are paediatric PTs on youtube and thought Abby would make an amazing paediatric PT, so this is modern au! 

Tw for the mentions of abusive situations. 

/-/-/-/-/-/-

When you finally leave Sandy you swear to not ever date again.

And you don’t.

You find a therapist and start spending more time with your friends again. They’re incredibly supportive of you and they don’t let you sit at home, always asking you to hang out or go somewhere. They’re eager to introduce the world back to you and it’s wonderful, but you’re exhausted. Sandy took every piece of you and it's damn hard work to gain it back, and dealing with the fear of being shamed for not having a good time when your friends put so much effort into it is very hard. It takes a lot of reminders from them to make you feel okay, but somewhere in your mind you still expect them to blow out on you. They never do.

And you start to feel like you’re in a good place now. Of course, when we feel like we’re finally free, the Universe needs us to remember how much work is still ahead of us. Your reminder comes to your work at the end of the work day on Friday with a bouquet of lilies that smell as suffocating as the person holding them.

“Hi baby.” Sandy smiles at you, but you don’t move closer than 3 feet. You want to go around her if she had a bomb in these flowers.

The good thing - you expected it. You weren’t surprised to see her here, so she lost her element of shock that would have disarmed you.

“What do you want?” You ask coldly.

“Come on baby, it’s Friday! I thought it would be a good time for us to go on a date, discuss what happened and you know, make up. I miss you.”

You clench your fists. She wants to discuss what happened - is she ready to admit her mistakes and change? Is it a sign that everything will work out this time?

No. No “this time”.

“I have plans.”

The angry furrow on Sandy's face just proves you made the right decision. The bouquet falls on the floor and she starts crying.

“I thought you loved me!” Sandy howls and your colleagues are now paying attention to the whole situation. “You have a date, don't you? Already moved on, huh? Fucking slut.”

It's humiliating, but you understand with horror that you're used to it. It's not the first time when your coworkers see Sandy in this state.

“I'm just hanging out with Niki.” You reassure Sandy because you don't want to hurt her - she is a human after all and she was always so jealous, so insecure about your loyalty. People betrayed her in the past, and you have a hard time blaming her.

“Of course, the moment I'm out of the picture Niki is there to lick your wounds! I bet she does more than just licking your wounds.”

The shame flares up and you take a breath. You slipped up. You fell for her shit again.

“It doesn't concern you anymore.”

You don't wait for her answer, too scared she will get to you again. You turn around and go into the office where she will not be allowed to follow.

At your next appointment with your therapist, you're pissed off at yourself.

“Why did I even speak to her? I knew it would end badly!”

“Well, it's normal to speak to people when they speak to you. You told her you're busy and she tried to manipulate you again, but you slowed down, noticed what she was doing, and made the right decision. I'd say this situation shows how much progress you've made. You protected yourself.”

These words bring you back to reality. You sigh.

“She will come to my work again.”

Dr. Spencer hums.

“You told me before that you would like to explore different opportunities in your work field. Maybe you should take yourself on that.”

This is how you end up getting a job as the nurse in a paediatric clinic. It is in a different place of the city and takes a different route, so Sandy won’t be able to catch you at a metro station if she tries. You don’t tell your colleagues where you’re going, just saying you wanted to take time for yourself and relax, removing the possibility of Sandy finding you again.  

You're excited - working with kids and helping them seems like an opportunity to heal something in yourself by doing something good. The head of the clinic, Sevika, gives you a tour after your final interview to meet the team and she also introduces you to the doctor you’ll be working with.

“Doctor Anderson?” Sevika calls when you enter the office. “Do you have a minute?”

“Yeah, hang on.” The voice of this woman is soft and friendly, and it reassures you.

“I want you to meet your new nurse.”

Something falls and you hear a children’s song playing and the room is not illuminated by different colours. Adorable.

“Sorry, it’s a mess here.” You hear her voice again and then Dr. Anderson emerges.

You just stare. She is tall and has broad shoulders, her compression shirt under her scrubs shows off her muscled arms - which is expected, she is a PT - her blonde hair is braided and her braid rests on her shoulder. Dr. Anderson is incredibly pretty, and you’re a woman enough to admit it and stay professional.

“Hi. I’m Abby.” Dr. Anderson smiles and holds her hand for a handshake.

You tell her your name and shake her hand - god, the grip these women have here.

“Would you walk Ms. (Y/n) through everything here?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Dr. Anderson shows you everything: where is all the equipment, the toys for kids, the changing room. She tells you all about the protocols - which you’re familiar with as well, except for dealing with overprotective parents and dealing with kids’ pain: at your previous clinic you mostly worked with adults.

“I’m very excited.” You admit after your tour is finished.

“Yeah?” Dr. Anderson grins. “Be prepared to learn a lot of baby songs.”

You laugh and feel very optimistic. You feel like you can have your life back now.

Your first day might not go as smoothly as you wanted, but Dr. Anderson is patient with you. She doesn’t snap at you when you follow her instruction wrong for the third time and doesn’t tell you off after patients leave. She just gives you tips and leaves it to you to correct it. You don’t know if she notices how you flinched in fear when you made a mistake the first time or if she is always like this, but you’re grateful anyway.

The kids are adorable and resilient, they don’t give up and it makes you cry a little. The way Dr. Anderson praises them and holds them and explains to parents what she is doing is admirable. Watching her hold a 3yo toddler on her palms is equally impressive and attractive. Dr. Anderson is attractive, it’s hard not to be drawn to her, but you shove your emotions deep, deep down - it’s incredibly unprofessional. You complain about it to Dr. Spencer and she just chuckles and reminds you, “Attraction happens unconsciously and you can’t control it, so stop fighting it.” It annoys you that she is right.

After three months working together you become friends and you call Dr. Anderson Abby now. Because honestly, she looks absolutely ridiculous in her Hello Kitty cap. You find your rhythm and now you work extremely smoothly - you know exactly when the kid needs to be distracted or when Abby needs your help during different exercises.

And Abby doesn’t tell you - because she is also aware how unprofessional she is - but she adores you. You’re so good with kids it makes Abby jealous sometimes, how you somehow know what exactly will stop the kid from crying. You’re also good with her - you take as much as possible from her shoulders and Abby now has someone to rely on.

She knows she is ears deep in love when you send her a video of a bright squeaky octopus and tell her you’re going to buy it for her office and then a few days later you admit to her that it’s actually a dog toy and you got in a pet section. Abby cackles and promises not to tell anyone. Especially since the octopus is a hit with a few kids she is treating.

Abby is desperate. She knows she can’t ask you on a date, but love makes a fool out of the best of us, so on the day that marks four months since you’ve been working together, Abby goes to Sevika’s office to embarrass herself.

“You’re embarrassing yourself, Dr. Anderson.” Sevika tells her as much. “Ms. (Y/n) is not employed by you and you have no authority over her. Ask the girl out and don’t waste my time. If it goes south I’ll just send her to Grayson.”

“Thanks, Sevika.”

“Get the fuck out, Anderson.”

Abby laughs and goes back to work, hopeful.

And Abby is not delusional - you do like her. She is caring and patient and funny as hell. But you’re too scared both because you’re her nurse and because as much as you work in therapy, Sandy doesn’t let go of you. Dr. Spencer had to deal with your multiple spirals after you started working with Abby and fucking up or thinking you’re fucking up. “Now name me 10 things that are different about Dr. Anderson and Sandy” was said at least 5 times. Well, your life is routine based so you schedule your spirals once a month, it seems.

So yes, you like Abby a lot. But you’re so broken that when Abby finally gains courage and,

“Do you have plans this weekend?”

“Sleep for 12 hours counts?” You laugh, oblivious.

“Would you-“ Abby takes a big breath and now you’re panicking, scared she’ll tell you something mean. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

You just stand there and stare at her in shock. Abby gives you time, but her nerves are not that strong, so she gives up when the silence starts to feel too big.

“I’m sorry.” Abby says as politely as possible, not wanting to burden you with her disappointment. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I-uh- no, it’s okay! I just- I didn’t expect it.” You say while anxiety is buzzing inside you. “I upset you, I’m sorry.” You cringe when you understand you projected onto Abby again.

“Hey, it’s totally fine. I understand, believe me.” Abby smiles.

You’re too scared to agree - you don’t feel like you’re ready for dating - so you let the awkward silence fill the room.

That evening you spend overthinking, convincing yourself Abby deserves better, that you’re not good enough for her and you can’t involve her in your issues.

“So Dr. Anderson, who you like, likes you back?” Dr. Spencer asks when you retell her the whole story. “Why don’t you tell her you’d go on a date with her?”

“Because I’m not what she needs. She needs someone who is better than whatever I am.” Dr. Spencer nods compassionately. She wants to bring your attention to how you speak about yourself, but she chooses to go on a different route.

“Don’t take her choice away. Let her decide what she needs. After all, who is the expert on her needs?”

“She is.” You admit and feel like you can breathe again. You're not responsible for Abby's choices, so you can't decide for her. It makes you feel free.

Abby is not having the time of her life on Saturday evening, moping around and cringing at herself for asking you out and reading the situation wrong, when her phone rings. She sees your contact and her heart speeds up from anxiety and hope.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s me. I-um. I’m sorry for yesterday, I was just- Sorry, not the point. Is your offer still standing?” You sound extremely nervous and it’s cute. Abby smiles and chuckles, happy.

“Yes. Of course.” She says softly and hears your shaky sigh. “Are you free tomorrow?”

You’re very nervous on your first date with Abby - you don’t want to upset her. So you dress and redress and redress until you think you don’t look too embarrassing. Abby smiles and compliments your outfit when she sees you, and some of your anxiety goes away. You’re painfully aware that you feel like you’re walking on eggshells during your date - Abby took you to an art gallery and then to dinner - and you know it’s not because of Abby. Abby has been so sweet and considerate the whole time and you’re sure she doesn’t feel comfortable with how tense you are at some moments, but the past still grips you tightly.

So you come clean to her when you go for a walk after dinner.

“I’m sorry I’ve been weird.” You start and Abby looks at you to show that she is listening. “My past relationship was not great and I’m dealing with the aftermath now. Sometimes it’s hard for me to stay grounded in reality.” You’re so deeply ashamed of yourself you can’t look at Abby. You expect her to dump you right away, or laugh at you, or call you weird, but nothing like this happens.

“Oh.” She says, surprised. She thought you were just shy, but it makes sense. “Thank you for telling me. Is it why you didn’t agree to the date when I asked you on Friday?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” You cringe, but Abby looks at you softly.

“Don’t. We all have our battles. I’m glad you called me back.”

You can’t help your smile. Abby can’t help but to ask if she can kiss you.

The first sign of how “not great” your past relationship was happens three weeks into dating. It was the end of the day and you were packing your things when your phone made a sound. You quickly checked it and then looked at Abby, panicked. Abby stops packing her bag, worried.

“Did something happen?”

“N-no. My friend just texted me. She asked me if we could go for drinks.” You admit, scared to lie to Abby and scared she will not be pleased with you. “Can I?”

“Can you what?” Abby asks, confused, but your mind is registering it as anger. You take a breath to calm down.

“Can I go? If you don’t want me to, I won’t, I promise.”

Abby stops completely. Her heart breaks when she understands what is happening, and why it’s happening.

“Baby, hey. Take a breath, yeah?” She speaks softly and comes closer to you to hold your hands gently. “I’m not going to be mad if you go anywhere, especially to meet your friends. You don’t need to ask my permission, okay? You’re your own person with your own life.”

You sniffle and Abby coos and hugs you tightly.

“I’m sorry.” You say into her shoulder. “I just-“

“It takes time to heal. I understand.” You cry even harder in her arms. “I promise I’m not going to be mad about it. Can’t be sure about Kyle though.”

You laugh through your tears - Kyle is a two year old who is obsessed with the noises you can make. It’s the only thing that keeps him calm when he does his exercises, and you have to be in the room during his appointments.

“Thank you.” You tell Abby honestly and she kisses your forehead.

You’re still nervous when you go to see Niki the next day, but Abby just tells you to be safe and call her if you need her, and that she can pick you up if you want her to. You’re not sure, and you tell her that, and that you will text her if you change your mind. It’s scary, to put a boundary, but Abby just kisses your cheek and tells you to have fun.

“You look so happy.” Niki tells you after you caught up on mundane news and gossip.

“I’m actually dating someone.” You confess and Niki's mouth hangs open in a dramatic shock.

“Really? And how is it going? What’s her name? Do you have a picture?”

“Her name is Abby. We work together, and she is amazing.” You giggle and show Niki one of the pictures you took together when you were fooling around at the clinic.

“Wow. She looks strong.” Niki winks and you get flustered. “I hope she treats you well.”

“I told her about Sandy. She has been very patient with my bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit.” Niki frowns, stubborn. “Sandy is a fucking psycho and she really hurt you.”

“Abby told me she can pick me up if I want her to, but I’m not sure. It’s hard to understand what is normal behaviour and what is not.” You admit and Niki squeezes your bicep, showing her support.

“Well, when we hung out while you were with Sandy, she texted you constantly and then showed up ten minutes later to drag you out of here.”

“It wasn’t like this at first.”

“No, at first she was just constantly texting you and asking you about stupid shit.” Niki says pointedly and eyes your phone that hasn't made a sound during the whole evening. "I think your girlfriend just cares about you. You know, like a decent person."

You end up texting Abby and asking her to come when you and Niki feel like it’s time to go home. Abby replies with a thumb up, and then 20 minutes later she enters the pub and smiles at you. You introduce Niki to Abby and they shake hands while you laugh at Niki’s face when she gets to experience a handshake with a PT.

“Are you ready to go or do you guys want to have some more time? I’ll wait.” Your heart feels swollen from feelings: Abby is so sweet you can’t help but nuzzle into her side. “I feel like this is the answer.” She chuckles and Niki coos at you two.

“Let’s go.” Niki smiles like a fox, happy to see you happy.

“Do you have a ride?” Abby asks Niki while she gives you her forearm to hold on to. “We can drop you off.”

“No, I called a taxi already.” She smiles and winks at you.

When you go outside Abby takes off her jacket and places it around you shoulders and you smile like a lovesick idiot. It’s not even this chilly, but Abby still thinks of your comfort.

When Niki is safe in her taxi, you both get inside Abby’s car as well.

“Did you have fun?”

“Yeah.” You smile.

“Good.”

The fights, as it turns out, are not scary or loud or violent - you’re baffled by the fact that Abby actually listens to you when you voice your concerns. You expect her to lash out or tell you you’re imagining things or that you’re making a villain out of her, but nothing like this happens. Abby has her own issues: she is very problem-solving focused and her first reaction is “how can I/we fix this”, and it hurts when you actually want her to comfort you, but you both learn how to deal with it. You honestly can’t even call them fights, they’re more like troubleshoots.

What is scary is that the first few times when you voice your problems and Abby reacts like a normal person, you bottle up your anxiety. You exhaust yourself with overthinking: is Abby going to leave you? Are you too much to handle? Are you being a burden? How long before your stupid whims will make Abby sick of you?

You can’t bear it. You see how patient Abby is with kids, how she pushes them just enough for them to progress and evolve, how kind she is, how she calls them “sirs” and “ma’ams” when they do something on their own, and all you can think is that you don’t deserve her. How amazing Abby is and how fucked up you are, and how much problems you cause.

You’re spiralling, and you know it, able to recognise your own insanity now, but you can’t stop it. But the one thing Dr. Spencer taught you is to speak up, and one day, when you’re at Abby’s place, you find your courage to speak up.

“Am I being too much?”

“Hm?” Abby is confused. She is often confused when your issues come out of nowhere. “What do you mean?”

“Will you break up with me because I ask for too much?” You ask quietly, really trying to ignore how your voice shakes because you’re on the verge of tears.

Abby stares at you for a second, but in the next she is hugging you. The dam inside you breaks and you sob into her chest, letting all anxiety go out.

“I will not leave you. I’m here. You don’t ask for too much, baby, you barely ask for anything. Ask for more, ask the world from me, okay? Ask for the most ridiculous shit, it’ll only make me love you more.” Abby murmurs and your sobs get louder. “Let it out, yeah, let it out. I love taking care of you, it’s my favourite thing in the world.”

“I’m just so scared.” You say into Abby’s chest as you cling to her. “I want to be deserving of you.”

“Baby, you’re deserving of me just by existing. You’re here and this alone makes me happy.”

Abby lets you cry it out and then brings you some water when you calm down. You are still vulnerable and anxious, but Abby cuddles you and talks to you to soothe you. 

“Do you think I'm weak?” You ask her ten minutes later and Abby chuckles. 

“Quite the opposite, actually. I don't think if I went through what you did I would ever let myself trust someone again. But you are brave. And you're so incredibly kind and thoughtful. The only weakness you have is probably sweets.” You both chuckle. “And I'm very angry that there's a person who dared to hurt you like this and put this bullshit into your head. Honestly, can you give me her address? I know exactly how to break her bones.”

“Can you promise to tell me if dealing with me gets tiring?”

“Of course.” Abby promises you genuinely, because she knows this moment might come - she is only human. But she knows that even when this moment comes, she will be by your side. 

+ 1 nsfw

When you first have sex you're both very worked up and you cling to Abby impatiently, clawing at her shirt and her pants, not really sure what you want to be gone first. Abby thinks it's cute, how needy you are, and she tells you as much before she can think.

“Someone is needy, huh?” She teases you and expects you to get flustered, but instead you freeze and look at her, wide eyed and hurt. 

“Sorry.” You say, ashamed, and Abby's heart breaks. She takes your face into her palms and looks into your eyes with such tenderness you have to look away. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like this. I like how enthusiastic you are. It makes me feel wanted.” Abby smirks and your cheeks heat up. “Is there… is there anything I need to be careful about?”

“I’m not really good at sex.” You admit. “I wasn't able to make my ex cum.” You don't tell Abby the whole story, you don't want to ruin the mood, but Sandy was never happy with your skills: she had to watch porn on her phone to get aroused when you topped. And she hated when you didn't do as she wanted when you bottomed and how needy and pathetic you were. 

“Well. I don't trust your ex’s opinion since she is a piece of shit.” Abby smirks. “And sex it not about destination-”

“It’s about the journey, I know.” You chuckle. Dr. Spencer likes this saying so much. You take a breath and brace yourself: you know sex is not a place where you can hide something from Abby without hurting you both. Honesty is crucial in sex. “I don't think I can undress fully. Can I leave my shirt on?”

“Of course. Can I- can I still touch you under it? I really wanna feel how soft your tits are.”

You hide your face in embarrassment and giggle. You nod and Abby kisses your cheek.

“If you don't enjoy something, tell me, yeah? And if you want we can really make your ex look stupid.” 

“How?”

“With you I really don't need much to cum. One stroke wonder if you will.”

You snort and hit Abby's shoulder. 

“You're horrible.”

Abby grins and kisses you. You do make Sandy look stupid that night, when Abby's thighs close around your head and she cums on your face so hard your ears start to ring. 

[temis-de-leon]

Replaced MC AU/AU - Intro

Characters: demon brothers, Diavolo, Barbatos, gn!MC and gn!NES (New Exchange Student)

Main Masterlist

Replaced MC AU/AU Masterlist (check all the versions and learn more about the NESs!)

CW: insecure and jealous MC, condescending Diavolo and Lucifer, they like that you're jealous but they mean no harm

.

The brothers tried not to smile when they saw MC’s pout, most of them enjoying their insecurity to some extent and letting it feed their egos. It was flattering, seeing them jealous of the possible presence of a new human, the threat of being replaced by the newest atraction. And although MC knew they didn’t really want to cause any harm, it was impossible not to feel a pang in their chest when they saw how interested the demons were in bringing another human.

“But I don’t understand” they said “Why do you need another exchange student from the human realm? You already have Solomon and me”

Diavolo laughed and crossed his arms over his chest, looking at their frown with condescendence before bringing his serious diplomatic expression back and explaining himself once again, this time slower.

“We think the program could work better if there was a human more similar to you, someone with a normal lifespan and a more… naive understanding of magic”

“Having Solomon as the second human student would only slow the process of building a relationship with the human realm” intervened Lucifer with a know-it-all smile.

“We need another human that acts like a human” concluded the prince.

But still, it didn’t make any sense. Having a regular human wouldn’t speed the process, not unless they were an important political figure, in which case it wouldn’t be a regular human anymore; and even then, two humans on their own would never be able to convince the whole world to accept Diavolo’s offer.

Their explanation sounded like a convenience and MC suspected with a heavy heart that what the royals and the brothers really wanted was something different that could expand their knowledge on the modern human society; as if MC was a comfort plushie from their childhood that would be there no matter how abandoned they felt.

They didn’t want to hurt their feelings, MC knew that, but lying made everything worse. What if the new exchange student brought more than they could ever offer, even with their powers? What if they were prettier or more interesting or stronger? What if MC wasn’t enough anymore?

“You’ll always be our favourite human, MC” murmured Belphie with a soft smile, guessing their thoughts.

He said it with good intentions, no doubt, but MC grew angry nonetheless. What made him think he was the right one to say that? He, who wanted to destroy all human mankind over a grudge and a misunderstanding, suddenly wanted to meet more humans?

MC scoffed and crossed their arms, knowing the new student would be there no matter how jealous or insecure that made them feel.

“And when will they be here?”

.

.

Just one month passed until they were all present in the castle, impatiently waiting for the new human to arrive.

The brothers had spent everything they had on MC: free time, money and words of affirmation, but none of that seemed to have any type of importance when they all looked so happy to be there.

Only half of them were there the first time MC arrived, for crying out loud!

“Is everyone ready?” Barbatos asked stepping into the red circle engraved on the floor.

He didn’t wait for an answer before opening the portal. Had he waited, MC would’ve begged for a couple of minutes. They felt their heart beating in their throat, acting like an obstacle for the bile that threatened to come out.

A figure appeared with a flash of light, gasping and grasping their chest with urgency. The mist cleared within seconds and all of them stared at the new human with open wide eyes, simply watching as they got up on their feet, alarmed at their surroundings and looking at everyone like a prey amongst predators, which wasn’t that far off.

Not even a minute later, their gaze stopped on MC and their expression softened, instincts surely recognizing the only other human in the room.

“Hey”

.

.

.

I'm going to tag everyone who specifically asked me to tag them and some of those who wrote the positive feedback because i love you all (but if you don't want me to, just tell me, i won't get offended): @stfuchaase @k1-an @megs-wonderland @kkeromenoo @va109 @marvelous-maniac @cruzerforce4256 @blarsh @marathedemonoverlord @junni-berry

[misswynters]

HIGH (modern au)

CEO! Cregan Stark x Heiress! reader

[synopsis: As the heiress to a conglomerate, it can be extremely difficult and challenging. So you decide to step away and find yourself with cregan.

[warning: smoking, not proofread

Cregan Stark leaned against the balcony railing, the city lights flickering below like stars trapped on earth. He flicked his lighter, the flame briefly illuminating his chiseled features before he brought the cigarette to his lips. The scent of tobacco mixed with the crisp night air, creating a heady aroma that felt strangely comforting.

"You know, this is probably the worst thing we could do for our images," you remarked, stepping onto the balcony with your own cigarette in hand. The cool night air wrapped around you like a cloak, and you couldn't help but shiver slightly, though whether from the cold or the presence of the Stark heir, you weren't sure.

Cregan's lips curled into a smirk as he blew out a plume of smoke. "Since when did you care about our images, Princess?" His voice was a low rumble, filled with amusement.

You shrugged, leaning beside him, the heat from his body a stark contrast to the chill in the air. "I don't, really. Just pointing out the irony."

He passed you his lighter, his fingers brushing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. "Irony? That the heirs to two of the biggest conglomerates are sneaking a smoke like rebellious teenagers?"

Lighting your cigarette, you took a deep drag, savoring the way the nicotine hit your system. "Exactly. We should be inside, mingling with the other sharks, planning our next big moves."

Cregan turned to face you fully, his intense grey eyes locking onto yours. "Or maybe, we deserve a break from all that. Maybe we need moments like these to remind us that we're still human."

You met his gaze, the world around you fading into insignificance. "Maybe," you echoed softly, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the cigarette between your fingers.

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the distant hum of the city and the faint crackle of burning tobacco. In that shared quiet, you found a connection deeper than any corporate alliance, a bond forged in the rare moments where you could just be yourselves.

"Remember that summer at the Hamptons?" you asked, a nostalgic smile tugging at your lips.

Cregan chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "How could I forget? The bonfire on the beach, the midnight swims, and you challenging me to that surfing contest."

You laughed, the memory vivid and bright. "You cheated, by the way. I'm convinced you had more practice than you let on."

He raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "Cheated? I seem to recall you daring me to do it. Besides, you held your own pretty well."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't suppress your smile. "It's one of the few times we weren't surrounded by suits and expectations."

Cregan nodded, taking another drag from his cigarette. "Those moments are rare. We should make more of them."

You looked at him, really looked at him, and saw beyond the heir to the Stark empire. You saw the boy who'd grown up under immense pressure, the man who craved genuine connections as much as you did.

"I'd like that," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, a real, genuine smile that reached his eyes. "Then let's start now."

As the night stretched on, you and Cregan smoked in companionable silence, sharing stories, laughter, and dreams. Two heirs finding solace in each other, away from the demands of their world, cherishing the simplicity of a shared vice and the promise of more moments like this to come.

Cregan's phone buzzed, interrupting the quiet. He glanced at the screen and sighed. "Duty calls," he muttered, but he didn't move to answer it. Instead, he turned to you, his expression softening. "Ever think about just... running away from it all?"

You laughed lightly, the sound mingling with the distant noise of the city. "More times than I care to admit. But where would we go?"

He shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Anywhere but here. Someplace where no one knows our names or cares about our last names."

The thought was tempting, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to imagine a life free from the pressures and expectations. "Maybe a small town by the sea," you mused. "We could open a little café, live simply."

Cregan's smile widened. "I like that. We could call it 'The Heirloom Café,' a nod to our past lives but nothing more."

You shook your head, grinning. "You have it all figured out, don't you?"

He chuckled, the sound deep and reassuring. "Not really. But it's nice to dream."

As the night wore on, the conversation flowed effortlessly between you. You talked about your hopes, your fears, and the weight of the legacy you each carried. Cregan revealed a surprising passion for painting, something he rarely had time for, and you confessed your love for writing, the novels you penned secretly in the dead of night.

"Why don't you publish them?" he asked, genuine curiosity in his eyes.

You sighed, the weight of your responsibilities pressing down on you. "Because they're not what people expect from me. They're personal, and I'm not sure the world is ready to see that side of me."

Cregan nodded, understanding in his gaze. "I get that. Sometimes, it feels like we're trapped by the expectations others have of us."

"Exactly," you agreed, feeling a kinship with him that you hadn't felt with anyone else. "But out here, with you, it feels different. Like we can be ourselves."

He reached out, his hand finding yours in the darkness. "We can be. We just have to decide to make it a reality."

You squeezed his hand, the simple gesture speaking volumes. "Maybe one day," you whispered, the words a promise and a hope.

The conversation lulled, the silence comfortable and filled with unspoken understanding. You finished your cigarettes, the smoke curling up into the night sky, disappearing into the vast expanse. "Ready to go back in?" Cregan asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. "Yeah. But let's promise to do this again. To find these moments, no matter how busy we get."

Cregan smiled, his hand still holding yours. "Deal."

With a final look at the city below, you both turned and headed back inside, the noise and chaos of the party enveloping you once more. But something had changed. There was a connection between you and Cregan now, a shared understanding that made the weight of your responsibilities a little lighter.

As you mingled with the other guests, you caught Cregan's eye across the room. He raised his glass in a silent toast, a promise of more moments like the one you'd just shared. You smiled, raising your own glass in return.

For tonight, you were heirs to empires, but in that brief interlude on the balcony, you were just two people finding solace in each other. And that was enough.

Later, as you lay in bed, you thought about the evening's conversation. The idea of running away, of living a simpler life, was still tempting. But more than that, you realized how much you valued the connection you'd found with Cregan.

Maybe you couldn't escape your responsibilities, but you could find ways to cope with them. And maybe, just maybe, you could find more moments like the one you'd shared tonight, moments that made everything else worth it.

With that comforting thought, you drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a little café by the sea and the promise of more nights spent talking and laughing with Cregan Stark.

taglist: @benjicotblckwood

banner credits to: @cafekitsune