#I could count the pixels on this thing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vivalabunbun · 6 months

Text

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.

2K notes · View notes

askew-d · 5 months

Text

KAGEHINA FICS MASTERLIST

• ⭐️🎖️ jellyfish, by mysterytwin — hinata makes a list of things to do before graduation; and that includes confessing his feelings to kageyama. a wonderful story, so heartwarming. my utmost favorite.

• ⭐️ in transit, by mysecretfanmoments — while riding the bus together, hinata begins to discover about his feelings for kageyama. absolutely lovely.

• dare, by majesticartax — kagehina’s chosen to play a dare in which they end up locked in a room, and, of course, revelations ensue. this one made me scream lots. rated m!

• you know all the strings (and know just how to tug them), by artemisia_hq — 5 + 1 story about kageyama being whipped and can’t say no and hinata saying yes. domestic fluff.

• like always, by artemisia_hq — during their last walk home together, hinata becomes aware of his feelings and decides to do something about it. short story, yet so cute!

• ⭐️ i wanna know you, and i wanna love you, by momochai — kagehina go on a day together, or better yet, a date; even though they’re not quite aware of it. i was dying throughout all of this, outstanding!

• you’re grabbing my hands like they’re handbars, by mountains_6 — basically tsukishima being a third wheel when the three of them travel to rio, based on the extra bit of the manga, lol. short and endearing.

• 🎖️ a hundred or so hellos, by iwillstillopenthewindow — kageyama reincarnates over and over and hinata continues dying over and over. angst. a lot of angst. but still goddamn beautiful.

• let me in on the open secret too, by switmikan74 — kageyama doesn’t know that he’s dating hinata, until he gets hints from a shoujo manga. that’s so fitting, definitely worth the read!

• highway verse, series by emleewrites — a pixel cars au that i didn’t think it’d catch me until i read it and had dreams about this fantastic universe.

• ⭐️🎖️ if it wasn’t for you, by halfbloom (diphylleias) — in brazil, hinata learns more about relationships and what it means to have a bond with kageyama. got my heart effortlessly. such a delight.

• ⭐️ one more thing, by marks — it’s tsukishima and yamaguchi’s wedding, and kageyama and hinata decide to go together. can i please have more of this? sweet stories like this makes my heart melt, i swear.

• 🎖️⭐️ i can do better, by buu — kagehina compete over everything under the sun, and that includes kissing. and some more. in fact, every kagehina fic by this author hits. and this one… made me feel stuff. rated m!

• ⭐️ no angels could beckon me back, by lilacnoctua — heated arguments lead kagehina to heated moments with each other. a hot story with great development. loved every part of it.

• from this day forward, by emleewrites — kageyama tries to propose; it goes as badly as you can expect. so funny, seriously! i could easily recommend every fic by this author too, as well as esselle’s, but i’m gonna list my favorites anyway, so hang on!

• soft serve, by tothemoon — kagehina drives an ice cream truck to help karasuno; as one might expect, feelings are involved in between. summer fic, brings a ton of good emotions!

• 🎖️ famous v-league players make fools of themselves on twitter dot com, by crone_zone — the appearance of one hinata shouyou through the eyes of twitter users. pure comedy and it’s a whole show. gorgeous!

• room to grow, by mysecretfanmoments — things are different in their third year and hinata’s still learning how to deal with it. ah, young love! the best kind.

• raining verse, by emleewrites — kageyama’s cursed to be a kitten, hinata’s the one who finds him. i love a magic realism au, so imagine my happiness while reading this.

• future’s kiss, by mervousmer — kageyama somehow travels to the future for a moment, and hinata’s there, all grown-up. come on, time travels also have my heart! this one’s cute as hell.

• ⭐️ dethroned, by setkia — kageyama counts his victories and losses against hinata in his mind. what a gem! short and fabulously creative.

• saffron and cayenne pepper, by dontsaycrazy — neighbours kagehina: one only knows how to set the kitchen on fire and the other one’s actually a chef, what could work between them? everything, that’s the answer. a hit!

• on quarantining together…, series by winterey — social media kagehina making lives while on quarantine. fun and addictive!

• conflict of interest, by zukushou — more of social media kagehina, this time with journalists thinking they’re rivals when they’re actually… yknow *gay for each other*. just everything i’d ever want for them.

• ⭐️ with suds in your eyes (and a smile on your lips), by hqkrys — established relationship kagehina take a messy shower together. overall just endless fluff, which melts my heart!

• a bento for dr. kageyama, by zukushou — hinata leaves food for his husband and causes gossip at the hospital said husband works in. hahaha, this is definitely terrific.

• the best laid hands, by mysecretfanmoments — kageyama doesn’t even know how to deal with his own romantic life, so it’s best if other people don’t ask for advice. but what if it’s an advice for hinata? you never know :)

• ⭐️ better than firewhiskey, by mysterytwin — hogwarts au with kagehina! someone should definitely find this author by the way and give them a big hug. i want to. they rock.

• chase the light, my love, by thebeaming sun — kageyama planning to propose and earning support of his teammates. established relationship kind of thing that makes me smile.

• hinata and kageyama terrorise a simple interviewer, satorou masashi, series by call_me_j — story told in the form of an interview, including post time-skip kagehina of course. remarkable!

• optical, by kvhottie — kageyama wears glasses; everyone freaks out. do i need to explain more? hella entertaining.

• never doubt i love, by gentle_autumn_rain — jealous hinata thinks kageyama got a boyfriend. he didn’t. love these small misunderstandings that lead to a confession! so good.

• of gentlemen and scoundrels, by mysecretfanmoments — historical au with kageyama as a gentlemen in london and hinata who’s… well, not very much like him. the writing and the sexual tension in this is spectacular!

• ⭐️ save the last dance for me, my prince, by zukushou — prince kageyama and bodyguard hinata, as this fandom deserved. and such a well-developed at that. charming!

• patience, by mistonthelake — surprisingly enough, hinata discovers about kageyama’s crush on him earlier than the man himself. a lesson in being patient.

• wrestle for victory, by emleewrites — after their fateful game, kagehina decides to compete over wrestling. that’s definitely something they’d do and it got me hooked.

• ⭐️ oh we play, in autumn days, by aruariandance — kagehina being silly boys and kageyama getting a phone. is it because he wants to text hinata? that, he’ll never admit. i’d give it a hundred kudos if i could.

• ⭐️ ridiculous, by festivetrickster — yachi has to spend some time with kagehina in their apartment. the way they live just makes me suspicious of their relationship. no, like, this is indeed so ridiculous but i like it so much!

• sunstruck, by orphan account — kageyama gets the help of romero to sort out his relationship with hinata. seeing introverted kageyama slowly but surely trust his teammate and idol with issues like this makes me proud.

• ⭐️ sun above your shoulders, by longleggedgit — even in an universe where they go to different high schools, kagehina meet each other anyway. everything’s delightful here!

• the missing piece, by akaashism (acciomerlin) — kageyama deals with the changes in hinata. just adorable, i giggled a lot.

• the trouble with soulmates, by navybluewings — our sweet cupid hinata’s journey to get soulmates bonds fixed! this au rocks.

• five star review, by emleewrites — hinata’s hired to paint kageyama’s wall and they start a “friendship” out of it. amazing to see this unfold, so nicely done.

• 🎖️ for the best of all possible worlds, by tinygumdrops (curryramyeon) — an au about kagehina’s relationship journey from across countries, including letters. they meet while being apart and we see it unfold. is there anything better than this? majestic!

• at the tip of your nose, by cloesh_scribbles — where kageyama’s obsessed with eskimo kisses and hinata’s obsessed with him. please help me after this, the fluff killed me.

• the video series, by sunnyslipper — kageyama and hinata breaking the internet over and over with their videos. funny and spot on!

• alexa, play waking up in vegas, by attackofthezee (noxlunate) — kageyama and hinata get married accidentally. the thing is, i can totally imagine them doing this. they’re absurd and lovely.

• meat bun is a love language, by icecreamromantic — kageyama decides to confess using meat buns. come on, it’s stupidly perfect!

• slipping through sand, by majesticanna — an au in which kagehina meet in brazil. just so warm, waaah!

• high dose, by akaashism (acciomerlin) — hinata convinces kageyama that, because of a health issue, he needs kisses. i swear, these silly boys will break me. this is excellent.

• why do i feel like it’s (fake) love, by izucaii — hinata and kageyama pretend to be boyfriends while in brazil. a gorgeous fake-relationship story!

• ⭐️ a best man’s worse problems, by villainphilia — tsukishima, the best man for kagehina’s wedding, prepares his speech while reminiscing how the two dumbasses got together. all of this is just marvellous!

• five proposals, by dayoldcupcake — kageyama proposing, hinata saying no. done with the intent of giving me diabetes. chef’s kiss!

• ⭐️ plain as day, by emleewrites — hinata has a low self-esteem and kageyama tries to make him realize how wonderful he is. i died and came back. truly stunning.

• kageyama tobio reads thirst tweets (unedited), by popcornpearl — after making a bet, kageyama reads thirsty tweets and tries not to blush. it’s harder than he expected. rated m!

• i’m lucky to have you, zukushou — the famous “just woke up high in anestesia and i can’t remember my own partner” trope. pure comedy, love this for them.

• ⭐️ the obvious is at eye level (but i might need a step stool), by dr_awkward221 — hinata watching sakusa’s relationship with miya and slowly realizing things about his own his kageyama. i loove this one, it’s unbearably good.

• ⭐️🎖️ let the light out, by uhohshouto — kagehina make a bet in which the other one must ask for something of the loser. kageyama wants a kiss… and then something more. seriously though, i can’t believe this; it’s a wonderful story, so entertaining. rated e!

• epic, by esselle — a surfing au with hinata as an instructor and kageyama as an arrogant professional. this charming scenario surely made my day.

• let’s take this offline, by pas_dautres — office employees kagehina who meet through emails and reports. i had to add this, because it’s nice, surely worth the read.

• 🎖️ these hands of time, these hands of mine, by fireheartaw — kageyama being introspective over their story together and apart. light angst maybe, but the narrative’s so interesting and captivating.

• discordant, by majesticanna — academic rivals kagehina meet again as professors. so short but so sweet!

• 🎖️⭐️ pursuit verse, series by emleewrites — a gambler hinata and an attorney kageyama based on the ace attorney game. never played the game. but the story? deserves to be printed. if you never read it, you need to. hear me out: you need to.

• ⭐️ getting it right, by akaashism (acciormerlin) — play pretend boyfriends for miwa who end up actually having domestic moments and finding out more about their feelings, hehe.

• know you better, by mysterytwin — bakery worker kageyama and spell shop owner hinata in a world of magic! great development and very poetic.

note that this is based on the fics i’ve known since i entered the fandom and that i truly enjoy. either they’re famous or not famous, i’m just adding them here for my future self contentment and for those who, just as me, wanted a full list of kagehina fics upon getting engaged in haikyuu media.

if you think i should add more and if you have recs for me too, i’m accepting them! thank yoou.

last update: 3/3/24

#haikyuu #kageyama tobio #kagehina #hinata shouyou #kagehina fic #kagehina fic rec

684 notes · View notes

mo0nfairy · 11 months

Text

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ UNCHAINED MELODY, PART TWO !

summary :: surviving raccoon city together, you catch the affections of leon kennedy, ada wong, jill valentine, and carlos oliveira. six years later, you reunite with them and realize their obsession with you has increased tenfold.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 5.8k

content warnings :: mdni! yandere!leon, yandere!ada, yandere!jill, yandere!carlos, sexual themes, stalking, gore, nightmares, weapons, breaking and entering, drugging/drug mentions, nudity, kidnapping, noncon touching, jill is a greasy rat basically lol.

jill valentine's yandere traits are . . .

possessive, dominant, & stalker

──── Jill Valentine hates the taste of coffee. Yet still, her kitchen cabinets are full of it.

Littered around her apartment, there are mugs stained with days-old coffee. The caffeinated scent clings to the walls and makes her stomach coil. A mess of documents sits on her cluttered desk. The October wind whistling through the window sends a few pieces fluttering down to the dirty floorboards. 3:57 AM is read on a digital clock in its neon red hues; the flickering lamp light on the desk illuminates the mess of broken pencils, coffee stains, and case files. With an accelerated heartbeat and heaving breaths, Jill hastily analyzes the CCTV footage on her jagged laptop.

Every person, every street sign, every single pixel on the screen. Maybe, just maybe, she'll find you among this mess.

Other tabs display missing persons' documents, reports from private investigators, and checkpoints on satellite imagery. Ms. 'I don't mind a little detective work' has spent every day of the past six years doing this exact thing. Weaving through any bit of information and manipulating every resource she could get her hands on. Everything she does is to try and find the one thing that matters more than anything to her.

Y/N L/N. The name she will never forget.

Jill remembers your sultry body, your delicious gratitude, your sweet blood staining her clothes; she will never forget how you sparked the beginning of her life in Raccoon City. She will always remember how she didn't know what emotion was until she met you and how Raccoon City was the best night of her life because of it. A raw flurry of fuzzy, warm feelings embraced her, as well as the cold fingertips of rage, envy, and fear. It was messy, but it was so, so beautiful.

There is nothing now.

Her worst fear had come alive. To continue to live every day just for the sake of living while desperately trying to fill the empty void within her — it had all come back in a flash. Just when she had wrapped her fingers around happiness, it was torn from her grasp like candy from a baby. And if you had asked where Jill thought she would be six years after that night, the image she would paint for you would be far more illuminative than the life she now lives. A rundown studio apartment infested with rats and cockroaches, but she'd be able to endure any germ-infested danger with the light of her life beside her. Every day would be spent deconstructing your facade and dissecting the beautiful person you are; every day would be spent dragging her fingertips along every inch of your body, blithely taking note of what makes you blush and squirm.

She would be happy. And you would be, too.

Jill is now stuck in a cave. Adorned in darkness and devoid of life. In a city she doesn't know, becoming a person she doesn't recognize — she can't fathom how disastrous her life had become since she lost you. She can't fathom the idea of you not being here with her, to begin with.

Skimming through the fatuous clues laid out before her, Jill takes a peek at the satellite imagery in one browser and something catches her eye. A habilitation, of some sort. Located in the middle of nowhere, overwhelmed with heaps of endless trees. She searches for any further information regarding this strange building, only to find there is no trace of this place even existing. It is certainly odd, yes, but does not relate to you in any shape or form. With that, she lets her curiosity go and occupies her time with more productivity.

Another hour drifts by. Waiting for a returning email from one of the numerous private investigators she hired, Jill reads through medical records in hopes of finding anything reminiscent of you. Maybe by some brush of luck, you'd still be treated for your broken arm six years later. However, this mysterious building still fogs up her mind. How could such a large structure be built with not a single trace existing? Surely, someone would have stumbled upon the property by now, right? Snuffing out her pride, Jill gathers the coordinates and sends them out to Tyrell. With his technology skills, he may be able to uncover something about the strange place. Even though Jill knows in her heart it's nothing but a dead end, it's still something, nonetheless. And after all this time of relentlessly doing the same thing over and over again, she has become desperate.

A sudden flare of lethargy envelops Jill. With her persistent intake of caffeine, this isn't anything abnormal. She's prone to just crashing at her bed, her desk, or sometimes, even onto the floor. With drooping eyelids, Jill folds her arms on the table and rests her head against them. There's no harm in a little shut-eye, right?

What she didn't expect is to be abruptly woken by a gentle tap on her shoulder. And she most certainly didn't expect to find you standing there beside her. Saccharine-sweet smile, skin clean of any zombie-induced grime — you're at her side wearing an old S.T.A.R.S. hoodie with your upper thigh peeking out of your sweatshorts (inevitably sending a flare of heat to Jill's core). In your hand is a cold beer, a prize for Jill after the hours of hard work she has endured at her desk. And she is just in pure awe at the sight of you. She discards the beverage in favor of pulling you into her lap. You swing your arms around her neck like a newlywed bride with that damned, heart-stuttering smile of yours growing from the sudden act of affection.

Jill's eyes peer down to your hips. Her rough fingers fidget with the elastic band of your shorts, subtly asking you to let her hands wander further. Her touch wanders beneath the hem of the ragged sweatshirt you were wearing. When her hand makes contact with the warm skin of your stomach, a gasp escapes her chest at the intimate contact. You gently place your soft hand atop hers, causing her vision to go hazy with clouds of lust, devotion, and rapture. You're here; you're alive. Her sweet, adoring, blue butterfly has returned to her and Jill can't handle the sheer euphoria that comes from the revelation.

It isn't until she feels your chest begin to stutter from silenced coughs does she finally return her focus to your face. Only to find your eyes had gone milky white, your skin growing purple in rotting hues, and decomposing gashes opening themselves all over your body as they gush out with puss. The wheezes protruding from you accelerate into harsh gags. A splurge of red-hot blood then spurts from your mouth and onto Jill. She has no time to revel in the burning fantasy of being covered in your bodily fluids, she can only stare in complete horror at what has befallen her beloved. You then push yourself off of Jill, to where you begin convulsing on the ground like a dying insect. It is horrifying. And to suddenly be without your touch after so long of hungrily basking in it — Jill hates to admit how badly it hurts her.

A sharp cry accompanied by a horrified gasp permeates the lonely air. Reality suddenly washes over her and Jill buries her face into her hands with a sigh of defeat. Another nightmare. Another fucking nightmare of millions. She should've known it'd be too good to be true; she should've known that a perfect life with you by her side was nothing more than a fantasy. And God, does it fucking kill her.

Stepping away from her disordered desk, she walks to the dresser sitting on the other side of the room. Jill digs through the unfolded mess of dirty laundry until she's finally able to dish out what she intended. The old S.T.A.R.S. sweatshirt you had worn in her dream. Despite the loose threads protruding from the hems and gaping holes littered against the fabric, you made it look like a piece of high fashion etched with velvet and silk. She wraps the article of clothing around her figure and snuggles into the article, pretending it's you she is holding in her arms. Jill then crouches down at the foot of her bed, plucking out a dilapidated shoe box from underneath. Inside is a singular item that has and always will remain the most important object Jill has ever possessed.

A bloodied bandage. Covered with dirt and riddled with age, this singular bandage was what she had taken from Kendo's first aid kit six years ago.

She remembers how your skin felt beneath her as she wrapped the bandage around you; she remembers how she slyly slipped the garment into her pocket when Carlos was caught up in tending to your broken arm. Jill presses the bandage to her cheek, pretending it's your comforting hand against her face instead of some tattered piece of gauze. If only she had known what the future had in store for her that night, she would have never let you step foot onto that train. Hell, she would have never let you step foot out of her sight ever again. Until the end of time, however, Jill will continue to search the world over and over again to find you. You are the only thing keeping her alive, after all.

The quick tune of an email alert brings Jill out of her lovesick, grief-burdened daze. She discards the precious cargo in her hands back to its home beneath her bed, then returns to her desk. In the three hours Jill had been knocked out cold, Tyrell had managed to bypass the security system that was "a bitch to get through" (his exact words). In the email, he provided several files that contain security system footage from cameras scattered around the area. Feverishly, Jill double-clicks the links and analyzes the pixelated footage. She knows what she is looking for, and despite the voice of logic on her shoulder whispering of what a waste of time this was, she still persevered.

A hallway filled with bustling doctors, a garden filled with meditating patients, and a cafeteria swarming with warm food and activity. Lastly, the final file shows a library. Unlike the others, the peaceful environment was scattered with little activity. The only form of life in the room was a few faces around who had their noses buried in books. A figure then ventures around the corner of a bookshelf, a stack of books held tight to their chest. Through the mess of pixels, a familiar face comes clear into frame.

You.

Something bright fills her chest. Hope, relief, elation. It bubbles in Jill's heart and paralyzes her entire body. The only thing she can do is stare at the screen with her jaw on the floor. You are her butterfly, beautiful and fleeting. She's been nothing but a worm trying to squirm its way through the soil and into the sky. Now, however, she can finally hold your hand in hers; she can finally fly with you at her side. Her teeth chatter behind her smile as she leans closer to the laptop, watching intensely. You merely bring the collage of books to a lone couch and flip open the page of a new book. Little do you know the sheer effect such a mild action would do to the woman you presumed to be dead. Her thumbs grasp the corners of the monitor, caressing the surface as if it were your skin beneath her.

"I found you... I found you...!" Tears seep from her eyes uncontrollably. Finally, this void within her is filled.

Pure laughter, a sound she hasn't expressed in years, bounces from her tongue with glee. It's as if a symphony of angels had invaded Jill's apartment, pervading the lonely silence with euphonious melodies. They sing and cheer for her success, promises of a new beginning filled with light and laughter tumbling from their lips. It appears as any other CCTV footage you'd see, but to Jill, she has never seen anything so breathtaking, so magnificent. Jill rewinds the footage for what may be the umpteenth time, just to ensure this wasn't another dream she'd inevitably wake up from. Fortunately, it is the truth. And she can't refrain the pure joy from escaping her body.

Despite her heart pulling at her strings in an attempt to give in to her desires, Jill knows she must learn more before she can finally get you back. As desperately as she wants to storm the place, guns-a-blazing and all, being messy with her efforts may send her back to square one. Alone, without the one she loves most. The thought itself sends a cold shudder down her spine. She pours herself another cup of coffee. This will be the last one, she guarantees. From thereon, Jill begins her research into this lion's den. Located directly in the middle of the woods, this mysterious habitat began its organization exactly six years ago. Mere months after the incident in Racoon City, to be precise. With a few more hours of digging, the truth practically slaps Jill across the face.

This "sanctuary" is just a facade for Umbrella.

Even after all these years, that damned corporation still has its bloodied claws sunk into every fraction of Jill's life. They had been keeping survivors of their personalized epidemic safe in this establishment, under the guise of 'healing them through these tough times.' In reality, it was to ensure they kept their mouths shut and Umbrella's mistake could be safely swept under the rug. Seething with rage, Jill asks herself: why not me? Why am I the only exception? The last thing she could ever want is to be held captive by Umbrella of all people, but to be locked up with you? That's a different story.

It doesn't take long for Jill to connect the dots. Her occupation gave her that extra layer of protection against Umbrella. So, she remains untouched. However, with your job as a cashier at a gas station, you weren't as fortunate as Jill. Otherwise, you and she would have spent every day of these past six years at each other's side in euphoric harmony. Jill is sure of it.

The sun begins to set after a long, exasperated day of breaking the immeasurable walls Umbrella had built to protect their precious organization. Jill, heavy-eyed and exhausted, has finally concluded the great mystery that is your disappearance. She takes every penny of her rent money and urgently gives it all to Tyrell in exchange for more security footage. When asked about her desperate efforts, Jill makes the excuse that it is the location of a potential crime scene. And in a way, she isn't wrong. It is about to be.

With footage from every camera of the past month (as well as some good spank bank material for later on), Jill has a firm layout of every nook and cranny within the building. She fawns over the videos of you meditating in the garden and reading the hours away in the library. She also tenses up with jealousy over the clips of you laughing with your friends in the cafeteria and bonding over shared experiences in group therapy. It should be her you're doing all these things with. With a pout, Jill then plans her route on retrieving you. Although she has enough anger within her to tear the entire premise asunder, she is humble enough to recognize the extensive security is out of her element. After hours upon hours of trying to find the best way to carry out her plan, Jill accepts defeat.

As much as she wants to, she cannot do this alone. So, she contacts an old friend.

A simple email that reads "I found them" and Carlos Oliveira is at the door of her apartment within hours. His face sheen with sweat, hands trembling at his side, eyes blown wide in crazed worry. God, it's almost like he ran the entire way here. It isn't until Jill sees his face does the all-too-overwhelming revelation settle. It's time to finally get you back.

Deep in the middle of the woods, Jill and Carlos have nothing but the brimming sunset and heavy-duty flashlights to illuminate their path. A maze of trees and tight security kept the establishment well hidden from any wandering eyes. With swift movements from the two military-trained individuals, they were able to pass all barricades with ease. Out of sight from any cameras and wandering security guards, Jill and Carlos soon make it to a single window that has been left slightly ajar. It was your attempt at enjoying the last gusts of seasonal warmth before Winter arrives. A tame smile forms on their faces at the prospect. You'll be able to enjoy every season forevermore with them at your side. Whether it is your skin glowing beneath the warm haze of summer's heat or cozying up with the other during the harsh chills of Winter. They'll make sure everything is perfect. Just for you.

An ear-piercing screech pervades the late October air as Jill pries the window open. They cringe, wait for the other shoe to fall and bring this plan to its fateful end. But, there is nothing. No blaring alarms there to jeopardize their schemes, no wonderful, perfect you there to run into the arms of your surprise guests and drown them in kisses. Nothing. Continuing attentively, the two manage to slip through the window, where they then find themselves in your bathroom.

Jill and Carlos become entranced with the mere sight of your bathroom and the utilities within. Rested by the sink is your toothbrush, sat beside a tube of toothpaste and accompanied by a clutter of skincare products. Jill shakily brings the brush into her hands, fingers hovering over the bristles with belated breath. Your teeth, your tongue, your spit. Your mouth has been on this item and Jill salivates from the idea alone. Before she can quaff out every bit of you she can garner from the toothbrush, she snaps out of her fantasy and shoves the brush into her pocket. For later use, she assures.

Carlos, however, is trapped tight in his own daze. By the shower, a cluster of damp towels had been leisurely swung upon a towel rack. He takes one into his hands, shivering at the idea of this cloth once making contact with your nude body. Squeezing, the water that seeps from the tight contact and down his fingers causes a pool of vehemence to form within him. Lips trembling in response, Carlos then brings the towel to his face. His warm breath wafted back onto his face as he heavily inhaled the scent still lingering upon the fabric. Oh, Y/N, how he worships you. Carlos imagines how your scent would sit in your body while he drags his lips among the skin of your chest, your stomach, your thighs, and then your-

A harsh smack to his arm brings his thoughts to an abrupt, depressing halt. Just when he was about to indulge his tongue in the taste of what was once on your wet body, Jill had to go and ruin his fun.

The dulcet tune of humming diffuses through the area like a soft fragrance. Whatever libido-stained hysteria these lovesick fools had found themselves in faded away as quickly as it came. Jill feels her heart bloom like a spring flower — your voice. One of your most important attributes her deadbeat brain had so frivolously forgotten. It has finally returned to her. And the way you fill the air with such heavenly sounds is something straight out of a fairytale, the two think to themselves. Like a siren, leading the people who love you more than anything to their inevitable demise. And if they're being honest, the sight of you after six years without you may kill them with its sheer force.

In a way, they were correct. Jill takes a step out of the bathroom and into your kitchen, peering around the corner of a wall to find you on a couch. Your back to her, headphones nestled on your head and book held tight in your hands. Nothing could have prepared her for such a heartwarming, yet gut-wrenching sight. Nodding your head to the tunes blasting in your ears, foot tapping in rhythm against the floor. God, how much more beautiful could you get? How much more can you do to Jill and her sanity by simply existing?

With a deep, shaky inhale, Jill continues with the plan at hand. She tiptoes past the threshold of your living room and ventures further into the kitchen. With gentle, yet expeditious movements, she opens every cabinet and searches through for anything of importance. On the very edge by the stove, Jill opens the cabinet door and finds shelves full of jumbled mugs and different tea flavors. Taking a paranoid glance behind her, she finds Carlos peering around the same corner she had stood behind moments before. And the man is just relishing in the pure sight of you. His eyes drooping and coated in a dreamy luster; his mouth hung agape with the corners curling into a weakened smile. She'd say how pathetic he looked if it weren't for the fact she was in his exact state just seconds ago. With a roll of her eyes, Jill returns to her work in your kitchen.

How clueless you are to what is happening just over your shoulder. Who knew that you catching up on some late-afternoon reading could conjure up such staggering emotions within Jill and Carlos? And who knew that the two people you presumed to be dead had crushed up sedatives and hid them in your teabags?

Mere minutes go by as the two reside in your bathroom, waiting for you to unintentionally complete the next part of their plan. The creaking sound of a door opening halts their enthusiastic exploration of your bathroom. A voice, one that certainly does not belong to you, pervades the air of your home. Apparently, you and this stranger have some plans to go stargazing? Jill and Carlos give a confused, knowing look to each other. Who the fuck is this? Jill buries her unkempt fingernails into the palm of her hand. Clenching her fists inevitably causes moon-shaped scars to form. They're mine, they're mine, they're mine. Her nails soon break through the skin, to where blood oozes into her hands. It seeps down her wrists and onto the white tiles beneath her boots. The faint drum of your footsteps prevents her from acknowledging how she has left a trace of her behind.

Through the crack of the door, Jill finds you entering the kitchen with a thick blanket draped upon your shoulders. Like clockwork, you tread to the cabinet at the far end of the room and begin to make yourself a cup of tea. For the second time that day, Jill gives a harsh smack to Carlos' arm to stop him from inhaling your towels like a depraved junkie and pay attention. The two now watch in trepidation and enthrallment as you go about your nightly routine. Sitting at your rickety kitchen table, watching the kettle steam upon the stove, strolling down memory lane. How can you be so perfect in such simplistic ways?

You inadvertently shape your future by placing the tea bag into the messily painted mug made for you by one of the younglings who survived Raccoon City. A fond smile grows at the thought of them while you pour out the boiling water. You have absolutely no clue what is in store for you by doing this. And to the people standing in your bathroom, it is so endearing.

Taking a small sip as you walk back to the table, a sudden wave of fatigue crashes over you. Your vision doubles, overlapping every perceivable object in front of you into a blurry, distorted mess. The mug falls from your weak hands. It shatters against the floor and the sound reverberates like a blaring alarm. You hear muffled voices, a sharp ringing, and your own panicked breathing. What the fuck is going on? Once your vision goes black, you can barely feel how your numb body splats against the ground. Your hyperventilated gasps decelerate into tame breaths when oblivion finally welcomes you.

The only thing you can do is lay here and hope that when you wake up, whatever welcomes you isn't anything reminiscent of the nightmare you faced six years ago. You hope so.

There are black holes in your memory. Collapsing in your kitchen to being nestled in the backseat of a car. Trying to piece together this puzzle was nothing short of a pipe dream. When you wake, however, you find yourself enveloped in a strange sense of warmth. The senses in your body awaken from your head and travel down to your toes. Almost as if it was rain cascading down a window; as if it was a teardrop coursing down your cheek. From your waist down, you can feel how your nude body is submerged in warm water. You inhale and are overwhelmed by the stench of body soap that perfumes the humid air. Candle lights flicker in their calm hues and bounce against your closed eyelids.

In an attempt to thrash around and escape whatever has taken you from the safety of the sanctuary, your body fails you in your attempts to move. You are completely and utterly paralyzed, much to your dismay. The only control you can accumulate is nothing but a choked whimper that you push out of your throat. The immediate cooing that purrs into your ear from someone behind you causes your blood to run cold. You then sense how your back is pressed against someone's naked chest. The strands of their choppy short hair stick to your sweaty face. Hot breath fans against you as they press long, gentle kisses to your neck.

A bathtub. That's where you have found yourself in. It is romantic, in a disturbing sense. You could almost be convinced this was nothing more than a fulfilling Valentine's Day. A pair of scrawny arms then tighten themselves around your form with possessive constriction. Their chapped lips trail down to your shoulder; their wet tongue adorns the expanse in an array of affection. The intimacy sends a shudder down your skin. Calloused hands grope your chest and indulge themselves in the feeling of your flesh touching theirs, seemingly drunk off of you. The graze of their jagged teeth against you causes a gasp to escape you. A hum of quiet laughter vibrates in the chest of your assailant in response.

"My butterfly, you have no idea how long I have dreamed about this..." The soft tone of their voice lulls you back to sleep. This is getting old, you think once more before unconsciousness envelops you once again.

Jill simply cannot believe it. At this moment, you are here, alone with her. She couldn't imagine a better fantasy if she tried. And in a way, the effect your mere touch has on her made all six years of suffering worth it. Only now, she can scrutinize you completely and thoroughly. As opposed to the zombie-induced nightmare being the only contact she had with you. And your physicality has haunted Jill. She traces the jut of your cheekbone, the curl of your lashes, the texture of your lips. More importantly, she indulges her greedy taste buds in the taste of your mouth-watering skin, your delicious sweat, and your candy-sweet saliva.

Your flavor — never has Jill known she could be transported to such paradisiacal heaven. And never has Jill known she could ever be so... vulnerable.

Vulnerability has always equated to weakness in the eyes of Jill for as long as she's been alive. Trying to swallow the lump in her throat and constrict the overflow of bottled emotions these past six years are certainly no strangers to her. Raccoon City, however, opened the floodgates to a tsunami of revelations. To bask in emotion, to revel in you. Most importantly, to feel you here with her right at this moment. She can discard the facade of a cold heart and thick skin, to where she can embrace the exhilaration that follows with your presence. There will never be a second where Jill isn't thanking the universe profusely for such a wondrous gift.

As much as she disdains the idea of breaking contact with you, the hour spent in such stifling heat would not be good for you. And the prospect of your deteriorating health causes her to persevere through her selfish desires. This doesn't refrain her from being a little too touchy while drying off your body, though. Jill then dresses your unconscious form in a fresh, newly bought pair of fuzzy pajamas (despite the incessant suggestions from Carlos to please have you wear his clothes). The sensation feels like a cloud against your skin that had just been massaged with warm water, loving hands, and ambrosial lotions. So cozy, so cuddly.

With easy effort, Jill nestles you into bed. The late-night brume and heavy rain complement the tranquility within the room, naturally soothing you into a deeper sleep. She then presses a long, sweet kiss to your forehead, whispering a promise of returning soon.

Her gaze and her hand linger on you before returning to the bathroom. While you are now sleeping, Jill sits on the tiled floor of the bathroom and rests her arms against the rim of the tub. Her fingers cascade among the still-wet walls of the tub, shivering over the prospect of your naked self touching the surface just moments before. She takes her index and middle finger into her mouth, lapping her tongue around the digits and cleaning them of any excess of you still left on them. The other hand is used to caress the parts of the bathtub you had sat in before as if she were touching you. And it is just heavenly. Having you beneath her, her tongue tasting every inch of you, all the sounds you would gift her in return. It practically makes her feral with desire.

Shakily sinking her hands into the lukewarm water, it pools in her hands before escaping through the slits of her fingers. Mouth agape, skin gleaming with sweat — the only thing present in Jill's mind is how your flavor has mended with the bathwater. With rapid movements, she scoops some of the water into her palm and slurps the liquid with fervent haste. Six years of her lust-ridden head overcome with these fantasies, Jill has finally come one step closer to turning this dream into a reality. Her eyes fall shut and she lets the reverie flood her body. Wrapping her lips around your sex and adorning it in a mess of her saliva and your essence; every whimper and moan that escapes your mouth making her slick with arousal. After turning your brain into mush, she would then wrap you in her embrace and soothe you to sleep, still preserving the taste of you on her tongue.

Oh, one day. One day...

Birds singing, rain dancing. Once again, it is the first thing you are able to scrutinize once you come out of your state of comatose. The sun has now risen, hidden beneath an array of stormy clouds. Daylight bleeds into the room you have awoken in. A bedroom, as it appears; you are in a bedroom you are oblivious to the location of. With its pristine environment, expensive comforters, healthy plants, and modern decoration scattered around, you can't help but be astonished at how gorgeous it is. A window takes up the entirety of two walls, displaying nothing but miles upon miles of endless forestry. You would assume this was a gorgeous retreat if not for the confusion staining your mind. Have I been kidnapped? The thought bounces back and forth in your brain like a ping-pong ball.

Your original idea of being held captive consists of a dank basement, restraints around your limbs, and a lone mattress on the dirty ground. If you had been kidnapped, it would be nothing as luxurious as this, surely. Had the sanctuary brought you to a new location? Had your friends taken you on some sort of a surprise vacation? What the fuck is going on here!? Trying to venture down memory lane to find out how on Earth you have ended up here, your efforts are unfortunately brought to no avail. All you had done was drink some tea and somehow in the span of twelve hours, it had led you here. The only thing you can do now, however, is find some answers.

Wobbling like a newborn fawn on legs, you try and catch your balance after you attempt to stand. A door stands to the right of you, which you stumble to. Using every fiber of strength in your exhausted body, you try and turn the doorknob. The wall is there to catch you when your body then gives up on you. With a few deep breaths upon collapsing, you fight to regain consciousness and continue to tread forward. You would not let yourself pass out again, you're determined of such.

Upon opening the door, a hallway presents itself to you. The scent of something cooking pervades the air. You only realize you had skipped dinner the previous night when the aroma of natural spices and flavors makes your mouth water. You hear the clanking of pots and pans, as well as the murmur of two strangely-familiar voices. The decorations in the hallway also grasp your attention as you stroll through, tip-toeing past any squeaky floorboards. Numerous other plants sit around the area and picture frames are placed neatly on the walls. The frames are all empty, ready to be filled. It causes a strange chill to course through your body. However, the only thing you should be concerned with right now is receiving some answers. As worrying as it is, the prospect of your kidnapper potentially filling these frames with new pictures of you is irrelevant right now.

Treading forward, you then find yourself on the threshold of the kitchen. And what you find within makes your heart sink to the pit of your stomach.

You catch sight of no other than Jill Valentine and Carlos Oliveira. At the breakfast bar is Jill, whose legs are crossed and resting upon the surface of the counter. Carlos stands by the stove, stirring something delicious in the pan before him. The conversation between them is cut short upon your entrance and the three of you all stare at each other like a group of deer in headlights. Silence sits like a thick stew.

You're the first to break through the quiet.

"What the fuck?"

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 ۫ you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

THE BONUS TRACK !

❝ RECURRING VISIONS

OF SUCH SWEET DAYS . . . ❞

for anyone wondering, this, this, this, this, and this are what i imagined jill and carlos' house to look like. also, i will delve into characters and whatnot in further chapters. so dw!! and thank u!

2K notes · View notes

mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 9 months

Text

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: video calls and masturbation, vibrators and the bathroom sink! (last one is mainly a warning for Bucky)

“I miss you," you whined at your boyfriend, whose face was all you could see on the screen of your phone.

“I miss you too, doll.”

“Then what are you going to do about it?" you challenged his admission.

“What is it that you want from me?”

“I want you to touch me.” Your words came out with a whine. Needy. Desperate.

“Where doll? Where do you want me to touch you?” Bucky asked, seemingly unphased.

“Here,” you pulled down the neckline of your oversized night shirt, exposing your braless cleavage.

“Anywhere else, doll? Show me?”

You smiled slowly, pulling your shirt off over your head, revealing your unbound breasts to the camera. “Sam had better not barge in, Buck.”

“Don’t worry, doll. The door’s locked. No one gets to look at you this way other than me. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

You looked at him with a bit of confusion, before you remembered the conversation you'd had with him a few weeks prior, about how well people responded to the title he had been given after he had been drafted. “Yes… Sergeant.”

“Good girl. Now be a doll and see how hard those beautiful nipples of yours can get for me.”

“You want me to touch myself?” you asked innocently.

“It’s going to have to be you, my love. Unless you’re willing to wait tillI get home.”

“And when will that be?”

“Well, if we’re estimating by Sam’s cautiousness, then probably won’t be back for another week.”

You groaned dramatically. “But Buck, I couldn’t possibly wait that long. I need you nooooow,” you exaggerated your pout and dragged out your vowels.

“Go on, doll. Don’t keep me waiting. Believe me, I want this just as much as you do.”

“Not enough to come back home and get me off though,” you said petulantly.

“Stop sulking, doll.” His tone was suddenly more stern. “Or else I’m going to have to punish you.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised and slightly amused by his sudden authoritative behavior. Not once had Bucky ever tried to tell you what to do.

“How exactly do you propose to do that, Buck? From all the way over there!” you teased.

“Oh I can think of a few things, doll.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Well for one, I could make sure you don’t get any pleasure at all when I get home.”

“You wouldn’t?” you asked, incredulously.

“Doll, I could, and I would.” The glint in his eye was clear despite the slightly pixelated screen. “Or if you’re insisting on behaving like a brat, we might have to resort to some spanking.”

Your face flushed and a pool of wetness collected between your legs at Bucky’s words. It turned you on more than you ever thought possible. You’d never heard Bucky suggest something like this before and it made you wonder if there was anything else that he hadn’t yet shared with you.

“Now, why don’t you be a doll and touch yourself for me. I want to see those beautiful nipples clearly on this tiny screen.”

You propped your device onto the wireless charging stand and angled it towards you so Bucky had an unobstructed view of your magnificent breasts as you kneaded and massaged them, pinching your nipples until they felt as hard as the peaked mountains they now resembled. You leaned your shoulder against the padded headboard of your bed, legs crossed on the mattress for comfort and stability.

Bucky moaned appreciatively, eyes glued to the screen as he enjoyed the show you were giving him.

“That’s my girl, are you feeling good?”

“So good, Bucky.”

“Better than when I touch you?” he taunted lightly.

“Nothing compares to how you touch me, Buck.”

“You sure do know how to make a guy feel appreciated.”

“You like what you see? 'Cause you’re breathing kinda hard there.”

“Yeah, doll, I love what I see. Trying to imagine how my special ladies are feeling.”

You bit your lip then pouted, “But I thought I was your special lady.”

“You’re my best girl.”

His old-fashioned charm made you smile.

"Well how about giving your best girl something to work with? You've never been afraid to show me your chest before."

"That's usually because you're the one taking off my clothes for me, doll," Bucky chuckled, as he pulled his black tee over his head with one hand. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic," you said as dryly as you could before your face broke into a massive smile. Admiring Bucky’s well defined pecs and abs was one of the highlights of your intimate relationship with him. His Adonisesque physique would be the envy of most mortal men, and the knowledge that he kept it all hidden except for your pleasure was an aphrodisiac in and of itself.

Bucky sighed wistfully. "You look stunning."

"Guess you like what you see, huh?" You cupped your breasts with both hands, giving them a few more wanton squeezes before rising up onto your knees and peering at your phone screen. "What's going on down there, Buck?"

Bucky tried to suppress a smile as you squinted into the camera, trying to move onto a position, as if the motion would make more of him visible to you.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Obviously I would. That's why I asked!" You rolled your eyes and sighed dramatically. "Are you touching yourself?" You had an inkling that Bucky was palming himself over the sweats he was sporting as sleep wear.

"Maybe," Bucky shrugged, trying to sound evasive. It wasn't very successful.

"That's not fair, Buck."

"Nothing's fair about this, doll."

"Buuuuck," you whined. "Come oooonnn."

"Tell me what you want, doll."

"I want to see."

"What do you want to see?"

"I want to see you, Buck. I need to see you. To know what I'm missing. God, I wish I could feel you right now."

"Where, doll? Where do you want to feel me?"

"I want you inside me, Buck. I want your hands on my body. I need you touching me," you sighed, your hand rubbing yourself over your satin shorts.

"You getting yourself nice and wet for me?"

"I'm sure I’d do better if you were doing it for me." You pushed your palm against your crotch a little more roughly, reveling in the pleasure you felt from the friction. "Or if you show me how far you've gotten."

"Is this some kind of competition to you, doll?"

"You want to make it one?"

"See who cums first?"

"I mean, I still think it's cheating because you're just sitting there with your pants on. I mean you get to see all this!" You motioned towards your top less torso as you spoke.

"Fine," Bucky huffed before your view on the tiny screen jolted to face the ceiling as Bucky rose from the armchair where he had been sitting. "Gimme a sec, doll."

The screen went dark as Bucky shuffled around. You waited less than patiently, pushing the lace and satin further and further inside you in an attempt to chase your climax.

"It's been more than a second," you complained.

You heard a grunt of disapproval and more shuffling before you caught sight of your boyfriend again. He had made his way into the bathroom and was propping you up on the tiny porcelain sink.

"How's that, doll?

"It's about time," you moaned as your fingers ghosted over your clit. "I'm more than ready, you know."

"I know. Wait for me." He pushed down on the waistband on his sweats until his hardening member sprang forwards to greet you.

"There's my favorite soldier," you tilted your head and tucked your lower lip under your front teeth. "I missed Sarge!" you said coyly.

Bucky rolled his eyes at your reference to his cock.

"Ready to follow orders?" You spoke, keeping your voice quiet and seductive.

"Who are you talking to, doll? Me or Sarge" Bucky asked, sarcastically.

"I think Sarge could use a little more attention. Bucky, you want to give him a helping hand?"

Bucky couldn't help but groan as he wrapped his flesh hand around his semi erect member. Whether the groaning was his disapproval of your attempts at seduction or the pleasure of that initial touch as he wrapped his fingers around himself, you had no idea. He squeezed at the base before giving his shaft a few firm strokes until his tip kissed the skin below his navel. Bucky grunted softly, as precum leaked from his length.

It was driving you insane, just sitting by and watching, listening to your boyfriend making those noises as he slowly coated his length with precum, making the slide of his palm easier.

Finally he looked up at you with a smirk. "Your turn doll. Lose the shorts."

"Need to be careful. Might make a mess on the bed and you're not here to clean it up."

"Show me. Show me how wet you are."

You rolled your eyes at him, a blush staining your heated cheeks. It didn't take you long to push your shorts down, shimmying them down your hips and over your knees until they slipped over your feet and onto the floor out of sight.

"Come on, doll. Shake a leg!"

"Buuuuck!" you cried, exasperated. "It took you long enough, be patient!"

Bucky laughed at your incensed state as he stood in front of the camera idly stroking his cock. "I want to see you."

A small smirk spread across your lips as your fingers found your exposed folds. They were already coated in your arousal making the entry of your fingers between the warmth of these lips effortless. Your fingertips brushed over your clit making you gasp, before you pushed them inside you, collecting as much of the fluid on your fingers. The way they felt inside you was a tease, barely a prelude to what Bucky normally provided for you. Today, however, you would have to make do without him. Slowly, you withdrew your digits bringing them to your mouth and sucked them dry, eyes closed as your tongue swirled around them.

"See how wet I am for you and you're not even here to taste me."

Bucky shivered slightly at the thought of tasting you. His tongue shot out, licking his lips at the mere thought of you on them.

"Oh God, doll, I want you so bad," Bucky moaned. His voice over the last speaker sounded more gravelly than normal and it turned you on more than you thought possible.

You pushed your fingers back inside you, watching Bucky on your phone screen, matching your movements to the rhythm with which Bucky was stroking himself. For a minute or two, you both watched each other panting and moaning, but you were starting to feel a little frustrated.

"It's not enough Bucky. Need you," you whined.

Bucky’s laugh was so low that you almost missed it because of the sound of blood rushing in your ears.

"Don't worry, doll. I got you. Open the bottom drawer for me."

"What?" You stopped pumping your fingers to look at Bucky with confusion.

"Bedside cupboard. Bottom drawer. Open." Bucky kept his directions simple, letting your aroused and addled brain to catch up to his train of thought.

You withdrew your fingers, lingering for a second to caress your clit.

"Don't get distracted," Bucky scolded lightly. He was still moving his hand firmly up and down his swollen length, a smirk on his face and a glint of hidden excitement in his eyes.

"Buck, what's in the drawer?"

"Open it!"

You reached down to the drawer handle and Bucky’s smile got bigger. He loved seeing you face down but he knew he was going to enjoy your reaction to the little gift he had left behind for you.

He had removed the plastic wrapping and placed it into a gift box. All that was required from you was to lift the lid. The pretty pink bow adoring the box was a mere garnish but it made you happy and it very nicely matched the color of his present.

You gasped as you stared down at the magenta vibrator which was exactly your boyfriend's size. As you picked it up, your fingers accidentally pushed the button and it started buzzing happily in your hand. The salacious sounds that left your lips had Bucky's cock throbbing with need. He got off on the melody of your moans, watching you come undone because of him.

"Do you like it?"

You nodded, your breathing shallow and pupils dilated.

"I wanted you to have something for when I'm not there to take care of you."

"Aww, Buck. Thank you," your voice was quiet but earnest.

"Wanna give it a go, doll? There is a tiny bottle of lube in there if it will help."

"You just think of everything, don't you?"

"Gotta make sure my best girl is taken care of when I'm not around."

"I'd prefer if you were to take care of me. But thank you Buck, this is very thoughtful."

You grabbed the travel sized lube bottle and coated the vibrator generously.

"Ready?" Bucky asked, watching your reaction with bated breath.

You turned on the device to its lowest setting and rubbed it over your folds. It already felt delectable, and you closed your eyes trying to imagine it was Bucky who was touching you.

"Eyes on me, doll."

Immediately you snapped your eyes open to look at your boyfriend.

"That's right, look at me. Everything you feel right now is because of me."

You pushed the toy between your folds, pressing it against your sensitive nub. Humming, you mumbled your pleasure. "So good."

"Why do you feel so good, doll?"

"Because of you, Bucky. Always you."

The waves of ecstasy were building steadily, like a rising tide, threatening to overcome you. You flipped up the setting, letting the vibrator do its job. Within minutes you were a whimpering mess, writhing under the strain you were applying to your throbbing clit. The pressure inside was rising, like a flood pushing against a dam until the walls finally cracked and your climax overflowed, drowning you in euphoria.

As the rapture of your orgasm ebbed away, you heard Bucky panting softly. You glanced over at him for his reaction. He had gone back to palming himself but his eyes stayed on you, albeit slightly glassy.

"You're not done already, are you?" he asked.

You mumbled incoherently for a moment before pulling yourself back to reality. "Sooo sensitive."

"I know, doll," Bucky cooed at you. "But don't you want to know how I feel inside you?"

"S'not you," you pouted.

"Then do it for me. Do it because I need to see you, I need to hear you, I need it."

His words were greedy, like needed to see you coming undone with his gift to achieve his own release. How could you deny Bucky this simple request? Especially when his voice was dripping with lust.

"Do it, darling. I know you can take it. Just like you take me so well."

You picked up the pink gadget and slipped it inside you, hissing slightly as electric sensations from your clit made you twitch slightly.

"Show me, doll, show me how good you are, how good I feel inside you." He urged you to continue lust-filled eyes on you as he touched himself.

The desire in his voice had you craving more. You pushed vibrator deeper inside you, looking to Bucky for his approval.

"Faster, doll."

You complied, pumping the silicone shaft faster, reveling in the fantasy of being railed by your beautiful boyfriend. Soft whimpers left your lips as you imitated his movements and pace.

"You sound so good."

"Bucky," you whined as that familiar feeling crept up on you.

"Tell me, doll. Tell me how good I feel inside you," he begged, desperately thrusting into his fist.

"So good, Buck. Only you make me feel good."

Your walls fluttered around the gift he has left you to be his proxy. It oscillated diligently inside you filling you with an insatiable desire and desperation to reach your zenith.

"I'm not going to last much longer, darling. Not if you keep making those be-beautiful noises for me," Bucky huffed, his breaths coming out fast and shallow.

"All for you, Buck. Just you."

"Doll," Bucky gasped.

Buck, I - I'm gonna, I'm c-"

You groaned and gripped the duvet, arching your back as your second orgasm engulfed you.

Bucky’s metal fist gripped the ceramic sink harder as his body tensed, losing himself in the bucking of his hips. He rutted into his hand, finally losing control to the sounds of your climax. Hot, white spurts shot of his tip as he came, covering his phone and the camera with his cum.

As the first few drops coat the camera, you hear a loud crack and your eyes snap into focus. Unfortunately, Bucky’s release is completely obstructing your view.

"Umm, Buck? What just happened?" You grabbed your phone and brought it closer to your face.

Bucky stood motionless with a few pieces of crumbling ceramic in his vibranium fist, his flesh hand still wrapped around his sensitive cock.

"Nothing! Everything’s fine." Bucky bit his lower lip before a soft laugh escaped his lips.

"I heard a crack!" You felt a little panicked by the noise.

"Umm, I might have broken the sink when I… you know."

"That good, huh?" You were finally able to relax and laugh when you heard the sheepish tone of his voice.

Bucky's face came back into view, albeit slightly distorted. He had picked his phone and tried to wipe the camera clean.

"Not as good as when I'm in you, doll," he smirked at you.

"I still miss you, you know that right?"

"I know. I still miss you too. But I'd better go and figure out how to deal with this."

You giggled quietly before hanging up and leaving Bucky to clean up his mess. You made a mental note to avoid the bathroom sink when having sex with Bucky in future.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes x you

813 notes · View notes

sink-me-in-your-ocean · 8 months

Text

𝔊𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔥 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰 III

What would it be like to sext/send nudes to the Ghouls and Papa Copia?

Prompt by the magnanimous @endhisbloodlineinmyesophagus

NSFW/Suggestive below the cut.

Copia:

Count on this man to ruin the mood, not by his own accord (although he does get flustered)

It’s because of him misspelling things/not knowing how to work a phone

It barely matters though when you’ve got him hot and bothered and you know he’ll be thinking of you all day

You sent him a photo of your juicy thighs, pressed together from your seated position. Your garter belt just barely peeking out from underneath your short skirt.

𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚘 𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝙳𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝙳𝚄𝙲𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶

Ducking, my heart?

𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙳𝚄𝙲𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙳𝚄𝙲𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙳𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜

I’m fucking crying 😂

𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚎?

(You can practically hear him cursing in Italian, getting mad at the stupid phone.)

I’ll come by later to teach you how to fix autocorrect

𝙱𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝

Swiss:

If you send Swiss a nude just know he’s smiling devilishly

Tries to lick his phone/bite his phone

Just feral things

Wishes he could climb inside his phone and kiss the pixels of your body

He immediately goes wherever he can and strips down to send you an equally racy reply

You almost drop your phone at his response. There’s Swiss in all his naked glory, standing proudly in a mirror. Fuuuuck.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝙸’𝚖 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝

You didn’t give me any warning! Someone could have been looking over my shoulder!

If they were I’m sure they would also like what they saw

You’re incorrigible

Idk what that means But I’ll take it as a compliment 😏

🙄 ... What are you doing right now? I need to see you

I’m getting ready for a ritual now but if we make it fast…

Say less 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♂️

Phantom:

His reaction to receiving a nude from you is best described in two words:

Cartoon character

His eyes are bugging out and his heart is beating out of his chest

He practically drops his phone upon seeing the explicit photo you sent

I think I'm having a heart attack

Surprise 😽 did you like it?

When he doesn't reply, you actually get a little anxious (like, did he actually die?), but then it sounds like someone slams into your door and you about jump out of your skin.

You wrap your silk robe around yourself, barely getting it tied to answer the rabid banging at the door.

“Phantom! You’re all sweaty! Wait, did you run here?”

“Couldn’t. Stop.” He wheezes, “Had. To. See. You.” He collapses in a heap on the floor.

“Well you didn’t have to sprint here!”

He is still panting minutes later before he composes himself and grins up at you wickedly, “And you, vixen, didn’t have to send me photos of you naked, but here we are.”

You've got a long night ahead of you.

Sodo/Dewdrop:

You didn’t think much of the picture you took

It was provocative, sure, but not explicit

Dewdrop thinks differently though

He’s a sucker for a tease

Boy is off his leash going feral

Got any more? 🔥

You want more?

Fuck, yes

You send him another picture, this one showing more of your soft skin than the last.

Fuck me

When and where?

All day and I don't care

Bet

He pings your location, he’s on his way.

Rain:

You send him a text and a photo of yourself to accompany it

Rain’s phone is a lil slow though, so he only sees your text first

It’s not his fault

But it is his fault that he refuses to upgrade his phone...

I need your help, I fell out of my clothes 😏

Your phone screen lights up. Rain is calling.

You answer in a sensual voice, “Rain? Like what you s-?”

He interrupts you immediately, “You fell?!? Are you okay?!”

“Wait, what?”

He yells again, “Your text!!”

“Oh,” You pause, looking down at your message, “The photo I sent, did you get that?”

“Why would you send me a photo if you fell?”

An exasperated sigh escapes you, “Just wait.”

His phone pings, the picture message coming through finally. He sees a sultry photo of you, bare, in front of the mirror in your bedroom.

“Rain? Are you there?”

He spoke again after a moment, his voice about an octave lower, “I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

Mountain:

He does not text

Like, barely at all if he can help it

If you want to discover his weakness though, just send him a suggestive photo

This ghoul will wax poetic about your body all night long

Unless he's tired of course

Hi you

Hi I’m so sleepy

I’ve got something that will keep you awake if you want

Oh?

You send him a suggestive photo of you in bed, the sheet pulled up just barely covering your body and showing plenty of skin.

Fucking hell

Yeah? What would you want to do if you were here?

…

The chat bubbles sit there for about ten minutes before you get antsy.

Mountain?

You send him a meme from SpongeBob: “One Eternity Later”. Still no reply.

I stg if you fell asleep…

The next morning you wake up to a text from him apologizing for falling asleep. A second message says that he isn’t going to tell you what he would do to you, that he’d rather show you instead.

Cirrus:

You didn’t give her any warning, you were just feeling yourself so you sent a little slightly nude photo

Cirrus doesn’t have her phone on her though, it’s in her bag

The kicker? She and Cumulus have the same phone, down to identical phone cases which were gifts from Aurora

Better not open your phone in public while waiting for her to reply

She will always have to one-up you

Cirrus’ phone buzzes, but she ignores it.

Cumulus holds it up because she thinks it's hers and reads the lock screen, “Cir - your ‘Midnight Snack’ sent you a photo message.”

“Could you open it and see what’s up?”

“Sure.” Cumulus pauses, clearing her throat, “Get over here, you’ll want to see this.”

“What could it possibly be -” Her eyes widened into saucers. "That little -"

"Are you going to reply?"

"Yes," Cirrus says confidently, "and you're going to take a photo of me to send back."

There is one thing for certain: her "Midnight Snack" is getting a treat tonight.

Cumulus:

She carries her phone around of photo opportunities and to spam the group chat with memes only

You can send her a naughty pic if you want

But it’ll take hours for her reply

She will make the wait well worth your while

You send Cumulus about 20 or so texts before she finally replies to you.

She doesn't read anything, just sees the picture.

Look at you

It's about time!

You look good enough to eat

The moment is over, been over for hours Unless...

You're in luck, little temptress, because we're in different time zones So the moment is just starting for me

You play along, especially when she sends you a photo to up the stakes that has you falling to your knees.

Aurora/Sunshine:

Solely communicates via Snapchat, so it’s easy to get a little spicy

She doesn’t get what you’re trying to do though, at first

Once she catches on, all bets are off

What are you doing right now?

The photo you send is slightly on the sultry side, your hair looking mussed, and your top undone a few buttons.

She sent you a picture back of her wide grin with the line:

Just shopping! I wanted to get some ribbons for my mic stand 😁

Well what are you wearing?

Her next picture is from someone else’s POV of her body, she’s standing in a cutesy way in corduroy overalls with her arms crossed.

Idk what this human outfit is called It combines pants and a top and I love it!

You smile at your phone, she’s so fucking adorable. You reply with a chat:

It’s called a jumpsuit, my sweet ❤️

Yes, that’s it! Cumulus says your first message was “sexting”??

Your face turns red and she sends another chat message in rapid succession.

I’ll be there after I check out! Don’t unbutton any more of that top! 🍽️

They're all truly living rent free in my brain rn

770 notes · View notes

aseaofyoongi · 1 year

Text

behind pixels: sequel | jjk

jeon jungkook x reader (f)

genre: sex worker au (jk)

rating: mature audiences only (strictly 18+)

summary: after visiting a certain little app where a guy assisted you during a very stressful night, you realize the man is closer to you than you think.

warnings: not another continuation to a college au. . yes, yes it is; a bit of fluff, a but of smut; wetdreams-ish; masturbation; clitorial stimulation; fingering; in a public location… if you know what i mean; penetrative sex; unprotected sex; oc is a bit insecure; crush culture; i think that’s it honestly

word count: 12.7 thousand words

posted: may 13, 2023

notable songs: self control - frank ocean | love is only a feeling - joey bad$$ | day dream - destin conrad | fire in the sky - anderson paak

It’s been two weeks.

An entire fourteen days since you were blessed with JK’s instructions as assistance to a night of relief from a collection of frustrating days.

The night when his thunderous voice soothingly lead you towards the most delicious orgasm you’ve experienced. Days after that very event you found yourself dwelling in the fanasities he had communicated from the other side of the screen — dusting off the records stored deep in your brain. All you wanted, all you craved was his voice, his attention, and the one thing you had not been able to experience yet, his touch.

After locking your dorm room door, you removed you shirt and shorts before plopping down on your cotton bed sheets. Your eyes were shut tightly blocking out the brightness from the lamp on the nightstand, with the constant linger of JK in your head your hand began traveling lower until it finally pushed past the hem of your panties. The feeling of your fingertips against your clit sent bolts of electricity en route down your back. You began, working towards that same finish line you’d once crossed when talking to JK on Eargasm. But it wasn’t the same, it’s like you were on that same road you once were but your destination moved farther and farther into the horizon.

Still, with beads of sweat streaming down your temples and with your right hand going numb you continued to rub circles against the sensitive bud in-between your folds.

“Come on, come on,” you huffed as your already muggy dorm became hotter and hotter.

But it wasn’t working — It was useless. Your fingers were useless.

“Doll,” you heard his voice from across the room.

“JK?” your eyes flew open envisioning the man you’ve only spoken to from behind your computer screen. You weren’t sure why but it was so hard to draw the connection between the two of them. There was JK, the man who helped you just a few nights ago with his alluring utters. Then, there was him, still JK only he was the boy who sat behind the front desk in the student center with his nose constantly stuck behind a book. They were the same person but they couldn’t be any more different.

Standing at completely different ends of the road. One became the personification of all of your carnal desires, while the other hid behind a clear shell unbeknownst to the effects his beauty had on you, on all of those around him.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, dazed by the fact that he was here. . in your dorm and you were semi naked in his presence yet again, “how did you find out where I live? How did you get in?”

“Don’t worry doll,” he still wore the black mask he wore when he was on camera with you but you could tell by the way his eyes crinkled up that he was smiling behind the dark cloth, “I’m here to help. And by the looks of it seems like you just might need my assistance once again.”

He nodded in the direction of your hand buried under the fabric of your panties.

“I don’t have a masturbation addiction, OK?” you sat up on the bed resting your back on the headboard.

“I never said that,” he chuckled, “if you haven’t noticed I’m a sex worker and if anything, I’m addicted to making people cum.”

“Right.” You cleared your throat, his bluntless shooting straight down to your core.

“By my records I made you cum very. . very quickly,” yes, you were still succumbing to the endorphins of your thoughts circling around him — too focused on the way the bed dipped right beside you, “do you remember that?”

“Huh?”

“Come on, doll,” his hand landed right beside your thigh and he began gently stroking the fabric of your sheets, “don’t tell me you forgot already.”

“I didn’t,” there was a tingle slithering on the surface of your skin, “I was just thinking—“

“You’re thinking of him again aren’t you?” he shook his head, “just remember I’m just a couple messages away and he isn’t even around.”

“Him?” if only he knew. He was him.

“Him. That boy you told me about,” the pads of his fingers brushed against your thigh leaving a trail of goosebumps behind, “the one you said you were thinking about when you were touching yourself.”

“I wasn’t thinking of him.”

“Don’t spare my feelings doll. Tell me the truth. I can take it,” in a way he was right you were thinking of him, the boy from the student center but that also meant you were thinking of JK — how would you even go about explaining this situation to the very man who was clueless to the fact that he was the only person occupying your thoughts?

“When you wanna forget about him for a bit you know where I’ll be doll,” he leaned in and whispered in your ear softly, “I’ll show you a good time.”

His cool breath met the shell of your ear almost in a slowed motion, it left you a shuddering mess. Overcome by the feeling of the electrical currents coursing through your veins. You were addicted to that very feeling but specially because you knew he was the only person who could make you feel what you felt.

“JK, I promise, I’m not—“ you opened your eyes only to be met by a vacant space beside you on the bed.

Fuck. Not again, not again, not again. Everytime you found yourself aiming lower in an attempt for self release he visited you. Storming your thoughts like a tropical storm and wreaking havoc in his path. Reminding you that your fingers no longer had a sense of direction in mapping out your fantasies.

Your fingers now entirely futile. All while your sexual frustrations rose and your cunt continued its rhythmic drumming mimicking a quickening heartbeat. It was increasingly painful and it reminded you of the ease you’d once experienced under JK’s ministrations.

“I’m going crazy. .” you whispered out into the void, “I’m going fucking crazy.”

Temptation drew you closer and closer to the laptop laid out on top of your desk. Although you tried to restrain yourself against it, leaning back on the feeling was much easier. And before you knew it you were sitting on the computer chair with the browser opened up staring right back at you.

In your mind, you typed out Eargasm over and over again — yet there was a hint of hesitation restraining your hands to the arm’s rest.

“He’s just a couple words and clicks away,” you typed out the letters but your hand remained hovering over the keys incapable of actually conducting the search. Surrounded by silence and the anxious streaks of hesitancy — there were an abundant number of questions clouding your mind. But the main one remained whether he would even want you there.

“Just do it, you little bitch,” realistically speaking the chance of JK being online was high, but wasn’t exactly the issue. You knew he extended an invitation for you to visit him at your leisure but in the back of your head you couldn’t help but wonder if you were pushing it demanding his attention this quickly?

The clacking of the keys echoed among the walls of your room. Immediately, your eyes were exposed to the bright turquoise full screen with the seven letters highlighted in a bright pink tone. The more you ogled the welcome screen the more you were consumed . . fervid with the excitement cooking up in your stomach as you came to terms with the fact that JK was so close. In a haste you clicked on the message icon wanting to pull up the very familiar username but to your demise there was a ruby colored ring surrounding his icon. He was with someone else. . Someone who wasn’t you.

This is his job. You repeated.

He does this every night. You repeated.

There was an aching sting springing in the center of your chest and while prior to that night your heart remained at a sinus rhythm, in this moment that changed and you could feel as the organ slowed pumping almost coming to a full stop.

It really shouldn’t sting but you couldn’t help that it did.

“Please tell me you’re planning to go back home at some point this summer,” your best friend approached the table you occupied on the second floor of the dinning hall.

“Not a chance,” you swayed your pointer finger left and right.

Though, campus was significantly bare during the following scorching months there was nothing to really go back home to. While, you didn’t necessarily have a bad relationship with your parents — they were just never there. The purpose for their living and breathing was reduced down to avoiding you so they became addicted to their jobs. A pair of workaholics looking to forget about their personal lives, which only resulted in becoming estranged to their only daughter in the process.

And at the end of the day you’d rather spend nearly all three-hundred and sixty five days of the year on school grounds as opposed to being cooped up in a ‘house’ with nothing but empty rooms and frigid hallways.

“I can’t believe you actually chose to stay here. If I were you I’d be springing right past those brick columns and archway,” she sighed resting her head on her palm.

“How about we actually get you to pass that pesky math elective so that we can get back to your family for the entirety of the summer.”

“What about you?” she asked.

“What about me?”

“What will it take to finally get you to go back home at least once next summer?”

“I don’t think anything is compelling enough for me to go back there and ruin my summer,” you shrugged while taking another bite of your sandwich.

“Come on,” she whined, “Nothing?”

You shook your head — there was nothing back home for you but stark loneliness. That was crystal clear to you.

“There’s not a special somebody waiting for you?” Once again, you shook your head.

Nada.

“So you’re telling me there's not a mystery man who’s the root of all your pent up sexual frustration?” She raised an eyebrow at you, clearly not believing a single word out of your mouth. You hushed her immediately, scanning your surroundings to make sure the people in the surrounding tables weren’t hearing in on your conversation. They weren’t.

“Can you shut the fuck up?”

“You act as if it’s a crime,” she rolled her eyes, “everyone masterbates and it’s actually healthy you know.”

“I would really appreciate it if we could hold this conversation until we are behind closed doors,” you uttered through gritted teeth, feeling like you had the label ‘recent masturbater’ plastered on your forehead.

“Fine,” she took yet another bite of your apple, “will you at least tell me if Eargasm helped you illustrate all of your wildest fantasies.”

“You make it sound like it’s some sort of elaborate form of art,” you guffawed.

Her bulging eyes stared at you as if you’d insulted one of her family members or a pet, “It is an art form. It definitely is. Just think how hard it must be to help someone get off by quickly reading their body language through a screen.”

“When you put it like that the guy I saw must be a magician,” God, you tried stripping all hints of excitement from your voice at the casual acknowledgment of his presence.

If anything JK himself was an art piece himself, illustrated onto the canvas with pristine brush strokes detailing all the perfect curvatures of his face and physique. He draped himself in dark hues and even within the square frame just hung on the wall he was a light source. One that demanded your attention, holding eye contact at all times and refused to let you dedicate even a bit of your attention to anything or anything who wasn’t him.

“What do you mean by that?” she squinted while crossing her arms at her chest.

“Well, for starters,” you shrugged, “I kind of never turned on my camera. . Not for the beginning of the session at least.”

“Not for the entire session?”

“Exactly.”

“Bitch, that was a question not a statement.”

You sighed; blanketed with bashfulness, “so after I requested a video session and he finally called I physically couldn’t hit the camera button.”

“And what did he say?”

“Nothing condescending,” you took a sip of your water, “he was actually really nice about it. That was pretty much the session.”

“But you insinuated you turned it on at some point?”

You stared out the glass windows adoring the wall beside the table — Now, you began to weigh your options. You could either deflate, avoid or confess. And at this point you were one hundred percent sure she has seen far too much. Much more than you ever intended to show anyone on this entire campus.

“I said that?” Avoid? Ok.

“You did. .” She pushed her chair closer to yours, perhaps her attempt at creating a concealed atmosphere.

“I have nothing to tell.”

You kissed her teeth simulating hints of annoyance at your discretion, “Bitch. . stop acting clueless. You’re a shit liar.” She eyed the way you anxiously played around with your hooped earrings.

“I’m not hiding anything” you let go of the silver jewelry and sat up on your chair, “And I’m not a shit liar.”

“Fine. Spare the juicy secrets.” She shrugged, “but at least tell me who you saw.”

After giving the tables around you a thorough scan to make sure he wasn’t near you finally whispered the only name you knew him by into her ear, “I almost chose Tae but then remembered you see him so I saw JK instead.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t cause Tae is mine,” she grinned like a fool. A love struck fool.

“Yours, as in yours and probably a hundred other girls. You know that, right?”

“That’s the crude reality isn’t it?” she sat the half eaten apple on the table huffing continuously like a mopey child, “how was JK though?”

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and while there were a million praises you wanted to express, all of the words sat idle in the back of your throat, “he was good.”

“Just. . good?”

“Well, better than good actually,” you began, urging your mind to unscramble the words needed to amplify his saccharine aid, “He was gentle and patient. But even more than that he was also sweet and caring.”

“I’ve read this man’s description before so he has tattoos and an eyebrow piercing right?” you nodded in confirmation, “plus he’s a literal angel?”

“Pretty much.”

“Dear God, how are you even breathing right now?” she placed her arms at your shoulders and rocked you back and forth emphasizing your existence here on planet earth as you finally comprehended that you weren’t just living some sort of venereal dream.

“I-I honestly don’t even know,” the flashed lingers of that night resided in your mind in small clips — the more you tried to recall the amatory details the more your mind became cloudy, dazed in its own lustful elixir. A potion so potent you were still high days after just off that hour doze, “it was definitely a night.”

“You should visit him again,” she began poking your side, “I know you wanna see him again.”

“I don’t know,” you giggled, pushing yourself away from her finger, “I honestly think it was a one time thing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

General Ed classes were frankly the worst part of university. You couldn’t quite understand the need to take all of the same classes you took and passed in highschool just so that they could reaffirm that you could in fact do math or knew your basic knowledge of biology or chemistry.

It was bullshit — An evident cash grab scheme. All at the expense of dedicating one’s freshmen year attending classes we truly didn’t even really need applied to our major.

You could sincerely rant about this all day long but it was currently nine in the morning, you were running low, (very low actually), on coffee and you were already ten minutes late to your intro to biology class. Your pace was matched with long strides as you were practically running through the courtyard.

Finally pushing through the glass door you felt the way the blanket of sweat covered your forehead. Leaving your skin as bright as polished glass and your breath shortening as a result of the rapid trip between your dorm and the library.

“Fuck,” you were out of breath choosing to take a seat on the bench near the entrance for a seconds before reluctantly hoping back on your feet and trotting up the stairs to the computer room.

Looking through the door’s window you saw the professor lecturing away. You practiced about a dozen ways to go in before you finally convinced yourself to just barge in — which eventually you did but a wave of regret washed over you when the door behind you closed with a loud bang and suddenly all glares were on you.

“Sorry,” you muttered.

“No worries, it happened to almost everyone here. Seems like the door is louder than we perceived,” the professor replied.

Scanning around the mid-size room you saw foreign faces staring back at you until your bestfriends smiled beamed brightly from the table at the end of the room. She was sitting alone with two vacant chairs on either side “Yeah, seems like it.”

“Well, welcome to Intro to Conducting Research. I’m Mr. Kim.” he introduced himself with a tender smile, “I hope you found your way ok. I know this one’s kind of a hidden gem unlike the rest of the lecture halls.”

“It did take me just a bit of time,” you chuckled, suppressing your nerves as they quickly urged you to scramble away from the front of the class and just sink into a chair to prevent yourself from verbalizing anymore idiotic babbles and incoherencies, “is the seating assigned?”

“No, no go ahead and find a seat wherever you’d like. We were just getting started.”

Quickly, you found yourself plopping on the chair beside your bestfriend, puffing out the constrained breath that had taken your chest cavity hostage as a result of your embarrassing entrance. Mr. Kim continued his first day lecture which mainly consisted of a syllabus reading, his life’s story and the scrambled rules to an icebreaker on the white board.

“What do the icebreaker questions say?” your friend asked, squinting to get a better look at the board, “I left my glasses at my dorm.”

“Does it matter?” you slouched down aiming for complete comfort slinging your feet on the metal bar, “we literally know everything about each other already.”

“Bullshit, I have no idea what your name is. .” Her delivery was accompanied with low and raspy vibratos. If you didn’t know any better you would have thought she was mimicking Mr. Kim’s voice. She pulled her phone from one of the pockets of her book bags and began scrolling aimlessly.

Your chuckle was airy and quickly vanished when you heard the rusty hinges of the door wailing out. The loud noise from the door meeting the threshold startled you although your eyes were already glued to the front of the room.

“That door is going to drive me fucking crazy,” the exasperation in her words was evident and you were about to agree but suddenly, you had moved from your place right beside her — feeling like she was now miles away. While you were now in this narrow space similar to an alley or tunnel. In the distance you saw her still glued to her phone screen while sitting on the opposite end; succumbed to pitch blackness. Even as you stood and attempted to sprint in her direction you were condemned to the enclosed walls.

You couldn’t tell whether you were trapped within a dream or a nightmare but he was here.

JK was here.

That was the torment drumming itself amongst the walls of your skull as the beat etched the stills of that night deep into your brain. The night you swore you would forget yet here he was to remind you of every second of it. Yet, your gaze was focused on him and you just couldn’t peel your eyes away.

You’d concluded it was entirely his fault. He possessed the kind of beauty you’d only ever heard derived from the ancient Gods of Greece — and as if he was a descendant of Aphrodite he held distinct associations to his name. You would argue JK was synonymous to beauty (obviously), love, passion and most certainly lust.

You must have been deep in orbit because you couldn’t recall the first or the second or the hundredth time your friend called out for you, so much so that she began shaking you to get you to snap out of it.

“Cute boy is coming this way,” she nodded in his direction, and you quickly realized he was closer than you had perceived, “Look alive bitch. He definitely looks like your type.”

“I don’t have a type,” you whispered through gritted teeth — he was close now. Just a few feet away.

“Yes, you do,” she mumbled back, “he’s practically a carbon copy of your Eargasm boyfriend.”

“He’s not,“ you argued quietly.

With her giggles circling through the air and your bulging eyes of horror JK finally made it to the proximity of your table and his soft utters sent an algid shiver to take route on your skin freezing you right into place.

His name was Jungkook, you’d learned.

He was JK but he was also Jungkook.

Between unremitting stutters you introduced yourself briefly and he took the liberty of occupying the only vacant chair left in the classroom which also happened to be right next to your best friend.

Small talk was your kryptonite and while your friend excelled in keeping conversations alive, you sat opposite the two of them lulled into space. Making your best attempt to seem as least interested as possible. But the truth was whenever you heard his voice you thought a command would follow right behind it — just like the ones he communicated that night.

Your thoughts were scrambled into a mess and there was a dull ache in between your legs further accentuating the frustration you’ve felt for far too long.

“What about you?” he asked, his eyes were duly set on you.

“Huh?” his brown eyes were so much more invasive in person and you felt like he devoured you with them.

“Is this your second year too?” he repeated.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, “it is.”

“Don’t mind her,” your friend said, “she’s a little out of it.”

“It’s ok,” he smiled; and quickly you noticed the silver hoop sparkling on the corner of his lip. Was that always there? You hadn’t noticed before. “Being here for the summer has us all going a little crazy.”

“Is this your first summer here?”

He nodded, “I usually head back home for summer but I figured I would get my gen ed’s out the way.”

“We all had the same idea I suppose,” you contributed.

“It’s better than being here for a whole extra semester,” she played mindlessly with the zippers on her backpack.

“What about you guys?” he asked, “is this your first summer here.”

Your friend quickly began recounting her endless summer adventures from years prior. . far far away from campus. Jungkook nodded and they both reflected on the forsaken summer ahead. Deflated at the exceeding number of voyages they’ll be missing while condemned to remain on campus.

You couldn’t help but wonder about the things you had kept from yourself. . A lot perhaps.

With the company of the scorching heat of the summer months daylight savings time lurked right behind it—providing the longevity of the sun, as the Earth seems to lean a bit closer to the star and decrease its speed in rotation.

And here you were melting away by the very sun. Unbeknownst to the so-called wonders of the summertime. Barred from any of the memories everyone seemed to be defined by: the best months of the year, the best moments of your life they’d say.

While enthralled in your own thoughts you heard your friend’s voice though it was a bit muffled, still you were able to make out what she said, “Ellie is over there. I’m gonna go say hi. You two talk okay?”

Jungkook chuckled softly. Why would she say that? Ugh, she made it weird. She definitely made it weird.

“Is she always like this?” he asked, leaning a bit closer in your direction and although he still remained in his chair at a considerable distance, you could feel the waves of his body heat crashing against you.

“Always,” there was a hint of nervousness stained on your tongue but you swallowed it down. Or at least tried to, “life’s never boring when she’s around.”

“You guys been friends long?” he asked, gis voice still vibrated in your inner ear, sounding like the beat of drums. It truly did frazzle your nerves.

“Yeah, we’ve been friends for a bit.”

He nodded. Simply soaking in what you’ve said—there was nothing else to say but you urged to hear the strumming of his sweet words just once more.

“What about you,” you clasped your balmy hands on top of the table, “you got any friends around here?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook nodded, “I have a couple. We all live near each other back home too so I’m never allowed a moment of peace.”

“Seems like we’re kind of living under the same pretenses.”

“Seems like it. Maybe, we could escape away together one day.”

Together? Did he just say together? As in the both of you, on the same route. . Intentionally, while in each other’s company?

The silence between the two of you was deafening, you became nearly incompetent; unable to communicate anything corrigible. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and your throat became dry. So fucking dry.

“Or-“ he began, seemingly taken back by your lack of verbal communication.

“Yes,” you finally said, “I’d like that very much.”

“You promise?”

“One day.”

The first week of research class was slow. . repetitive and you couldn’t help the way your thoughts wandered off to your conversation with Jungkook the first day of class. How you promised each other one day—Just one day but that was as far as it has gone so far.

Even though, in that moment, you couldn’t feel farther away from him.

You’d barely uttered a word to each other but the patented ‘hello’ and ‘bye’ but that was the extent of it. There had been nothing else. Plus he no longer sat near, he was three tables away with his friend, Namjoon who had switched in on day two of class.

You couldn’t ignore the ping in your heart when you walked in that day and you saw him that far away—You could no longer spark up nuisance conversations, or sneak glances when you pretended to write your notes or have the sweetness of his vanilla scent inundating your nostrils.

It has all gone to shit. With fervent frustration you trotted up the stairs to your dorm on the second floor. Looking forward to laying in the comfort of your bed until you have to physically peel yourself away from your sheets.

The first strike was pitched the moment you pulled out your key card from the back pocket of your jeans and it immediately hit the floor. Conducting a string of breathing exercises to ease your rising vexation you picked up the card once more and took a deep breath before sliding it into the reader. The world was pitted against you that day though, because as soon as you retrieved the card and reached for the knob the electronic lock dinged and flashed its red light.

You tried again and again and again—all your attempts leading to the same result. Until finally your irritation ran rampant through your veins and you continuously banged on your door with your balled fists as if that would have made a difference. There was no one on the other side who could possibly rescue you, your only solution lived in the student center. . Visiting the very booth occupied by a certain boy who lived in your heart and mind.

“Oh c’mon, not today,” you mumbled leaning against the cold wooden door, “fucking Monday’s are always shit.”

The way to the student center was not long at all but your calves were torched with the amount of walking you’d already done for the day. Luckily, as you pulled the door open the hallways were vacant which meant there were no lines and most importantly no waiting.

“Finally, this damned day might just be turning around,” you mumbled to yourself.

You walked down the corridor, entered the second to last room and there he was sitting behind the rectangle frame carved into the wall. Jungkook’s chin rested on his palm. His long strands were left in a disarray but it made it work. He truly did. The rest of his body was hidden behind the tall desk but even from your position near the door you could see the collar of his black t-shirt. Even as the bell on top of the door chimed his attention was consumed by the brightly lit screen laid out in front of him.

“Hi,” he greeted, not looking up in the direction of the door once, “welcome to card and ID services. How may I help you?”

“Is this how you greet all the students who pop in here?” you teased with what you recalled to be your most idiotic smile plastered on your face.

He chortled finally realizing who it was, “if I would’ve known it was you I would have given you my undivided attention from the moment you walked in.”

Realizing you stood without your friend as a shield for conversations, you swallowed your nervousness. “You say a lot but I bet you don’t mean half of what comes out of your mouth.”

“I live by codes of honesty, doll.”

There was a stumble in your step as soon as you heard the pet name he uttered through your laptop screen all those nights ago. The same one that had you lured under his spell, in a disarray of emotions, whimpering babbles of nothing at all and everything all at once.

“Whatever you say, Jungkook,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m actually here for a reason, not just for your charms and to see a pretty face.”

“Charms and a pretty face huh?” he smirked.

“Anyway,” you diverted the conversation away from your inane choice of words, “I’m actually here because I can’t open my dorm door with this thing anymore.”

“Is it working though?”

“No,” you slid the card over to him on the surface of the desk. You were hoping to get a peak of his tattoos as he reached out for it but he wore a hoodie. “it isn’t working like. . at all.”

“Actually, I was talking about my charismatic personality and dashing good looks.” His annoying and compelling magnetism had you in conflict between wanting to smack him upside the head or suck his dick behind the counter. “According to you of course.”

“Let’s table the cockiness for now and focus on the actual problem taking root,” you tapped your fingers in the plastic rectangular key.

Jungkook smiled and took the plastic key before sitting back on his office chair and typing away purposely into his keyboard. Even under the shitty lighting of this holed up office space his attractiveness was evident.

“How did you even manage to fuck up your card this bad?” he asked, not really demanding an answer but you shrugged anyway, “the computer won’t even read it.”

“I really have no idea.”

“This is gonna cost you, you know” his eyes still remained on the screen.

“I thought this shit was free?” you argued, “don’t we pay enough tuition to cover a little damaged keycard. I should’ve just broken my way in.”

Jungkook simply shook his head whilst dragging his chair back towards the printer to fetch your card.

“Consider that we’re very well acquainted classmates. Can you please deduct fifty-percent from what you were going to charge?”

“Well acquainted classmates?” His expression was hard to read but if you had to guess he seemed a bit hurt. . perhaps offended. But you could also just be misreading the situation. “And here I thought we were really good friends.”

“Aren’t they synonymous?”

“Not to me,” he held the new card towards you only to pull it back when you reached for it.

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes at him. “We’re friends. Great friend actually.”

“Hm, I don’t know. Sounds a bit disingenuous,” he sat back on his chair still holding your key hostage.

You scoffed. “And how would you possibly know that?”

“I can read people.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

He smirked, “I can always just show you how well I can read people.”

The intent behind his words was blurred behind thick lines and while you genuinely thought he wanted to plead his case, you couldn’t help but feel like there were hints of temptation behind his promise.

It actually took you a bit off guard—though, not really. Jungkook, like JK, (his alter ego?) was a concoction of sensuality and comfort. He is the personification of sweetness and while that was a fact he also had a player persona and he was driven by flirtatious mannerism.

The perfect combination of two.

“Is this how you spend most of your day? Harassing all of the girls who come by to get their keycards fixed.”

“Harrasing is such an ugly word,” he smiled. That stupid that was so compelling it actually drew you closer and closer to him. “Besides you’re the only one I like to fuck around with.”

“Lucky me.”

“Lucky you,” he repeated in a hushed tone, placing your card on the wooden surface while his hand remained on top of it, swallowing it whole under his palm. “If you really wanna test your luck I want to offer a proposition.”

“What would that proposal entail?” You removed his palm and finally grabbed the card, shoving it in your back pocket. You tried to hide it but the feeling of your fingers meeting his ignited sparks to crackle in the pit of your stomach and instantly you were blinded by bright lights, perhaps fireworks.

“One day, remember?” Jungkook’s eyes are mesmeric, stroked with intricate detail, dabbed with a tone of cafè noir, glossed over as a final coat offering a shiny layer.

“One day, yes,” you confirmed taking yourself back to your conversation on day one, “you offered to take me around and show the beauty of summer. Everything I’ve been missing apparently.”

Jungkook shook his head light-heartedly. “Right. I was just wondering if we could upgrade the singular term to plural.”

“What do you mean?”

“One day,” he repeated. “Can we change that to a couple of days instead?”

Days. . This implies that you’ll be spending days with Jungkook? This felt like a cultivation of your own personal heaven. Initially, when he proposed the idea to you back in class a seed had been planted in your head, slowly blooming a flower which swayed briskly the more you thought about Jungkook and being able to ever spend time alone with him.

“You know I didn’t actually think you meant any of it,” you lied, you believed him or at least you wanted to.

“Did I not just say I’m a man of honesty?”

“Apparently that’s your morale code, right?” you raised your eyebrow at his claims of integrity.

“Of course, it is.” He confirmed, “don’t sound so surprised please.”

“Not surprised. Just absorbing all of this newfound information.”

“Absorbing sounds a lot like mocking.”

“Mocking is such an ugly word,” you teased.

“Ha—ha, very funny,” he uttered jokingly accompanied by a rumbling fake laugh, “you know what’s not funny?”

“What?” you tilted your head slightly with a smug smile painted on your lips.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I do?” you hummed.

“You really strive to puncture my ego don’t you?” his gaze was set on you intently, his dark orbs read you slowly from head to toe. It made your palms balmy and you could feel a tremble taking route at your lower extremities.

Walking towards the door your shaky hand reached for the handle and opening it before turning back one last time. “The answer is yes.” You walked out although you heard a string of questions following right behind you, all of them left unanswered.

Yesterday was Friday, which meant today was Saturday. You knew that. You were competent enough to map out the days of the week accordingly. . Still, you weren’t quite sure why you heard an alarm blare through the walls of your dorm at six in the morning, startling you right out of the comfort of your slumber. Now, just thirty minutes past seven after rushing your morning routine thinking you’d ‘late for class’ you sat in bed showered with no real plans for the day ahead.

Your bowl of instant oatmeal was now empty and sitting on the nightstand beside your bed.

Navigating through the multitude of apps on your laptop was not as entertaining as you once perceived and although it did ease your boredom for a bit. Now you sat with the base panel sticking to your thighs staring at the home screen with nothing else to probe into.

“Come on,” Jungkook’s voice was barely above a whisper, once again he seems to have invaded your thoughts, “I know you wanna visit me.”

“I’m not sure what you mean. I don’t need to visit the student center today.”

“You know what I’m talking about, doll,” the words bounced in your head, “I know you remember.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, your attempt at trying to vanish him from your mind entirely. But even if you hated to admit it you couldn’t help but crave that feeling of him being here even if it was through the building blocks of your own imagination—It just felt so real. The heat of his presence felt so real and truly you just wanted to be consumed by it.

“Last time, I visited you. . You were a little busy.”

“That was last time,” he laid back sinking into the softness of your mattress and pillows, “I promise I’m all yours today.”

His commands were like the songs of sirens inching you closer to the very spot where he wanted you to be. Very easily you typed in the name of the website you’d grown very familiar with on the browser and quickly clicked on the last messages between the two of you — he was online and without indication of being in another session. That’s a good sign.

Yeah.

You can call.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard without indication on how to approach a conversation because for one you wanted to speak to him but it was also eight in the morning and Eargasm was a simple gateway to an orgasm. Not to mention, you’d be talking to JK not Jungkook and while the two were the same person they were also different.

BunnyBoy98 is typing…

Fancy seeing you

back here ;)

You quite literally could not move.

Have you missed

me?

Please. Don’t flatter

yourself.

It’s not flattery.

Last I recall, I

did make you cum.

My fingers did that.

Not you.

Who was the guiding

voice though?

Right.

Don’t you ever

forget it, doll.

Is there a reason

you messaged me?

I like that about

you, you know.

What?

Your bluntness.

It reminds me of

someone I know.

It’s hot.

There’s someone else? Someone who occupies his thoughts regularly it seems. Your heart felt heavier as the sharp blade pierced right through it leaving behind a vast hole and an incurable wound. You weren’t really sure why but it hurt so bad.

But you knew it should not. His job required sparking up conversations with dozens of girls on a daily basis and helping at least a dozen more find their culmination.

You cannot feel anything.

Thinking of other girls

in my presence? Shame

on you BunnyBoy.

Sorry, doll.

I promise right

now is all about you.

But we seem to have

started on the wrong

foot. How can we fix

that, BunnyBoy?

Use me as you

please.

As you read his request there was a shift in the atmosphere. Sort of like what you felt back in back that first day, where you were briefly dreaming inside of a dream or like what you imagined it would feel like if the Earth ever slammed down on its brakes coming to an abrupt halt. Actually, you were sitting in a massive slingshot just waiting to be catapulted into space — it was all too grand to minimize into coherent thoughts, too great to be reality.

But it was and you were pulled right out of your own illusion when the phone call icon began vibrating repeatedly signaling there was an incoming call.

While your head was still swimming among the cottony clouds your fingers somehow managed to hit the green button on the call from JK popping up on your screen.

“I was beginning to become hopeless,” his voice was so distinctive the minute he began talking your skin became covered in goosebumps.

“Why were you becoming hopeless?” To this day, you wondered how you were able to point him out even in a crowd just by his voice and he’s yet to identify yours. Perhaps, that is exactly the reason why you were so comfortable speaking to him here — and adopting the confident persona you lack in real life.

“When I call there’s usually an answer just by the first ring.”

“Things are different today, BunnyBoy,” you laid down and placed the laptop on the pillow right beside your head. “I make the requests today, remember?”

You were nervous and you weren’t quite sure just how much of this you could actually pull off but you were willing to try just to show him a good time.

“It’s your turn to tell me what you desire most,” you tried to maintain a whisper to your tone. Not only was that your go-to interpretation of seductiveness but it was also really fucking early in the morning and the last thing you needed was to be the dirty talk alarm for your dorm neighbors.

“I like to be the gateway to heaven.”

“Elaborate.”

“You know exactly what I mean,” he snickered. Of course, he was referring to the art of making someone orgasm and he was right you were all too familiar with it. . Especially coming from him.

“What is it that you like so much about it?”

“It’s just an addicting feeling. I don’t really know how to put it into words,” you could tell he was talking through a wide grin, “it’s such a vulnerable moment for most people but I can’t help but drink the other person in entirely until I’m drunk off the antics and mannerism of their orgasm.”

“You get off by getting other people off?”

“I guess that’s an easier way to explain it.”

“So do I need to get off to help you get off right now?”

He huffed out a small breath, “Is that what you want, doll. To help me?”

You hummed, crumbling and failing to come up with any words at the mention of the nickname he’d attached to you.

“I can dig into my memories, you know. There’s so much about you I remember,” Again, you couldn’t see him but you could sense the smirk right through the microphone, “I know you kept your screen off but the sounds you made were enough to have me touching myself every second of everyday for days on end.”

The sensation of your walls clenching around nothing was taunting and the stream flowing right through the fabric of your panties just piled up on the mountain of frustration. You were miles away from the peak as you trotted up slowly but your thoughts remained on him.

“It’s like an audio file on loop. Your whimpers, and moans and the soft utters of my name. Fuck. The mixture became an ideal composition to the perfect ballad,” he confessed through a string of soft pants, “and then the way you pushed your fingers past your lips just to savor the taste of yourself. You really drove me to insanity.”

Your body felt as light as a feather and you could’ve sworn you were levitating right above your mattress you just couldn’t open your eyes to prove it. Instead, your tanktop was pushed below your breasts and your finger began its trail on your clit rubbing slow circles.

“JK, ima need you to shut the fuck up right now,” you were breathless with a hint of desperation. Ready to lose yourself in his voice, but you couldn’t, “shut up—“ you repeated, “this is not how it’s supposed to go today.”

“You say that,” he cooed, “but how come I can tell you’ve already begun to touch yourself?”

You pulled your hand from yourself, repelling away from the gravitational pull forcing you to reach back down between the warmth of your thighs. “You don’t know that and I was not touching myself.”

“You were and I’m 100-percent sure of it.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“Don’t worry, doll. You’ve done more than enough to get me where I need to be,” he hissed.

Realistically speaking this was the goal—Your goal for the day. But the reality of Jungkook’s whine sounding near the shell of your ear made you imagine things that weren’t even there for the third time in the past few weeks.

And there he was, beside you once again, with his cock springing out from above the hem of his shorts. It was longer; bigger than you’d imagined but he made use of his veiny hands moving up and down his length with a hastened pace. Quickly working his way right into an orgasm.

“Tell me how it feels, JK,” you rubbed your legs together in search of some ease — perhaps to ignore the pain or the desirous sting threading dangerously near to overwhelmingness but it wasn’t helping. You reach out for one of the decorative cushions sitting on your bed and quickly rid yourself of your panties hiking your skirt up past your belly button. You weren’t quite sure what came over you but looking over at ‘JK’ laying beside you began swaying your hips against the cotton cushion to match his exact pace.

“Fuck—“ you squealed.

“Oh, doll,” he let out a rasp groan, “t-that’s exactly what I needed. Keep going please. I’m so close.”

Minutes went by since the two of you began exchanging the alluring songs escaping each of your lips. It was an orchestra of pleasure and you kept at it until your whines combined with his grunts signaled the peak of your actions.

“Oh fuck,” he breathed out, “I’ve never done that before.”

“What?”

“This has never happened during one of my sessions.”

You smiled, “I’m glad I could be of assistance.”

“Visit me more often,” he said, “I mean it. Don’t wait another two weeks.”

“I’ll be back. Don’t worry Jung—JK,” you cleared your throat as an attempt to mask your almost massive fuck up. Hopefully he didn’t hear.

“I’ll be here.”

“Bye.”

The call was disconnected. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Not again.

Hours passed since your very interesting morning with Jungkook or should you say JK. It was closer to late night and you sat on a bench just outside the library with the luminous ray of the moon singling you out like a spotlight. You were tired and just like the moon sat without any stars surrounding it to keep it company you chose to be here, alone; secluded just for a little while. You needed it.

The night hadn’t begun this way. Not at all.

Your friend had texted you hours prior letting you know that a couple of people from research class had noticed a mini research project due for that Monday. And like any other group of panicked college students you all grabbed your shit and ran to the library to get the work done. Back then, you didn’t know that by ‘a few people from research class’ she also meant Jungkook.

While you could feel a kaleidoscope of butterflies flapping their wings against the lining of your stomach, there were also those pressing nerves. You know, the ones that make your hands tremble, your tongue feel heavy inside of your mouth and your palms balmy all together.

It was a variation of your own personal heaven and hell.

“May I know why you’re out here sitting all by yourself,” there weren’t winds strong enough to make you shiver the way his voice had just now.

Would he recognize your voice from this morning? Maybe he would. You pressed your hands against the wooden bench and took a deep breath.

It’s gonna be okay. You chanted. It’s going to be okay.

“Oh, I’m done with the project and I just needed a bit of fresh air,” you waved your hands around in an attempt to point at the library but you ended up pointing in the opposite direction, “it was just too hot in there.”

“Yeah. .” He slouched down and placed his head on the back rest, “I needed out too.”

“Did you get to finish?”

“I did,” he laughed, “I chose the effects of tattoos in the workplace.”

“Ha—“ you guffawed, shaking your head, “I’m sure you meant to make a statement.”

“Of course, doll.” There it was again. The effects it had on you were so grand meanwhile he just brushed right past it like absolutely nothing.

“How many tattoos do you have anyway?”

He rolled his sleeve up revealing his arm all the way up to his bicep, “I lost count after filing in the gaps for my sleeve but I’ll confidently say I’m well over thirty.”

“You must have all of the secrets to pain tolerance,” you stared at the art pieces adoring his honey skin.

“I would say I have it more under control now than I ever did before,” his head turned towards you and his dark eyes pierced your soul, “I almost cried during my first one though. Hurt so fucking bad I had to keep taking breaks.”

“Which one was it?”

He brought his arm up and showed you the flower sitting right on his right elbow.

“Can I?” That was your way of asking if it was okay for you to touch it without having to actually say it.

“Yeah.”

Your fingertips traced the small orange flower along with its surroundings which sprawled out into a larger floral design. Sparks of electric currents traveled from your fingers as they remained in contact with his skin. You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too but you were too afraid to ask.

“Did you get it shaded and colored in one go?”

“I couldn’t,” he shuddered, likely remembering that very day at the tattoo shop, “hurts just thinking about it.”

“But then you went and got a whole sleeve?”

“I guess I’m still fond of a bit of pain.”

“That’s psychotic.”

“Maybe,” he closed his eyes lightly, as a cheeky wide-toothed grin formed on his lips. That was the last of your interaction for a bit, the two of you just sat back in silence enjoying the serenity of the night. But of course, silence seemed to be a burden on Jungkook’s behalf because it didn’t really last too long. “Hey, you wanna go get ice cream? I hear the shop just off campus is open late.”

“Is this the kick start to your summer itinerary for me?”

“Could be. . if you want it to.”

“Sure. Let’s go.”

With a stunned expression your friend watched as Jungkook followed behind you, into the library to collect your belongings only to see you exit with him once more. Even though the windows you saw as her mouth remained agape as you disappeared into the night with the man that occupied so much of your heart and mind.

Seconds after you felt your phone vibrate continuously in your back pocket. Knowing it was probably just her with an abundance of prying questions you ignored it for now instead choosing to focus on the paved road ahead you. There are so many beautiful things to admire at this time of night — the way the bright green leaves sway with the cool breeze on the branches they’d call home for the duration of the summer, there was also the way the brightness of the street light illuminated the way to your destination. There were no lone frigid gusts whispering their way through the city, instead there was the buzzing chatter of on-goers bringing the streets back to life.

Jungkook and you occupied the sidewalk taking in every scene, every conversation, every person, every detail in your way and just as you neared the little ice cream shop you saw the way his doe eyes lit up at the vibrant shade of pink on the concrete walls.

“What should I get you?” You sat on one of the small tables lined up on the sidewalks just a few feet away from the shop.

“Chocolate please,” you pulled out your wallet just as he placed his hand on top of yours and shook his head.

“I invited you, didn't I?”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

Across from you at another small table you spotted a couple seemingly on their first day. You could tell because the girl as beautiful as she was, she wore the same gitters you did. The way her fingers trembled whenever the boy across from her inched his hand closer to hers.

She wore the exact same gitters you did but you were not here on a date. You were merely an acquaintance. Someone Jungkook knew in passing — likely to become someone he once knew once this charade of wanting to show you around for the summer was over.

“Are you always this deep in your own thoughts?” Jungkook sat across from you on the table and handed you the wafer cone with two chocolate scoops.

“Not always. .” you took a swift lick of your ice cream, “sometimes is probably a bit more accurate though.”

“May I ask why that is?”

“There are too many things dancing around in my head to figure out the steps to,” you began playing around with the edge of the napkins laid out on the table.

“Do any of those pressing thoughts have to do with your shit taste in ice cream flavors?” The dimples on his rosey cheeks were scaled to your meter of comfort and you couldn’t help but reciprocate his cheerful manner.

“Shit?” you sneered, “if we’re talking shit, strawberry is definitely first on the list.”

“Strawberry ice cream tastes like actual strawberries. Now please tell me what chocolate ice cream tastes ‘cause it is certainly not chocolate.”

“Bullshit. It does taste like chocolate.”

“Now, that's bullshit,” he continued, savoring his frozen dessert. “Will you ever tell me why you despise the summertime so much?”

“I do not despise it. I just—“ you sighed, “there are just experiences that simply do not wash away with the currents of the beach waves.”

“That’s awfully poetic.”

“I like to dramatize my life experiences.”

“I won’t make you elaborate. I will, however, smother you with my favorite activities until you have no choice but to fall in love with the season,” he strapped his backpack on and called over to you, “you ready?”

Whoever said spinning around on the roundabout after devouring an entire cone of ice cream was a good idea — was wrong. Of course, Jungkook’s ideas of the perfect summer night were made up of late night escapees, sweets and indigestion.

Jungkook, the culprit in this entire scheme plopped down on the multi-colored metal surface, clearly out of breath after having spun you so fast the heavens were now where the ground once used to be.

“You are the worst,” you laid down on the roundabout, eyes closed, swallowing down the nausea creeping up the back of your throat, “if I puke. . It is entirely on you.”

“Last I recall, you’re the one who wanted to be spun around on this thing.”

“Yes.” You continued taking deep breaths, “keyword spin not attempt to blast me off into the Milky Way.”

“You are such a drama queen.”

“There is nothing dramatic about the way my head is spinning right now,” you felt his shower brush against yours — he was now laying beside you. You opened your eyes slightly, turning your head in his direction, “are there now three of you?”

“Here,” he raised a hand to your face, “how many fingers am I holding up?”

“Two?” you lied. He had all five fingers up.

“I know you see my whole hand is sitting right in front of your face right now,” he rolled his eyes.

“Actually, I don’t. That’s why I said two,” you stuck your tongue out at him before redirecting your attention back to the sky. “Do you think the moon ever gets lonely up there?”

Jungkook followed your line of vision to the sky above where the moon still sat all by itself, “I’ve never actually thought about it but I think everything and everyone can feel lonely once in a while.”

“I think I’m like the moon.”

His voice was soft, “in what way?”

“I guess—“ you battled with all the words crashing against each other in your brain, “in the sense that compared to Earth and most planets, the moon is so small right?”

“Yes.”

“I just feel like that. You know? Like a single grain of sand in a sandbox — feels like I’m an ant in a world of giants.”

“While it is true that the moon is fairly small in comparison to most of the planets in our solar system,” he began. “It is also a beacon of light. Without the moon our nights would be composed of utter darkness, the ocean tides would fall and the course of the life we know would be altered. Without the moon our lives would be shit.”

“Right.”

“Small yet consequential. You get that?”

“I do.”

You told no fib. His words were a warm blanket of solace wrapping itself tightly around your figure — serving as a shield, protecting you from anything that could perforate through your being; your soul.

Your parents had always been the main assailants in the attacks you had experienced throughout your life. After your brother walked away from home they pushed you aside, neglected you and left you to raise yourself. They were never there for birthdays or the holidays or summer vacations or even just regular days. You were a thirteen year old girl alone not being able to decipher why all of their grief from your brother’ abandonment came at the expense of the love they claimed to have had for you.

All your life you tried to work out if you’d done anything wrong but you finally see that it wasn’t you. Their neglect was based on their inability to be parents before anything else.

So yes, you were like the moon. Small yet consequential.

Jungkook’s pinky brushed up against yours slightly as he traced random shapes on your skin; sort of like asking permission before actually holding your hand. You looked at each other and before you knew it he wrapped his hand to yours. The warmth radiating from him was soothing and like nothing you’ve ever felt before. If you were sure of one thing — it’s you never wanted him to let go.

You just wanted to stay there with him in that moment forever.

“Jungkook, you better shake off all that sand out here or you are forbidden from entering my room,” you threatened, which only resulted in a mischievous grin from the man and the sand to go flying in your direction as he purposely tried to get it on you.

“Is that all better?”

You snorted, brushing off any of the remaining sand he did get in you, “you are so mean.”

A week of summer adventures had graced your life for the better — Jungkook had burdened himself with the mission to get you to enjoy the wonders of the scorching summer months and he was succeeding. You have enjoyed all of it thus far. Even having the ocean sand in places where the sun doesn’t shine.

The schedule doesn’t cease and while your platonic relationship with Jungkook blossomed though you couldn’t completely shut out the feelings that sent your heart into a frenzy whenever he was near. You like him so bad, but your friendship with him was like a gem, a rare gem and you wouldn’t trade that for anything on this entire planet.

“You know what’s weird?” Jungkook walked out from the bathroom just as you finished getting dressed. One towel hugged his waist, while the other he used to dry his hair.

“Jungkook?” you yelped, “clothes.”

“Oh, come on, you saw all of this at the beach,” he pointed at his sculpted physique. You did and you were almost sent into cardiac arrest then — what makes him think you’d be any better off within the congested walls of your room. He was feet away near the bathroom door but it felt like he was just beside you.

“Whatever. .” you turned around trying to keep yourself busy with something else, something that did not involve gawking at him. “This wall—“ he noticed you weren’t looking, “this wall right above your bed it looks so fucking familiar.”

“Jungkook, you’ve been in here about a dozen times in the past week,” your body stiffened as you felt a nauseating flutter in your stomach.

“You’re right . .” your back was still turned towards him but you could hear the floorboards creak as he inched closer, “but that right there only confirms it. There’s also your voice, that birthmark sitting right below your bottom lip and not to mention your nail polish you always keep the exact same shade.”

“Jungkook—“

“Not very clever I’d say,” his chin rested on the nook of your neck, “especially we ended on becoming this close.”

You wanted to say something — anything but you couldn’t actually speak.

“After our first time on Eargasm together,” he whispered into your ear, “do you know how much I thought of you? Your voice was the only thing that has played in my head since then. I wanted. . needed to meet you. The girl behind the black screen.”

“How long have you known?”

“Since the day you went to get your card fixed at the student center,” he continued, “your voice is soft, euphonic, harmonious, even when you’re cumming. It’s easy to distinguish.”

You shuddered as a result of his dulcet praise, “I’m so transparent but your tattoos ratted you out especially the snake sitting right below your wrist.”

“Problem is I wasn’t trying to hide, doll.”

“You didn’t care?”

“I didn’t care.”

Turning around the two of you remained face to face examining even the tiniest of details within one another. The pale red tint on the apple of his cheeks matched the tone of his lips almost perfectly.

His lips . . they were so inviting. You were sluggishly levitating towards him before his words slammed at your brakes.

“I think we should get going,” Jungkook said standing by the door holding his keys out to you. Was he kicking you out of your own dorm? “You wanna wait for me in the car? I’ll be right down.”

“Uh—“ you were a bit taken back with disappointment and just a bit of confusion. Was he really oblivious to it? “Yeah, that sounds fine. Don’t be long.”

A million thoughts scrambled your brain on the passenger seat of Jungkook’s car as your eyes drifted off toward the sun disappearing into the horizon. Love was never your forte but if you were sure of one thing it’s that what you felt although unspoken was evident; crystal clear more so. So you replayed what had happened in your room time and time again to decipher when it all had gone to shit. Perhaps, he was in fact still angry about you knowing it was him all along. . But you’d apologized when joined you in the car and he reassured you that it was fine and he wasn’t mad.

Looking back towards the driver seat, Jungkook remained with one hand on the wheel and his eyes glued to the road ahead. Not a word escaped his lips. Why is it so difficult to figure out what men are thinking?

Once you arrived at the drive-in movie theater, Jungkook parked and quickly dismissed himself to buy snacks while you tried to find the station provided to be able to hear the movie and finally you did.

“Okay,” Jungkook opened the car door, taking his previous seat back on the driver’s side, “I got popcorn, cherry slushies and a bunch of gummies. I just guessed on everything hoping it wasn’t a complete miss.”

“Of course I like these. Thank you, Jungkook.” You’d like anything he brought back for you simply because it came from him, “You know, I thought this style of movie watching ceased to exist after the 90s.”

“Yeah, I guess there was a decline in popularity after the 90s. Now, in some places it is once again sought out as a popular summer activity.”

“That is evident,” you looked around at the packed lot out in front of you. You guys scored the very last spot in the very last row, “Do you come here often?” Only you knew the real undertones of that question. ‘Do you bring other girls here often?’ This is what you actually meant.

“Not often,” he took a sip of his slushie

“Not often,” you repeated under your breath with a residue of bitterness left in your tastebuds. You weren’t sure if your drinking had grown pungent or if his words simply landed a punch in your gut triggering your acid reflux.

Patience, patience and endurance. You’d neared your limit for both while your heart continued its call for Jungkook but he simply could not hear. Was he really oblivious to it? You wondered once again. Was the wailing just white noise to him . . Non-existent? Could he not hear it as loudly as you could? Because to you it was all you could hear, the only thing you could pay mind to. To you the movie was long gone and all you wanted was for him to notice you. Not simply as friends, but to embrace what you knew he briefly felt for you back at the dorm. To actually see you.

“Are you okay?” his hand slowly moved to shove some more popcorn into his mouth. His words were slack, almost as if he’d been put to function in slow motion, “do you not like the movie?”

You couldn’t care less about the fucking movie. “The movie is fine.”

“Are you sure?” Was that concern in his voice? “I can get you something else from the snack bar,“ he reached for the handle, “let ne get you a water.“

“No,“ you held his wrist, “just stay please.”

“The snack bar is less than ten steps away. Are you sure you don’t want it?”

“I don’t want you to go.” You weren’t sure you were being clear so you tried your best to elaborate, “I know technically left my own room earlier but I didn’t want to and now I do not want you to go.”

You heaved feeling the pace of your quickening heart beating your chest. Then mumbled, “I left only because you asked me to but I wanted to stay with you.”

His eyebrows were furrowed as he tried to unscramble your inept confession. Soon his chocolate eyes dilated realizing the weight of your words.

“Like?” He asked, allowing his silence to fill in the gaps.

“Yes,” you confessed. “I wanted to stay in my room with you and spend the night together.”

“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. Truthfully, I wanted you to stay but I didn’t want to overstep after we talked about the Eargasm thing,” He turned his head away from his hands gripping the steering wheel towards you in the passenger seat.

“I like you. I’ve liked you before Eargasm Jungkook,” you could’ve sworn the sky began plummeting down on you while you just sat amongst the deafening silence, with your heart poured out before you — and still Jungkook said nothing, “Uh, you know what forget I ever. .” you paused taking another look in his direction but Jungkook simply hid behind wide eyes, “actually, no. Scratch that. I like you but I’ll be okay.”

“You are much braver than me, you know,” he spoke quietly, “a lot of my life I’ve lived hidden behind JK and though he is my other half he is not truly who I am. He is much more courageous than I’ll ever be but you were brave so I know I owe you a reciprocation of the same transparency. I’ve liked you from the moment I walked into class that very first day and I’ve only fallen for you harder with each passing day.”

“Jungkook.”

He hummed.

“Kiss me.”

In the matter of seconds the two of you climbed over to the back seat — the clashing of your body heat drew sweat beads to cascade down your temples. Your attention was far off that though, instead you were lulled by the softness of his silken lips pressed against yours. You could feel the thud of your combined heartbeat in the way your bodies were pressed so tightly against each other. His palm resided by your waist as he continued tugging at your top.

He pulled away, keeping his forehead pressed against yours, “are you sure you want to do this here?”

You looked around feeling locked in by the tint of Jungkook’s car windows, “I’m sure.”

Before your back could meet his leather seat, Jungkook began pulling your panties down and pushing your denim skirt up past your belly button. Jungkook was always gentle whether it was with his words or his touch, that was the truth, and today was no different.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Jungkook’s usual dove eyes were now burning with hunger — desire. His hands rested on your knees and he began spreading your legs farther and farther away from each other causing your underwear to become soaked. You hadn’t really noticed how spacious the back of his car was until now, until he kneeled in front of you. His fingers traced the outline of your thighs as he reached under your skirt quickly pulling your panties down to your ankles.

You closed your eyes, melting back into the seat. The feeling came in waves you quickly realized. First, there was the anticipation as your body urged him to touch your body but he only allowed his digits to cloud over your cunt. Then, there was the taunting of his teasing touch where he would drag the pads of his fingers along your folds — a touch so agonizing you found yourself driving your hips against him for some relief.

“Come on, doll,” Jungkook cooed as two of his fingers sat at your entrance with no intention of moving, “I thought you were more patient than this.”

“I’ll be good,” you heaved, “I promise.”

“Promise?” He pushed past the muscle of your entrance quickly invading your insides and in that moment you could’ve sworn you were no longer in his car — instead you lived amongst the celestial body of lumineers lighting the night sky. Words poured out of you in the form of profanities featured by the moans you couldn’t seem to suppress the quicker he pumped in and out of you.

That was it. That feeling. You held on as if your life depended on it. There was nothing, nothing else that could claim your attention the way Jungkook was at that very moment.

“Oh, right there,” your nails dug into his shoulder blades as he reached the very spot in your insides which blurred your vision and caused your legs to shake just a bit, “j-just keep going right there.”

His lips quickly landed on yours for a kiss so torrid you could taste the remnants of his cherry chapstick on your tongue. Enveloped by the overstimulation of the kiss and his fingers inside of you, the remaining piece of string which held you together snapped and behind your eyelids all you saw were spots of flashing white lights.

“Jungkook. .” You waited just a moment to catch your breath before patting the seat right beside you, “come sit with me. Unwind.”

“It’s hard to think of anything else when you’re sitting right beside me looking like that,” he hummed, “ all fucked out when I’ve only fingered you.”

“Just. . trust me,” As soon as he sat you placed your hand on his chest climbing onto his lap placing your legs on either side of his, “will you do that?”

“I trust you.”

Even the mess Jungkook had already created in between your thighs you felt that concupiscent armor burning deep inside of you — it was like a wildfire you couldn’t extinguish. Jungkook’s hands landed on your waist, his grip was sweaty against your skin, he began you forward and backward on his lap. And you began reciprocating that movement at a rhythm equivalent to his.

The temperature continued to rise within the enclosure of his car and a mixture of his rough grunts and your pleased hums began to fill the space. His clothed cock and your bare clit continued to meet in the filthiest of ways yet you couldn't resist but cry out for more. You craved more.

“I-I need you, Jungkook,” you whimpered.

If you thought you’d known pleasure before there was nothing compared to the way Jungkook’s massive cock felt inside your walls. It’s as if his dick was personally crafted to slip into you. God, he wasn’t moving a single muscle — you weren’t either and still you couldn’t help the countless moans dripping right off your lips.

“Are you okay?” he asked, “can I move?”

“Please,” you cried out.

In being the embodiment of sin, Jungkook embraced his mercilessness as a result of your yelp when his cock rammed into you with a drawn out yet deep thrust. As he slipped in and out if you saw the way he almost pulled out entirely only to guide you back down harshly on his length. Over and over and over. Your head lulled back and you were sure your rolled eyes could recite the contents of the inside of your skull.

“D-don’t stop,” you choked out, placing a hand on the hood for support as Jungkook continued to have you at his mercy, “I’m so close.”

You couldn’t really see in the midst of the pleasure coursing through you but you could feel the way his warm lips landed kisses around your breasts while his hands caressed your sides.

“P-please don’t stop,” the car began moving along with his pace and you were sure the others around you were now aware of the events unfolding right beside them. But you didn’t fucking care. Jungkook’s hand reached down in between your thighs near the exact point where his length disappeared inside of you, and he began stimulating your clit — drawing out small circles. You were shaking with pleasure spilling a string of curses. This continued until you finally reached your peak through screams of his name and your juices coating his cock while he poured into you.

“Fuck,” you cried out sweetly as he pulled out, “that was amazing.”

“It was better than amazing.”

You laid your back against him as he wrapped you up in his warm embrace. The two of you were warm and sweaty, “so what’s on the itinerary for tomorrow?” You asked.

“We’ll go anywhere you wanna go. Together.”

“Together,” you smiled.

a/n: this is mildly edited sooo . . . thread lightly for any mistakes lol. Also, the smut is pretty average but my brain wasn’t working so sorry about that in advance <3

🔖: @shaybtsfoever @bjoriis @sharkipoonis @hoseokteardrop @ravensidea @skzthinker @cherryluvhobi

reblogs, likes, comments, replies are always appreciated.

#bts #bts smut #bts reactions #bts imagines #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook imagine #jungkook drabble #brief mention of tae namjoon and mr. kim aka kim seokjin #bts jungkook smut

1K notes · View notes

becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 3 months

Note

routine vibe check: what’s the best starter pokemon and why are you right (pictures and long paragraphs of evidence welcomed and appreciated)

Gonna get a good grade in vibe check, normal to want and inevitable to achieve because I have objectively correct Pokemon opinions and will block naysayers

OKAY LET'S GO

I decided to do, like, a top 5 list or something, because I'm bad at picking a single favourite of stuff. And then even that overwhelmed me, so I found one of those tier ranking list sites and produced this:

It was done in less than a minute, so if I wanted to get really picky, I don't know if I would be fully wedded to it (not sure if maybe Sceptile should be one higher) BUT it did help to highlight the important ones.

So!

5. Bulbasaur

It's. Just. So. Nice.

Like you can find cooler, more beautiful, cuter, fancier... there's a whole bunch of ways for a Pokemon to be great. But you will never ever find a nicer Pokemon than Bulbasaur. It's so lovely. Look at it. Look at its face.

I can't put it higher, because the rest of the line is fairly bland in terms of development. It's good and logical and fun, don't get me wrong, but Ivysaur and Venusaur just look like bigger versions with More Flower and Less Cute rather than creatures in their own right. To be honest, if it weren't a starter requiring a three-stage evolution, you could do away with Ivysaur. Something I don't like about a lot of lazy three-step lines is that the middle step just looks like a transitional mid phase rather than a Proper Creacher, like they were artificially inflating the Pokemon number count. Meanwhile it took us until Paldea to get a Girafarig evo that would actually make the giraffe tall. Madness.

However my first ever Pokemon was a Bulbasaur I called Daffodil, and I have traded him forward onto every single successive generation since. He is, quite literally, my First Ever Pokemon. I love him desperately. I still have him. Not many people still have their First Ever Pokemon. But I do and I love him. So, Bulbasaur gets the fifth spot.

4. Snivy

Again, a victim of the Banal Transitional Middle Evo, but both Snivy and Serperior are incredible, and as Meatloaf took such pains to tell us, two out of three ain't bad.

But Snivy! It's so snooty! I was super lucky with mine, too, because I beat the 12.8% odds and got a female, and I loved her. Normally the initial baby starters are designed to be cute but Snivy has SO MUCH PERSONALITY, she's great. And the design of Serperior is utterly gorgeous. She keeps the expression, but rather than the Animal Crossing-style snooty-cute vibe of Snivy you get this thousand yard withering stare of an empress whose servant (you) has just turned up dripping mud in her throne room and asked her for money. Her green and gold colour scheme is exquisite. Her filigree design, including her high collar, give off the air of wealth and sophistication befitting her immaculate pedigree. And all this! In a simple snake. Incredible design work, 10 out of 10, no notes.

Begone, you miserable peasant. Have him boiled.

3. Torchic

Now I'll be real with you, lads, but Pokemon design hit its stride with Hoenn and then got better.

It's partly a fashion thing, of course - you look at some of the Kanto designs and they are remarkably 90s, because that's when the franchise launched. Others are clearly a product of what the 1990's were capable of producing in pixels on an already over-stretched cartridge medium. Like we like to clown on Red and Green/Blue now, but my god, those game designers performed a miracle with Pokemon. Every single square inch of space was used to make that game, and complex designs weren't going to cut it.

(With that said, there is still no excuse for Dragonite.)

And then Johto came about and its Pokedex sucks ass. It's mostly new evolutions for existing Kanto stars, useless babies to inflate the dex number, or poorly thought out single-evos like the inexplicably short Girafarig and the unacceptably dreary Dunsparce (our greatest thanks to Paldea for fixing both of those).

BUT THEN CAME HOENN (trumpets intensify)

And we get habitats! Biomes! A different regional climate, gifting us a brand new area of Pokecology! And therefore a brand new flush of creativity in Pokemon design across the board; less dated, and more inclined to be unique rather than a rehash of Kantonian stuff.

Which brings me nicely to this lad:

Now, I mean. Just look at him. Fucking hell. Cute starter stage, check. LOOK AT HIM FACE

AND THEN he became, at the time, a brand-new unique typing: Fire/Fighting. I realise that is now the norm for like, half of the Fire starters, but that's because of Torchic, actually. He was super popular. In fact if you ever play Ruby/Sapphire/Emerald and you do what my husband and I like to call a Mynci Dave run (use one Pokemon almost exclusively, meaning it gets all the experience points and therefore over-levels to a terrifying degree, allowing you to sweep the game; so named after the noble Primeape we first did this with, Mynci Dave), Torchic is the PERFECT Pokemon to choose, because almost everything is weak to either Fire or Fighting in that region.

Anyway, Combusken is, again, kind of mid (although props for the inverted colour scheme and the fact that it actually does look like a teenager.) But Blaziken, on the other hand... Blaziken is a six foot ninja chicken with wings for hair whose Pokedex entry describes it as able to leap tall peaks in a single bound, a feat it achieves after strengthening its legs by hoofing Geodudes down mountains like they're fucking footballs

Also an impressive bulge.

My first was called Gilgamesh, and he was fucking great. For a long time, this mad lad was my actual favourite Pokemon, not just starter. Brilliant. Love him. Five stars out of three. King.

2. Fuecoco

It would probably surprise you to know I've not actually used one. I chose Sprigatito, and I do really like Meowscarada, actually. But pretty anthro cat boys have been done in Pokemon quite a bit at this point; cats, dogs and rabbits are over-represented in terms of Poke-taxa. Possibly this is another reason for a toad, a snake and a chicken being 5, 4 and 3 so far (ooh, basilisk ingredients, I've just realised.) They're new and unusual! I like an Eeveelution as much as the next person, but they're a whole family of cat-dog-rabbits, like.

However.

Nintendo has tried its hand at Pokecrocodilians three times (Feraligatr, Krookodile, Skeledirge), and they have gotten so much better at design each time that the three of them are basically a scale proxy for ongoing design improvement. Look, I've made a diagram:

EXCEPT

(Strap in)

This one is that rare thing: a three step line that deserves to be a three step line. Let's talk Fuecoco first:

SO CUTE. It's charming, it's charismatic, it's adorable.

It also has hints of its evolutionary end goal, but not like an undeveloped middle evo. It likes singing. The white face hints at the eventual calavera, and it looks a bit like a lil chilli pepper - a ghost pepper, probably in reference to the eventual Fire/Ghost typing. But the colours and shape right now also look a bit reminiscent of a babygro, because this thing is a cute starter. Lookit them teefs. That tuft. Its lovely smile. Beautiful.

And then, at the point you expect it to turn into just the awkward teenage version of the adult, instead we get Crocator:

Oh boy. Oh there's so much to say. Okay okay:

The region it's from is based on Spain, but this thing is incorporating Hispanic elements from across the board. It's a mariachi in a sombrero, except the sombrero also looks kind of like a ring of Mexican marigolds and kind of like a Catalonian Easter cake called Mona de Pascua that has an egg (or egg-shaped confectionary) in the middle. Body shape and markings look kind of like a piñata. The white face is now on its way to a calavera, with the cheek and nostril markings more defined. And it sings, with its open mouth (also how crocodiles release heat, appropriate for a Fire type) and signified by the mariachi theme.

THAT IS A LOT.

And then it becomes Skeledirge. A Fire/Ghost crocodile.

Now the obvious design here is the calavera and the Día de Muertos theming, which is part of it. But there are also many examples of crocodile figures in Spanish folkloric ghost stories: the Catalonian Cocollona, the Lizard of Magdalena from Jaén, or the Drac de Na Coca, or even the Cuca - that one is Portuguese, but turns up in both Brasil and the Iberian Peninsula including in parts of Spain. It's got a Gaudi vibe (like Barcelona). It's got an alebrije vibe (like Mexico).

And the bird! Nile crocs have a cleaning symbiosis with Egyptian plovers; it also sits at the tip of the snout where male gharials have a sort of bulbous bit to help them make sounds (the singing thing).

But this is what the bird does when Skeledirge uses Torch Song:

youtube

It becomes a microphone, then grows in size and attacks the opponent in Phoenix form. Phoenix: Fire/Ghost. Resurrected from the ashes.

Quite simply, your fave could never.

5. Rowlet

My god. (My god)

gasp

Look at this lovely creacher. He is so round and so soft and so lovely. He looks like that baby Yoda meme. He looks like that cat that someone's landlord said they would make an exception for because he looks very polite. Look!!! At his lil bow tie!!! He is a smartly dressed young man and he is kind and he is... well, a bit vacant behind the eyes. A himbo, if you will. But he is all the better for that. What a lovely owl.

He looks a little like a barn owl, perhaps, and those were imported to Hawai'i, where Rowlet is from. But I think he looks a little like a Pueo owl, and given that he will eventually be a Ghost type, that seems right - pueos are one of the physical forms assumed by ʻaumākua in Hawai'ian culture, as I understand it.

And then, hang onto your tits, lads, because this is another banger - THE MIDDLE EVOLUTION IS ITS OWN DESIGN!!! (confetti cannons)

I said earlier that boring middle evos are like just awkward teenagers of the adults. Here, I present to you, a very deliberate Awkward Teenager, in Dartrix:

IT'S A DANDY

I love him I love him I love him

He plays with his fringe and if you touch it without permission he has a tantrum. God, he's so charismatic. Also, that fringe further suggests the pueo - they have pronounced outer rims around their facial disks like that. Look at his bow tie and tail coat. So smart and handsome

This one is so good that it could be the final evo. This is actually my issue with the Delphox line - Braixen is amazing, and then it becomes the bland boredom of Delphox. Braixen should have been the final stop. Here, Dartrix is much the same - good enough to be a high-quality end goal.

Where they differ is that Decidueye is better again.

IT SHOOTS ARROWS MADE OF ITS OWN QUILLS

Also, fun fact - This line is the only starter to change secondary typing. Dartrix is part Flying; but on evolving a second time into Decidueye, it switches to Grass/Ghost. In this evolution, it's definitely mostly a pueo, so the ʻaumākua reference is IN, but actually barn owls also have their associations with the dead in various cultures.

The crown of feathers around its head are also reminiscent of an ayaigasa - a hat worn by Japanese samurai archers. And yet! AND YET!

It still has its lil bow tie look. Bigger now, more of a cravat; but there it is.

A perfect Pokemon, and a perfect evolutionary line. No notes.

Anyway, thank you for this chance to waste three and a half hours writing this essay

#asks #pokemon #long post #gif

260 notes · View notes

okiedokrie · 23 days

Text

High Infidelity

Summary: There are many different ways that you could kill the one you love, the slowest way is never loving them enough. So what happens when you find someone who was all too willing to give you thee attention you craved, you said you'd only dip your toes into the idea, and yet, you find yourself already drowning. The novel you've been writing has been in progress for the better half of two years now, your writer's block beating you up, and your husband hasn't shown you any sympathy. Maybe a visit to the art exhibit from this new artist would jog your creativity, but what happens when this new artist offers you more than just relief from your writer's block?

Characters/Pairing(s): Xu Minghao (The8) x F!Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

AUs/Trope info: Non-idol!AU, Aged-Up!AU, Right Person (not) Too Late

Word Count: 10.6k

Warnings: Infidelity, very inappropriate conversations with a married woman, afab!reader, wears dresses, lmk if i miss something!! (Smut warnings under the cut)

Rating: 18+

A/N: banner and dividers by @daemour!! tysm!! This is also a rewrite/reupload of my own fic, "High Infidelity" on @pyeonghongrie, yes I reskinned my own fic.

A/N 2: Thanks to @nebulousbrainsoup, @kwanisms, @the-boy-meets-evil, @wooahaeproductions, and @gongiz for beta-reading!

Smut Warnings: tipsy sex (not drunk), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, nipple stimulation, masturbation, lmk if i missed anything!

The rain soaked into your skin—cold and icy—piercing you painfully. All your personal belongings were strewn all around you, and your soon-to-be ex-husband was angrily slamming the door shut, but you couldn't help but feel relieved.

After all, you were finally free.

"I'm right here, honey, I love you." He whispers into your skin, slowly unbuttoning your shirt, one button at a time. He kisses your skin every time new skin is revealed to both of you, he kisses your skin so delicately as if you'd break at the slightest touch-

"Y/N, you still haven't dealt with the dishes yet." Your husband, Haru, said monotonously just as you were starting to gain momentum in your writing.

You groan, the interruption making you lose focus and motivation to write. You stare at the last word on your document, gaze burning into each pixel as if hoping that this piece would write itself.

Unfortunately, life said, "Fuck you."

With another groan, you rub and pinch the bridge of your nose, a headache starting to settle in as your husband returns to work as if he didn't just cause you a serious inconvenience.

Standing from your comfortable computer chair, you take calm and even strides toward your kitchen, where only a handful of dishes are left in the sink.

And this little shit didn't even bother washing like, what? 8 dishes? He has to be kidding me, men.

You thought to yourself, your inner monologue only making you more irritated. But you wash them in silence, thinking of ways to calm down and clear your head so you have a clean slate to work with to get inspired again.

I think I should visit the gallery again, there's this new artist that I've been following. He's getting pretty popular, maybe I could draw inspiration from his work?

You think maybe this is the best idea you've had since you put bacon bits on mac & cheese.

Taking the time to visit this gorgeous gallery was the correct move.

Xu Minghao is a passionate man, you can see his dedication to his craft in all the pieces in this gallery. He was a mixed media artist, sometimes his work was pops of color on a canvas, others were sculptures made of clay, made with the most delicate of hands, and others were more niche, like the stained glass piece in another part of the gallery.

One thing about Minghao's work is that his subjects are also subjects of passion.

Paintings of a man's devotion to worshiping his lover's skin, a stained glass recreation of The Birth of Venus by Botticelli, and his latest masterpiece, simply titled "Passion", a sculpture of a woman in the throes of pleasure, with her lover holding her close to him, no gap between their skin, eternally locked in a passionate embrace.

As a romance writer, this is exactly what you need.

You take in this sculpture, the light of the gallery display emphasizing the delicate attention to detail this piece had, you know the man who made this takes pride in this, his work, skills, and dedication finally being realized.

You stare in awe at this piece for a little over 20 minutes, the more you look at it, the more entranced you become of the mastery of this craft.

You feel a presence beside you, a man around 5'11", slightly muscular build, in a turtleneck with glasses sitting delicately on his nose. He has a peculiar hairstyle, a mullet to be exact, and the most gorgeous face you've ever laid your eyes on.

"I see you like this piece in particular," He started, hands in his trouser pockets while smiling fondly at the piece, "'Passion' was a difficult piece for me to finish, ironically enough, I got bored of it quite easily." He continues, turning to face you.

"I'm Minghao, by the way, Xu Minghao. If you haven't already figured it out." He takes a hand out of his pocket, extending it towards you.

"Oh, I'm Y/N, Park Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you, Minghao. Your exhibit is astounding, I love your dedication to your work." You take his hand to shake it,

He chuckles at the compliment, "Oh please, save your praise, I know that name from anywhere. I love your latest work, that book was what inspired this entire collection, to begin with."

You gawk at him, oh my god, he reads smut. My smut.

"Oh my, what an honor! I'm glad you also enjoy my work." You receive the compliment gracefully, "Although, I do want to hear more about why you got bored of this piece in particular, such a wonder to the arts community, surely you aren't downplaying your work?"

He smiles, perfect teeth on display, you swear you’ve never looked at a man like this in your life. You were down bad for his smile.

"I'm not saying I think it's bad, I just got bored of the creative process." He explains, "Although I do want to continue adding to this collection, perhaps we can go and get drinks together? Exchange ideas?" he offers.

You ponder on this for a bit. Going out to drinks with a budding friend wouldn't hurt, right?

"Could I give you my number? Let's set aside a day to chat. I have to get home to my husband before it gets too late."

A smirk came into his face, something dark about a seemingly insignificant change in his expression, “Of course, I look forward to our time together.”

The mug in your hands warmed your palms, and your focus was fixated on the man in front of you. He talked about another piece of his, titled “Longing”; it was heavily inspired by his desire to find someone who shares the same passion as him, the longing to hold someone in a way that nobody else could, intimacy in its purest form.

“It sounds a bit pathetic, I’m known for my work in the art of passion and, to put it simply, sex; but I haven’t been able to find the company of a lover myself. Perhaps that’s just the consequence of being a hopeless romantic. Then again, you wouldn’t know the feeling of being lonely, I assume.” He said calmly, a small chuckle ending his tangent.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” You look into the mug in your hands, your reflection swirling in the tea. Your face looks back at you, eyes sunken in and sad, “To put it nicely… my husband robs me of solitude, but fails to offer me company.” You shouldn’t be talking about Haru like this. Your husband works many hours, tirelessly providing you with the house and connections for you to pursue a career in writing. But that wasn’t the reason why your anxiety was swirling in your stomach.

Looking back up at Minghao, the same dark expression sits on his face, a minuscule smirk, barely there even if you squint, “Well, we’re friends now, aren’t we? I could keep you company.”

That. That was a quality of his that you noticed fairly early on. You can never read his true intentions, suggestive prose with just enough deniability to gracefully reject him without the conversation becoming inappropriate.

But your anxiety wasn’t caused by that, no, it was caused by the fact that you didn’t want to reject him.

“I’d like that, Maybe we could head to a bar and get drinks there too? My husband won’t be back for a few months because of a business trip in a few weeks. I could use the company.” You say, looking at him through your lashes; he knows his effect on you, and the mental gymnastics that both of you play over the table was just appropriate enough that to anyone listening, it’s just two friends agreeing to get drinks sometime in the future.

But to both of you, well, only the two of you know what’ll happen once the sun goes down.

“Of course, my schedule is free for the rest of the month. Be sure to think of me if you need company.” He offers you a soft smile, directly contrasting how intensely he’s making eye contact with you. The way he’s looking into your eyes makes you feel vulnerable like he’s directly using them as windows into your head. You’re half-convinced he could read your mind, if he could, he’s a master at hiding it.

You haven’t learned much about him, but from what you do know, you can never take his words at surface level, much less his actions. The way he’s leaning over the table, elbows on the surface, and his shoulders relaxed. His closing the distance, even if just by a hair, and the way his posture suggested the epitome of familiarity, shook you to your core.

His presence is almost suffocating, his dominance over your mind silencing whatever protest his suggestions may have created. You nod dumbly, “Of course, be warned though, I think of you a lot.” This causes his smile to relax into a smirk, the kind that could pass off as a smile if you don’t think too hard about it.

“I’m glad to hear that. I think about you a lot too.” He says picking up his cup of tea, “So much that a collection was born from the thought of you.” He takes a sip from the cup in his hands, eyes meeting yours over the rim of the cup, the way he holds eye contact with you always makes goosebumps litter your skin, the cup hiding the growing smirk on his face, silently enjoying his effect on you.

“Ah, speaking of the collection,” He started again, after setting the cup down, “Would you do me the honor of visiting my studio sometime? I’ll text you the address right now, you can come by at any time if you’re interested.” Taking his phone out from his pocket, feeling your phone vibrate in your pocket, you pick it up. The small device, usually light, feels like a heavy weight on your palm.

Opening your messages, you see that Minghao already sent the address, a building about 20 minutes from the cafe you’re in right now. “Lovely, could I trouble you to pick me up when I decide to visit?” You ask,

“Of course,” He replies, a gentle smile stretches across his face, “I’d love nothing more than to see you more often.”

The first time you entered Minghao’s studio, it felt like a dream. The studio wasn’t small by any means, the place was neat, neater than what you imagined any artist studio would look like. “Make yourself at home, I’ll brew some tea for us,” Minghao said as he took both your coats. Hanging the heavy fabrics on his coat rack, he gently guides you to the couches with a hand on your back, the light touch helping to ground you in this new environment.

He shoots you a quick smile before turning his back to you, setting his electric kettle to boil the water at the perfect temperature for tea. He rummages through his extensive tea set collection, settling on a simple white ceramic set with wooden handles. His eyes meet yours briefly, taking note of how you watch his every movement with care and curiosity, the way you were fascinated with the way his hand veins jumped every time he set a piece of the tea set down.

The kettle finishes boiling, he finally sets it down next to the tea set. “I want to introduce you to this teacake that my friend from home sent me,” He pulls out a teacake about the size of his head from the drawer under the table, wrapped in a slightly stained paper. He carefully unwraps it to show you the rich brown of the aged tea leaves, “This is a 15-year-old aged pu’er, I haven’t had the chance to try it yet, so I’d like to try this with you.”

“What an honor, I read from a recent interview that you were waiting for a good day to taste that right?” You ask, trying to gauge his reaction, if he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it,

“Of course, making a new friend is a special occasion, isn’t it? I’d consider that a good day.” He replies cooly, taking a tea knife and carving out a piece of tea to steep for a second, you watch as he delicately handles the porcelain set, the control in his movements reminding you of his mastery in sculpting, “You know, making tea is much like cultivating a new relationship,” he starts as he stands up to take the kettle off the stand.

“You carefully carve out your leaves, boil your water to the perfect temperature to bloom them, and steep the leaves a few seconds at a time.” You see him pour the water over the tea leaves, dried blades blooming like flowers under the delicate stream. “Each steep of tea is different, starting from the bloom until the flavor develops; and only then will you appreciate the true complexities of what tea has to offer.”

A small smile grows on your face as you watch him pour the first bloom onto his tea pets, “If my assessment is correct, you’re trying to correlate the developing flavors of tea with how our relationship is progressing?” He nods, confirming your hypothesis, “Then, I’ll ask you a question, which steep are we on?” you say with a cheeky smile.

Minhao grins at this, eyes almost disappearing with how wide his smile was, “Literally? The second steep.” He says as he pours more water over the leaves, you let out a chuckle at his little joke, “Figuratively? The fifth.”

You tilt your head a bit, “The fifth? I didn’t realize we were already at that stage.” you say as you accept his offer of a teacup.

He chuckles, “Well, I don’t just share my most expensive teas with anyone, so I might as well share it with one of the most brilliant minds I know.” he said while bringing the cup to his lips, sipping the drink carefully while making eye contact with you over the rim, winking playfully.

You raise your cup as well, the rising steam not being the only reason for your flushed face, you grin against the rim of your cup, savoring the rich and deep aroma of the high-quality tea.

After a while of banter and small talk, you finish your tea, setting down your cup gently on his expensive-feeling coffee table, he stands from his seat, “Could I show you something?” he said, holding his hand out to you. You place your palm on his, the warmth from his hand seeping into your skin. The touch was negligible, simple, even, but the contact with his skin sent electricity through you, like a violent jolt of excitement.

Minghao notices this and smirks, feeling pride swell up in his chest as he pulls you up from the couch, leading you to the other side of the room with a hand on the small of your back. He finally stops in front of a large canvas, laid across what looks like a bare-bones bed frame. You turn to him, curiosity growing on the expression of your face.

“What’s this? This looks fairly new, the paint on the frame still seems wet.” You ask, eyes raking over the splotches of color seemingly placed without much thought or care, it looked like the aftermath of a messy and angry paint spill.

“It is new,” Minghao starts, “I’m trying a new technique where I release frustrations by getting whatever paint catches my eye and throwing cups of it without much thought.” He shrugs, nothing particularly of note, but you do notice the amount of emotion that is in the piece.

“It’s not an elegant piece, but for a collection centered around passion I find it missing raw emotion.” He runs his hand through his face, frustration taking over his features, something you noticed early on was his emotions were closely tied to whatever art was around him, it seems as though the frustration in this one was affecting him at this moment.

“Yes, the human form and sex are great subjects, but pure, raw emotion is hard to capture.” He mumbled, eyebrows furrowing. “So, that’s why I invited you here. Tell me, as someone who’s written longing, despair, and everything in between. How does this make you feel?”

You pause and take in his words, turning back to the canvas and trying to soak in the colors, the shapes, and the emotion behind this piece. Yes, frustration is here. Yes, anger is here. But how does it make you feel?

“It makes me feel like I’m missing out on something.” You say simply, your stomach sinking just thinking about what that might entail. Minghao has a genuine look of shock for the first time since you’ve met him. His head tilted to give his attention to you fully.

“Really? Interesting. That’s the first time I heard that about this piece specifically.” He said with a lopsided grin, seemingly getting a new stroke of genius with your answer. He looks back at the canvas too, shoulders shaking from his restricted laughs. Your answer seemed to entertain him a lot. That much you can figure out, but you can never be sure what goes on in the mind of Xu Minghao.

Just then, your phone starts to ring, you only know one person who would call you at this hour—your Husband. You watch as the expression on Minghao’s face falls, face contorting into something short of a scowl for a split second before settling on his usual cool neutral expression. It was so quick that you barely missed the change, it happened so quickly that you decided it was all in your imagination as you ran to answer the phone.

You pick up the phone, “Hi honey-” You were cut off by your husband speaking,

“Get home, it’s getting late and you haven’t started dinner yet.” He said simply, before promptly dropping the call.

You stand there, the line going dead as you try to hold back tears. You take a deep breath, too afraid to show your face to Minghao in case tears were about to fall from your face. Grabbing your coat, you turn to face the door.

“Thank you for inviting me over, I have to get home now,” you said, your voice a little shaky, as you roughly opened the door.

You were out of his sight as Minghao stood alone in his studio, pondering. As silence took over the space, a dark smirk on his face.

'How long before you break?' he wonders.

The next time you and Minghao meet, you’re sitting on a park bench watching the autumn leaves dance to the silent song in the wind. You’re pulled out of your thoughts when you hear leaves crunch beside you, seeing the tail of Minghao’s long coat swaying in the wind.

He sees you, a smile spreading across his face, his long hair almost covering his face. His fast-paced walking makes the leaves crunch under his weight rhythmically. You think that he looks beautiful under the soft brightness of the autumn morning, only ever seeing him in the harsh rays of high noon or the constant humming of fluorescent lights.

You feel the heat radiating off his body through your and his coats as he sits next to you on the park bench. “Beautiful morning, the view is exquisite.” He says, looking directly at you. You giggle at this, he’s always been such a charmer ever since you met him. You peel the notebook from your lap, “I’m no artist, but the park is too gorgeous this time of year to not at least try to capture on paper.” you say as you open it to show him a relatively crude sketch of the scenery.

“Oh? This feels like a threat to my career.” He says with a chuckle, “But, genuinely, this is an amazing sketch. Are you sure you aren’t an artist?” You think you could get used to how relaxed you were around Minghao, conversations with him flowed so easily, it reminds you of the times your husband used to be invested in you as a person. Perhaps it was easier to compare the thrill of meeting a new person with feeling the start of a romantic spark, it was a dangerous game to play with him.

“No, I’m not, but I can appreciate a masterpiece when I see one.” You say, this time looking at him. He notices this and laughs at the fact that his joke is being used against him. He closes the notebook, handing it to you to put in your tote bag.

“The weather is perfect for a walk, care to join me?” He said, offering his hand for you to take. You accept the offer, the warmth of his palm being something to ground you on such a dreamy morning. Leaves crunch under both your weights in synch, your hand moves from his to hold onto his arm, and you try not to notice the lean muscle of it or the steady and secure way he guides you through the path.

You breathe in the autumn chill, enjoying the comfortable silence that followed the quiet whistle of the wind. “Your book,” Minghao said, his silky voice cutting through the silence effortlessly, “The one that inspired the collection, I’ve been following your publisher’s updates on the series, and I was wondering if you'd be able to share your progress on the second book?”

“Ah, about that.” You grimace, and you shake your head, quelling the urge to complain about your husband’s lack of sympathy for your predicament. “Maybe I’ll tell you another time, it’s not something I can talk about at the moment.”

Before you can correct the old man, Minghao speaks up, “Of course, could I take three of these?” He said, pointing at the basket of Jonquils.

He hums, luckily, Minghao was never the type to pry, “I get it, ever the tortured poet you are.” he said in a joking tone, you let out a chortle at this, agreeing that you may or may not be one.

Both of you are stopped by a flower vendor, “You both are a lovely pair,” The old man starts, as he turns to Minghao, he asks, “Could I interest you in some flowers? I’m sure your lady would appreciate them.” He smiles.

“Of course, you’re in luck too, these are the last off-season flowers I had in my greenhouse.” the old man said as his nimble fingers wrapped the flowers in some yellow tissue paper.

“I'm really lucky indeed.” He agreed while looking at you, your cheeks warming up at the implication. Minghao accepts the flowers and happily pays for them, gracefully handing the bundle to you.

Holding onto the stems, your fingertips graze over the delicate petals of the bright yellow flowers. “Thank you Minghao, they're beautiful.”

He smiles at the way you look at the flowers fondly, simply adoring the way your face lit up; literally, the yellow from the flowers reflected off your face and gave it a yellow hue.

“Shall we continue to walk?” He asks, offering his arm for you to hold again, you hold onto it, the flowers in your other hand. And you let the silence take over again.

Before you knew it, you've spent the entire day laughing and talking with Minghao, only stopping at several vendors for food and other trinkets, feeding the ducks berries, and watching the fish in the pond.

But the day has to end at some point.

You regretfully leave Minghao at the train station, waving goodbye through the glass of the train doors as you watch his figure get smaller and smaller.

Arriving home, you try to find a vase to put your flowers in, setting it down on the kitchen counter, your husband walks in and sees them.

“They're ugly, don't put them anywhere where I could see them.”

He said coldly, you try your best not to scoff at him, still searching for a vacant vase.

Finally finding one, you decide to place the flower vase on the windowsill of your office, the bright flowers contrasting everything else in the room, the dark and neutral furniture your husband got for you.

You jolt, realizing you're comparing your husband to another man.

You expected guilt to eat you up at the realization, but really, you couldn't find a reason to keep defending Haru.

“Could you come over to the studio later tonight? I don't think I should be alone.”

This text from Minghao worried you a bit, you've been spending a lot of time with him recently, you met him 6 more times after he got you flowers at the park, and you never noticed that he could deal with something so sinister.

Of course, you agree to come, your closest confidant in your adult life needs you right now. You wait for your husband to fall asleep in his office, again, before you leave the house, walking to the end of the block before calling a cab.

Arriving at his studio, you already knew the code, punching in the numbers 150526 on the smart lock, the studio opens with a click.

You take cautious steps into the studio, seeing the silhouette of a man on the couch, his back towards the door, nursing what you assume is a wine glass in his hand.

He turns his head to face the door, “You came.” He said, with relief in his voice, a little slurred from the alcohol you assume.

“You called.” You replied. Shrugging off your coat to hang, you join him on the couch. He looked a lot more disheveled compared to the usual clean and put-together Minghao that you know.

His hair is slicked back, some pieces of hair falling onto his face, his tie loosened, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal his collarbones and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And glasses resting lowly on his nose.

You look at his face, and you notice dark circles around his eyes.

“Drink, and stay with me. Please.” He asks, no, almost begs you. You don't have the heart to decline. He pours you your glass and you both toast your glasses together.

You take the normal sip and he downs the rest of his, taking in a deep breath as if to steady himself. “Y/N, there's something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach drops at this, anxiety filling the pit of it as you nervously wait for the rest of what he has to say.

“I think I'm in love with-” he pauses, “someone I shouldn't be in love with.” He finishes, leaning forward to pour himself another glass of wine.

Your face falls only slightly, a minuscule change in expression that neither you nor Minghao catch. You cross your hands over your lap as soon as you realize your silence.

“Why can't you be in love with them?” You ask. Your head tilts as you take another sip of your wine. He hums, a smile graces his lips, but it doesn't seem to reach his eyes.

“They refuse to be vulnerable with me, opening up throughout our time together then closing back in the next time I see them.” He says with some fondness, “Also, they're married to someone else.”

“You probably should've led with that.” You mumble lowly, “I see, I know that all too well, wanting someone you can't have, someone so close yet so far. It's suffocating, especially when you haven't felt like yourself in so long, and then this person comes around and gives color back to your sad, gray, life. It's cruel, actually.”

You realize you've been rambling, turning to meet Minghao's eyes, you notice an emotion swirling behind them, something bittersweet, a realization that may change the course of your relationship.

“Anyway, how did you end up falling for them in the first place?” You ask in an attempt to bring the conversation back to him,

“Well, at first it was just a cure for boredom, I saw how receptive they were to my advances and I thought their marriage served as a fun, harmless challenge for me. But I got to know them, spend time with them, I got to witness the color come back into their face and I couldn't help but find it beautiful. That fact that I did that, bring color back into their face, slowly becoming someone again. The moment I saw their face light up with a simple gift I knew I was down, down bad.”

You hum, thinking the person Minghao was talking about is one of the luckiest people in the world right now. To be loved by him was like witnessing Orpheus’ choiceless grief that drove him to save his lover from the underworld, it was like feeling the devotee's dread-filled need to turn around, it was like experiencing the immediate forgiveness of Eurydice.

You wanted to be loved by him.

You both continue to chat and drink, and it isn't long before the two of you finish your second bottle of wine, Minghao offers to pay for your cab home, and he decides he's going to sleep in his studio.

You reflect on the events of that night as you slip into the cold covers of your marital bed, your husband’s side tidy as it was for the past month.

You run your hand over the pristine and cold sheet, imagining someone else filling its space on your bed, as he does your heart.

Minghao added a new piece to his collection, his gallery is still a work in progress and you walk through familiar doors. The very same statue you were entranced by still sits by the entrance, and you see a very familiar figure standing in front of it.

“I feel like this already happened before.” You said cheekily, he snorts at this, handing you a paper bag with tissue paper peeking from the top.

“Maybe this happened before in a dream, maybe we were destined to meet under the judgemental fluorescent lights.” He jokes as you feel the weight of the bag on your fingers.

“What's in the bag, Hao?” You ask cautiously, mischief flashing on his face before he fully turns his body to you, giving you his full attention.

“It's something you might like, maybe.” He said, his confidence faltering toward the end of his sentence. Tucking his hands into his trouser pockets, he eagerly waits for you to open the semi-heavy bag.

You carefully move the paper to the side of the bag, seeing white porcelain peaking back at you, you whip your head with with your face showing an expression of surprise. Minghao smiles, enjoying your reaction to his gift.

“You got me a tea set? That's so thoughtful, thank you.” You say with a smile, inspecting the frog patterns in the glaze.

“You mentioned your husband is leaving for a business trip soon, so I figured you'd like a set so we can have tea at your place. I'll even bring you a teacake to keep.” He said as he pulled a hand out of his trousers, fixing a stray hair that fell from your up-do.

“It's perfect, thank you.” You said, looking up at him, a smile still on your face.

“Do you want to walk around the gallery with me? I added a few pieces since then, and I'd like to talk about them.” he said, offering his arm. You wrap another hand around him, the familiarity of his arm under your palm giving you a sense of calm.

You spent the rest of the day walking around the gallery and chatting, other gallery-goers openly gawked at Minghao. It was obvious, really, the artist is here in the flesh, and he's gorgeous.

Minghao stopped to entertain other guests too, seeing him in his element made pride swell in your chest. His work, and by extension him, is finally being recognized by more people in the community. His hard work and dedication paid off handsomely.

Stopping in front of a mural, you noticed it was a replica of a really old painting. A painting of Ares and Aphrodite getting caught by Hephestus.

“Oof, poor bastards.” You joke, Minghao found this funny too, chuckling with you.

“It’s almost comical how this painting compelled me. I don't know what drove me to recreate the thing as a whole mural, but we both know I'm a little crazy.” He says with a playful groan, you try to hold back a loud laugh by giggling into your palm.

“Well, dear Xu Minghao, everyone knows crazy people are geniuses.” squeezing his arm, you check out the side of his face. His side profile was so sharp and soft at the same time, the dichotomy of his features was an easy subject to study. He's a gorgeous man, too gorgeous for his own good you think.

You both sat down on the bench in front of the mural to chat, and before you knew it, enough time has passed that the gallery was about to close.

Minghao calls a cab for you, and you arrive home in-tact, but not safe.

“Y/n, where have you been running off to these past few weeks?” Your husband questioned you as soon as you entered your home. Your mood instantly dropped, feeling the weight of your actions all at once.

“I'm hanging out with a friend, and it's really not that deep. It's not like I've neglected house work at all. So you should have a reason to care.” You snap back, a little too much for such a simple query. Your husband rises from his seat, cupping your face with a gentle hand for the first time in a long time.

“You’re my wife, of course it's my concern.” He said, just as he was about to make you fall for him again, he said, “We haven't been intimate in a long time, I'm leaving in a few days, so I want to make love to you before I go.”

Ah, there it was. He only ever shows affection for you when he's asking for sex nowadays.

You nod, what followed was unfulfilling and unsatisfying sex. Missionary, a few pumps just to get him off, and he didn't even kiss you.

And obviously, he didn't make you cum.

Your husband is fast asleep in your bed for the first time in months, and yet you can't find it in yourself to be happy about it.

You take out your trusty friend, egg.

The jolts to life with steady vibrations as you press the toy to your clit, relaxing into the sheets as you imagine a pair of calloused hands roaming the plane of your skin.

Controlled pressure and technique only a sculptor could have, his hair falling over his face, and his eyes holding you gaze as if you gave him everything he could ever want by simply existing.

He looks at you like you hung each star in the sky just for him, just so he could watch your skin bathed in moonlight, twinkling like the most precious diamond he could ever have.

This man isn't your husband, It was Minghao.

Your orgasm came unexpectedly, the realization that you were fantasizing about him snapped you back into reality so violently that you ruined your own orgasm.

You huff as you tuck the toy back into its drawer, pulling up the covers to try and sleep off the guilt.

Your husband left for his business trip a few days ago, and you made preparations for your first guest in a while. You finally set up the tea set when you heard a knock at your door, springing up, you head towards the door to look through the peephole, you see Minghao dressed a little more casually, a cap on his head and a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

You swiftly unlock the door for him, he smiles upon seeing you, tipping his cap, he says, “Good evening, it's a pleasure to finally be invited into your home.” You greet him back, stepping to the side to let him enter. As he does, he takes his cap off to let his hair fall onto his face again.

He offers you the flowers and you take them, “I'll go find a vase for these, make yourself at home, dinner is still cooking in the oven.” You said as you turned back to find another vase.

After finding one and setting the flowers in your office again, you find Minghao setting a record on your turntable, a slow tune plays through the air, instantly making the room feel calmer and homey.

“I didn't pin you as the type to have such an extensive vinyl collection, you have good taste too.” He said, swaying to the music by shifting his weight from one leg to another.

“I didn't feel the need to mention it considering I haven't touched those in a while. My husband hates them.” You say solemnly.

“Well, he isn't here now. Let's enjoy the music,” he said, holding his hand out for you to take, “Dance with me?”

You smile as you take his hand, he suddenly pulls you towards him and you land on his chest, his arms wrapping around you securely as you sway to the calm of the music.

You think to yourself, This is nice, this is safe. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be married to Minghao instead.

You turn your head and press your ear to his chest, hear him breathe slowly, his heart beating rhythmically. This is the first time you were ever this close to him, practically holding him in a loving embrace.

His woody cologne almost distracts you, so seductive and masculine and you almost reach up to cup his face, to kiss him. Before you realize that he isn't your husband.

You're both snapped out of your little bubble when the oven dings, signaling that dinner is ready. You break away from him, already missing his warmth as you set the dining table, one that hasn't been used in a while.

You eat dinner with him, talking about your days and how work has been. It's a welcome change of pace from your husband’s tolerance of your presence. You didn't have to beg Minghao for footnotes on his life, you didn't feel like you're taking up too much of his space or time.

It's safe, secure. It feels like you're being celebrated for existing.

You dwell on this feeling long after Minghao heads home, your stomach and heart full. As you slip into the covers you wonder what it'll feel like to hold him under them, for him to kiss the crown of your head and whisper the three words you desperately wanted to hear again.

You fall asleep with the fantasy that when you wake up, he'll be right next to you.

Minghao invited you downtown this time, various pop-up stores of luxury brands recently opened and he just secured a sale of a really expensive painting; so of course, what better way to spend that money than taking a shopping trip with his closest friend.

“This would look amazing on you.” He said while taking out a dress, it's a color that compliments your hair and skin wonderfully. Minghao always knew how to dress.

“Oh, I'm inclined to agree, but I'm not willing to look at the price tag for that one.” You joke, shrugging as you follow him around the store.

“Nonsense, I'm offering to pay.” He said, turning his nose up. “I'm getting this for you, I'll ask the salesperson for more sizes so you can try them on.” He said, turning to the salesperson doing just that.

The salesperson nods enthusiastically, bringing the dresses to the dressing rooms and ushering you in despite your protests. Minghao only smiles in amusement as the curtain hides your figure, he sits on the bench near the dressing rooms in silence, scrolling through Instagram on his phone.

He hears the curtains roll open, it only takes a moment of him looking at you in the dress to take his breath away. It fits you perfectly, hugging your body deliciously. Minghao almost drops his phone onto his lap, his grip loosening, star-struck by your beauty.

“How does it look?” You ask, awkwardly fiddling with the expensive fabric of the dress, feeling a little too expensive to be on your body.

Minghao wordlessly stands from the bench, looking a little dazed, he turns to the salesperson and tells them, “We're getting the dress.” As he walks toward the cashier almost in a trance.

You're a little taken aback by his reaction, but nonetheless you change back into your regular clothes. As soon as you walk out of the dressing room Minghao Pushes you back in with more dresses.

“Please try these on.” He says, not having the strength to look you in the eyes. You comply.

It took you hours of trying on dresses and accessories to the point that you almost bought the store out. Minghao couldn't get enough of the mini-fashion show you were putting on for him, and it's not like the salespeople are complaining either.

You walk out of the first store with multiple bags in hand, you thought that was enough shopping for the whole year maybe, but no, Minghao pulls you into another store, and another, and another, all leaving with bags (multiple) of clothes.

It got so bad to the point that Minghao had to leave your bags in his car so you could free up your hands to buy more stuff.

You stopped trying to fathom the amount of money Minghao was spending on you, yes, he did buy items for himself too, but he looked much more satisfied to provide for you rather than procuring items for himself.

The car ride back home was filled with way too many ‘are you sure's and ‘you really didn't have to's. But Minghao was insistent on you keeping all the items he got for you.

“I'm being serious, you're a gorgeous woman, you deserve to be spoiled like a queen.” he said, turning to you while waiting at a red light, “You need to visit my studio in the clothes I got you, you'll fit right in with my paintings.” He smiles.

Your face flushes at his compliments, a bright and happy smile stretching across your face. You couldn't remember the last time you were this happy with someone. To find joy in the company of another felt liberating, you felt like you deserved this.

Minghao drops you off at your place with your new clothes, helping you get them into your living room like a true gentleman.

“I'll see you next time, Y/n.” He said stopping at your doorstep, annd leaning down to press a kiss on the crown of your head, he took note of what your shampoo smelled like and left. Leaving you awestruck in your doorway as you watch his car drive off.

This studio has become so familiar to you, like a second home almost. Punching in the code was muscle memory at this point, the smell of drying paint and clay becoming a calming scent.

You smooth over the front of your dress, one that Minghao got you, as you enter his studio again. Shrugging off your heavier coat, the beginning of winter creeps closer as the trees lose the last of their leaves.

Minghao just got out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on his paint-stained shirt and apron. He looks at you, the dress, the way it fits on you. And he smiles widely.

“Hey there gorgeous, what are you doing all the way there? You should be over there with the rest of the art.” He says cheekily.

You giggle as you enter the space more, stopping in front of him taking his extended hand and following it, giving him a twirl.

He simply adores the way the fabric flows and shapes around your curves and contours, your skin practically glowing with life.

He fights the urge to kiss you, succeeding for now.

He guides you onto the couch, a turntable sitting next to his stone tea tray on the coffee table. ”Oh? This is new.” You said when you noticed it.

“Oh that? I got it for when you come over. I got a few records too, if you'd like to make yourself comfortable while I brew us some tea.” He said, untying his apron to hang on an easel, turning his back to you and he started preparing tea like before.

His movements and practiced, you'd guess this tea ceremony is second nature to him, considering he always talks about it. This scene is safe, familiar, it's comfortable.

He does this whole song and dance again, you've seen him do this over and over again but you can't seem to get sick of it. It's like you're giving yourself excuses just to keep seeing him.

But they don't feel like excuses, not at all, they're just more reasons why you feel deeply, and so quickly for Minghao.

Again, the both of you talk about everything and anything under the sun, him walking you through all his latest pieces, him plans for new ones creativity vibrating through ever cell in his body.

You imagine him talking so passionately about the future, maybe even a future with you.

Before you could realize what you were doing, you’re holding onto Minghao’s shoulders for support,

and you lean up to kiss him.

Minghao fights the urge to kiss back, he fails.

His hands come up to cup the back of your head tilting his head to deepen the kiss, pouring all his emotions into the simple, gesture of affection.

Your head was spinning, dizzy from his cologne and the wind getting knocked from your lungs as soon as your lips met his. It was electrifying, finally feeling the warmth of his body pressed so close, yet so far from yours.

Oh, you wanted him, so, so badly.

He pulls away first, heaving from the intensity of the kiss, eyes in a daze. Meeting your eyes again, he couldn’t help but lean in for another kiss.

This time he's really pressing into you seemingly drunk off of the feeling of his lips meeting yours. He's just a man at the end of the day, a weak, weak man in the face of paradise.

He came back to his senses once he felt the cool metal of your wedding ring on his neck. Jolting back, he pushed your shoulders back, creating a significant distance between the two of you.

“I, I think you should leave.” He said turning to hide in his studio bathroom to collect his thoughts.

You stood there puzzled, did he not feel the same way you did? But why did he kiss you, twice? Something isn't adding up.

But moreover, you can't ignore the painful sting this rejection gave you. You wanted him, did he not want you? What was the point of trying so hard to make you fall for him when he just decided to back down when he finally had you?

You gather your belongings and leave the studio, the door clicking to lock behind you. The ride back was suffocating, it felt like you left a part of yourself in that studio with Minghao. And you fear that this may be the last time you see him.

You haven’t spoken to Minghao in the weeks following the kiss, your nerves on fire every time you remember how his pillow lips felt so right on yours.

You're standing in front of the mural. The one where Hephestus caught Aphrodite, his wife, and Hephestus, her lover, having an affair and having sex on their marital bed.

It's funny, looking at this mural. You spent your last weeks wandering his gallery, searching for his shadow, but he always seems to evade you so easily. He's marked you like a bloodstain on a pristine white dress, lingering like fog on a cold autumn day.

Winter is still young, yet you feel cold. So, so cold.

As if your most desperate prayers were heard, Minghao practically materializes next to you.

“Hi. I'm sorry I wasn't able to speak to you for the past few weeks. I'm a coward, a fool to run from you.” He said, both of you looking at the mural and not at each other.

Silence follows, you couldn't look at him, you couldn't speak to him. “Y/n I-”

“This isn't the place to talk about this.” You said coldly.

Minghao flinches a bit, not used to how icy your voice was. It usually greets him so warmly, so lovingly.

“Let's go out to drink, there's a bar that's walking distance from here, if you'd like go go with me. I have too many things to say to you, too many thoughts left unsaid. You deserve to hear them, at least.” He said, remorseful.

You really couldn't find it in yourself to stay mad at him. So you agree to walk with him.

The walk to the bar is silent, unlike your previous walks. You're so far from him, you even refused to hold onto his arm like you usually do.

It's early winter yet Minghao is sweating bullets, he's almost vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass. His nerves are all over the place, he's acting so out of character, nothing like the calm, cool, collected Minghao you've come to know over the past few months.

He takes a deep breathe before you both enter the bar.

A few drinks in and you’re already tipsy, “You know- hic- my husband is being a dick to me.” You drunkenly slurred, “This novel I’ve been writing for over two years now is fucking me in the ass- I- I want to finish it so desperately but all he does is sucks the soul out of me. He’s a giant pain in the ass-!”

Minghao snorts at this, loudly talking over the music of the bar, “Your husband is a fucking dick! Your work is amazing. If I were him, I would do anything to help you get rid of that writer’s block, you know, inspire you.” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’d do that?” You ask, clinging onto his arm, “Thank youuuu hao bear~ you’re the best-!” You giggle into his arm, your weight pressing against his side. You’ve only known him for three months at this point, but his ideas and influence on your work improved your writing and motivation drastically.

“Hao bear? That’s new, you’ve only known me for- what? 3 months? You’re already calling me nicknames!” He holds the back of your head gently, pressing his forehead onto yours, “I should give you a nickname too… Starlight, how does that sound?” At this point, you tune out every other sound other than the sound of his voice and the pounding of your heart.

This man had you in a chokehold the moment you met him, you were fucking doomed from the start.

“Starlight? Yeah, I like it more than a little bit.” You say softly, your words almost getting lost in the noise of the bar.

“Let’s move to somewhere quieter, yeah? Tell me more about your work. We can head to my place to settle down for a bit.” There it is, the same dark, barely there smirk that plagues your stomach with butterflies.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Arriving at Minghao’s place, you take a quick look around his apartment. Everywhere you look is a pop of color, bold splotches of vibrant hues making the place look like it was pulled straight out of the 80s, “Hao, your place is amazing, the furniture brings me so much joy~” You giggle a bit, sitting down at the plush red velvet couch shaped like a seashell.

“Thanks! Most of the furniture is thrifted from retro thrift stores, I like this style more. It brings so much personality to the space.” He passionately talks about them, “Do you want anything to drink? I have water, juice, and beer here.” He says, rummaging through his fridge.

“Oh, just water, please.” You say you have a feeling that you need to at least sober up for whatever the night brings.

He takes two glasses of water and places them down on the coffee table. It’s the only piece in the entire house that is a neutral color, a fine hardwood. You couldn’t tell what it was at a glance, not that it was important anyway.

“So, let’s talk about this book that you’ve been struggling to write now. Could you tell me what it’s about?” He asks, taking a swig of his water, you stare at his side profile while he does, sharp yet delicate features, his Adam’s apple bobbing from his drink.

Bro’s so majestic.

“Well, it’s about an artist who’s losing passion for his work, told from the perspective of his lover. It’s a spicy romance, with, in my opinion, a correct amount of sex scenes-”

“Give me a percentage of how much of it is smut.” Minghao interrupts you,

“Like… 75 percent?” He snorts at this, “Anyway, I’ve been stuck on the last spicy scene of the book, the climax, pun not intended,” You take a swig of your water, “I mean, it’s not like I don’t have experience writing that sort of thing, or lack experience in sex either, but my sex life’s been such a drag with my husband being gone for long periods and-”

Minghao interrupts you again, “And he doesn’t fuck you right, does he?”

The forwardness of his words made you freeze, you contemplated whether to reject him here, to tell him it wasn’t appropriate to talk about this with you, especially about your husband. You know how Minghao looks at you. It wasn’t a secret to anyone that he wanted you, but he never acted in any inappropriate way. He never makes you uncomfortable.

This was no exception. The swirling in your stomach wasn’t because of unease, no, this was because of arousal.

“No, no he doesn’t.”

He leans in, kissing you. This time he's not rushing, no more pushing and pulling, no more things left unsaid. He wants you, he'll have you. That was a promise.

He lifts you from the couch, lips never parting as he carries you to his bedroom, peeling each other's clothes, bumping into walls and furniture. But you couldn't care less, you were lost in each other's embrace and you can't think of another place you'd rather be.

Half-naked on Minghao’s bed, who, need you be reminded, was not your husband.

His hands roamed your sides, the heat from his palms warming your skin, causing it to flush, his soft, plump lips pressing feather-light kisses to your neck. You could feel his breath behind your ear, his hair tickling your cheek.

“How would your husband feel if he knew what you were doing with me right now?” He asks, clearly getting off on the fact that you were in his bed, getting ready to fuck him, a man who wasn’t your husband.

“I hope he’d be disappointed, but at this point, I think he forgot about me.” You say with a chuckle at the end, trying not to ruin the mood.

Minghao gently pulls away from you from that, “What?” he asks quietly, the word almost getting drowned out by the hum of the air conditioning, “Sorry, I know this was supposed to be a taboo, forbidden relationship thing but… I’m angry at him.” He says, avoiding your eyes.

“I know I’ve only known you for a few months, but I never felt this way before. It fucking kills me to think that a woman like you would be forgotten, for what exactly? Work?” He said anger gradually filling his voice. His hand reaches for your face when your eyes meet, thumbs pressing down on your cheekbone. The controlled and purposeful movement reminds you just how pliable you are under his touch. He sculpted you into what he wanted you to be; beautiful, strong, unashamed.

You gently cup his face, still hovering above you, “Kiss me, Minghao.”

And he did.

His lips met yours in a searing embrace, just the force of his passion against yours was dizzying, fiery desire clashing to make fireworks behind the eyelids that fluttered close. You never felt this type of longing from your husband, never felt his devotion being kissed through your lips like Minghao’s tongue was exploring it.

At that moment, you knew you were gone.

Minghao pulled away from you, hazy eyes meeting yours as the string of saliva that connected your mouths broke. At that moment, Minghao was stuck in a trance, his lips coming to meet yours over and over like he couldn’t stop tasting your lips even if he tried. A sweet ambrosia, too saccharine to stop. He’s become addicted to your lips molding onto his like sickly sweet honey sticking to his lips.

Out of breath, he grabs hold of your waist, rolling over to get you on top of him. He reaches behind you, unclasping the hooks of your bra and letting your breasts fall free from it. He cups both of them while you sit up, grinding on his hardening cock through his boxers, he groans at this, reflexively squeezing your boobs.

Placing both of your hands on his pecs, you also give them a gentle squeeze. Minghao notices this and his gaze darkens, passing his thumbs over your hardening nipples. Your pussy clenches onto nothing at this, a soft gasp leaves you as you started to grind harder against Minghao.

His nails started to dig into your hips, his own desperately grinding up against you for more friction. Soft moans leave him as he throws his head back against the pillows, eyes fluttering close just so he could focus on the sensations of your clothed cunt grinding against his cock through his boxers.

“God, get off of me before I cum in my underwear like a teenager.” He says with a playful groan, lifting your hips off from his crotch.

“Right, you still need to cum inside of me.” You say back playfully, his eyes darkened at this.

“Fuck, you make me want to keep you forever,” taking one of your hands and placing a kiss on your palm.

He lifts his hips only enough to get his boxers off, shimmying them off to somewhere on the floor near his bed. You also take this time to take your underwear off, secretly hiding it under his pillow when you lean down to kiss him again.

When you both pulled away, another string of saliva connected you two. You took two fingers to swipe at the liquid, bringing it down to rub your clit while you lowered yourself down to grind on his bare cock now.

Minghao hisses, “Fuck, I can feel how wet and warm you are, sweet christ.” he breathes out a shaky breath as you grind your bare wetness on his cock, lubricating the shaft for later. You moan at the contact, body slightly shaking from the friction of the tip of his cock hitting your clit occasionally.

“God, Minghao, fuck I need you inside me.” You desperately whine out. You lifted your hips up to finally hold his hard cock to align it with your pussy, slowly sinking on the thick girth. You throw your head back at the satisfying stretch his dick was making you feel.

“Fuck, you feel so good, so tight and warm,” He moans, he’s not shy about letting you know how good it feels with how vocal he’s being, he takes your right hand and holds it tightly, pressing it against his chest. You could feel his racing heartbeat under his skin, “Let me keep you forever, please, don’t make me beg, run away with me.”

You openly gape at him from this, You’d be a fool to accept this, especially since you’ve only known him for a fraction of the time you knew your husband, but god dammit.

“Take me with you, anywhere you want to go. I’m yours, please take me.” You say desperately. You’ve never been wanted this badly before, and god, you wanted more, for the rest of time.

Minghao abruptly thrusts up into you from this, tightly clenching your hand in his, still pressing on top of his racing heart under the skin. You cry out in pleasure, somehow the sensation of his heart under your palm elevates your pleasure, making you go dizzy at the thought that you’re doing this to him, and only you.

You come close to your climax embarrassingly quick, the sensation of his cock rubbing your velvet walls so perfectly made your head spin. Your ears are ringing so loudly that it almost drowns out your sounds of pleasure, and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

Minghao isn’t far from you either, the same dizzying effect taking hold of his mind too. He’s so close to finishing that he could almost taste it, his moans and whines of your name leaving his lips like a mantra, a prayer, even.

“Minghao I’m gonna cum-!” you say frantically, pressing your forehead onto his as he meets your lips with his for the nth time. You swallow the moans he spills into your mouth as you both climax at the same time. His heart still beating frantically under your palm.

“Did you mean that?” You ask breathlessly, “When you said you wanted me forever, did you mean it?” you couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Exactly, I meant it word for word. Let me replace the ring on your finger with mine.” He smiles at you.

In the end, he did replace the ring on your finger with his, much more extravagant, and elaborate. Your husband wasn’t surprised at your sudden request for a divorce, since your marriage was already failing before you met Minghao.

Still, time was the ultimate truthteller.

Your husband found out about your High Infidelity around the middle of your divorce proceedings, and in a rage, he threw you and all your belongings out onto the driveway. In the middle of winter rain.

The rain soaked into your skin, cold and icy piercing you painfully. All your personal belongings were strewn all around you, and your soon-to-be ex-husband was angrily slamming the door shut, but you couldn't help but feel relieved.

After all, you were finally free.

You finished your book, it received critical acclaim and it was a New York Times Best-Seller.

And you got to marry Minghao, the love of your life. Who you were happily married to until the both of you grew old.

FIN.

197 notes · View notes