#but done together!!! collaborations are the best

[ginsays]

me & @bonesblubs & @meru90 did a switcheroo meme with fengqing!! 🏹⚔️ it was super fun, thank you both for doing it with me!! 🧡

[captainfantasticalright]

In 1985, one of the only persons interested in an interview with a “new” writer called Terry Pratchett, after his publication of the Colour of Magic, was one Neil Gaiman. Neil Gaiman was writing for Space Voyager at the time. "The Colour of Pratchett" was the name given here:

It ran exactly one page inside the June/July issue of that year. The interview took place in a Chinese restaurant in London.

Here is Neil many years later holding that issue. You can see it here if you want. Warning: extremely emotional video.

Neil arrived wearing a grey homburg hat. “Sort of like the ones Humphrey Bogart wears in movies” he later wrote. (Before saying that in fact he did not look like him, but like someone wearing a grown-up’s hat). Terry Pratchett, photo courtesy of one @neil-gaiman, was in a Lenin-style leather cap and a harlequin-patterned pullover. At this point, Terry was already a hat person, although not that hat.

Terry offered Neil this : "An interview needn't last more than 15 minutes. A good quote for the beginning, a good quote for the end, and the rest you make up back at the office"*. (Terry Pratchett had worked many years in journalism by this point ).

But the meeting went terribly well. The two of them realized they had "the same sort of brains". So well indeed, that in 1985, Neil had shown Terry a file containing 5282 words, exploring a scenario in which Richmal Crompton's William Brown had somehow become the Antichrist. Was a collaboration in the cards as of that moment? Not really. But Terry found in Neil someone to whom he could send disks of work in progress and to whom he could pick up the phone sometimes when he hit a brick in the road of his writing.

Terry loved it and the concept stayed in his mind. A couple of years later, he rang Neil to ask him if he had done any more work on it. Neil had been busy with The Sandman, he had not really given it another thought. Terry said, "Well I know what happens next, so either you sell me the idea or we can write it together". **

And as you know, unless you’ve been living in Alpha Centauri, the rest is history. That was the beginning of what would become William the Antichrist and later would get the name Good Omens:The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. (Title provided by Neil Gaiman and subtitle by Terry Pratchett).

From the introduction to William the Antichrist: “In the summer of 1987 several odd ideas came together: (..)I found myself imagining a book called William the Antichrist, in which a hapless demon was going to be responsible for swapping the wrong baby over, and the son of the US Ambassador would be completely undemonic, while William Brown would grow up to be the Antichrist, and the demon would need to stop him ending the world. The unfortunate demon, whom I called Crawleigh, because Crawley was a nearby town with an unfortunate name, would have to sort it all out as best he could.

It felt like a story with legs.

Terry took the 5,000 words, and rewrote them, calling me to tell me what he was doing and what he was planning to do. The biggest thing he was going to do, he told me, was split the hapless demon into two characters – a would-be-cool demon in dark glasses (which was, I think, Terry’s way of making fun of me, a never-actually- cool journalist in dark glasses) who had renamed himself Crowley, and a rare-book dealer and angel called Aziraphale, who would embody all the English awkwardness that either of us could conceive.”

William the Antichrist being a direct inspiration of the 1976 film The Omen. If the baby swap had just been a little bit messier and the kid had gone off somewhere else he would have grown up as somebody else. “And then there was a beat and I thought, I should write it, it will be called William the Antichrist” says Neil. ***

“The first draft of Good Omens was a William-book. It was absolutely in every way it could be a William book. It had Violet Elizabeth Bott, it had William and the Outlaws, it had Mr. Brown”.

Over time they realized that they would have more creative freedom if they in their own words filed off the serial numbers. William and the Outlaws becoming Adam and the Them.

But the spirit of Just William was never far away.

The joy for Neil was to construct “perfectly William sentences”. The one when Anathema tells Adam that she has lost the Book, and he tells her that he has written a book about a pirate who became a famous detective and it is 8 pages long… that’s “a William sentence”.

Good Omens was also inspired by a particularly antisemitic moment in The Jew of Malta and John le Carre's spy novels. (Neil’s ask)

“When we finished the book we estimated that the words were 60% Terry’s and 40% mine, and the plot, such as it was, was entirely ours.”

(Here are some slides of mine where I go into some other details concerning the origins of Good Omens).

*Quote: from Terry Pratchett A Life With Footnotes by Rob Wilkins, but said by Terry of course.

** All the quotes, facts listed here : see above.

***all other quotes by Neil Gaiman from various interviews and asks I’ll link.

[vivalabunbun]

Into the Sky of Artificial Stars

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

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

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

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

Are you just your conscience? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your prediction was correct. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That a singularity would signal the end of humanity. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Didn’t you have a meeting scheduled for today? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Congratulations.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yep, they’re in one of these bags.” 

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

“Please come help with the groceries.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just take those to the kitchen.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What made man? Intellect? Innovation? Language? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm… no, not right now.”

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

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

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

“I’ll leave you be then.” 

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

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

He hypothesizes there to be some leftovers spinning around. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Amurta?” Your father scoffed a bit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have thought about it.” You began.

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

“I was thinking about Rtawahist,” you confessed. 

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

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

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

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

A deep sigh sealed your fate. 

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

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

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

“There are jobs for Astronomy.” You reasoned. 

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

“Like-” 

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

“Go on.” He challenged. 

“...” 

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

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

“Little one…” Your mother began. 

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

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

You hummed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was the dilemma imposed upon you. 

–----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you uncomfortable anywhere?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, I’ll be fine.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Laws mandating the privacy of employees and civilians alike.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s morning,” he answers. 

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

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

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

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

“Coffee?” He interjects. 

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

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

“Understood.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?-” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you order this?”

“Yes.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Understood.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The light shows that it’s online.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How unfortunate. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want to analyze a few more datasets.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, Alhaitham.”

“Goodnight.” He mirrors. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright.” 

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

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

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

You had your reasons. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you like a refill of your prescription?”

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

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

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

“Of course.” You mimic her actions. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine, just busy.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She can help you through-” he continues. 

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

“This isn’t healthy.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s my research,” you reaffirm. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As of now, no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

–----

That was your last memory of the airport.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You should’ve been on that plane. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So why does it burn?

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

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

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

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

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

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

The android is faced with a new dilemma. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s past 5 p.m.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

So what is this weight burdening his chest? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A strange object?” You inquire again. 

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

“Huh…” 

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

“Well, where is this object?” 

“Come with me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not,” he replies. 

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

“What do you mean, Alhaitham-”

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

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

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

“Did… did you fix it?”

He hums in response. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alhaitham.”

“Yes?”

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

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

“It’s just that I’m hungry.” 

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

“No,” you interrupt. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He could only bend to your whims. 

“I love you.”

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

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

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

You succeeded. 

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

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

A gentle, yet longing connection of two lips. 

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

“Was that a kiss?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So why is this shyness making its reappearance now?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sliding his hands back down the curves of your body, he hooks his fingers over the rim of your shorts and panties pulling them down. Glass eyes zeroing in on the glistening thread that linked your panties and slit. Proof of arousal, your body awakening its cardinal impulses.

Could the signals transmitted through his system be classified in the same way?

He wants to investigate further. Moving his face lower to inspect the saturated folds that beckoned him. 

Only to be denied by the gates of your knees pressing together, as your body curls up in fortification. Denying him the privilege of satiating his curiosity is like denying a man water in an ocean of sand. Evaluating how your eyes were squeezed together in shame, he had foresaw this.

“Mmm, there seems to be an incongruity, do you want me to stop?” Large hands grasping at your plush thighs, but making no move to part them. 

Your head responds with a shake, but your knees still locked together. Your attention centering on him bashfully. 

“Then guide me, tell me how to please you,” he proposes hands soothing your tense legs.

Utilizing the skill he had accessed a few moments ago once more, gracing your skin with his lips awaiting your response. The tension in your legs loosens with each kiss, and gradually a fissure forms in the barrier of your defense, knees parting.

However, he doesn’t cross the threshold, no, he restrained himself from indulging too soon. Half-ladden eyes peering up to connect with yours. 

“Well, tell me. What do you want me to do?” 

A pout makes its appearance on your face, but what could you do? It is your responsibility to shepherd him since the beginning, to have him step over the line dividing an android and man. Best to take on your duty, no?

Parting your legs further, cheeks ablaze and eyes adverted as you allow his teal gaze to absorb the uninterrupted view of your dripping arousal. Your hands aiding as they thwart the urge of your bashful legs’s urge to preserve your dignity. 

“Please use your mouth and hands,” you prompt, face pressing deeper into one side of a pillow under his stare.

Alhaitham encroaches closer to your glistening folds, his large hands supporting each one of your thighs. Approaching the details of your honeypot in front of him, concentrating on the little nub which lures him closer. He presses a light peck against the nub as your body flinches. 

“Like this?” 

Plush lips pressed tightly, you respond with timid shakes. 

Returning back, his lips delving deeper this time, an audible pop when he pulls away from your taunted clit. Feeling the muscles tighten in your legs. 

“Like that?” Mirth leaked through his baritone words. 

Your head shakes with more vigor. 

“Then how about this?” This time his tongue takes action, dipping into the center of your honeypot before flicking up at your nub. 

You return a restrained moan, teal eyes picking up on the twitch of your folds. It seems that he’s uncovered the proper procedures. Peering up from between your legs at the harsh rises of your chest by rush breaths as your eyes remained sealed behind lashes, he decided to impart some mercy. Taking the initiative to shoulder a bit of your duty. 

Retracing his steps, his tongue repeating its previous motions of lapping up the nectar that slipped out from your folds. Always ending each strip up your slit with a flick to your sensitive nub.

Your hands abandon their post in favor of snaring themselves in his ashen trestles as your back begins to arch off the sheets. Thighs beginning to enclose around his head, yet it didn’t deter the vigor in his motions one bit. 

If anything, it spurred them on. The added pressure of your legs pulling him against your weeping folds assisted him in his quest. Testing which pattern made your body quiver, calculating the pace of his tongue's flicks made your hips buck up.

Alhaitham takes notice of how your greedy hole seems to be clenching down every time a tongue dipped in, you did request for his mouth and fingers after all. 

A finger begins to prod at your entrance, coating itself in the overflowing slick as it traces the puckering entry. Your whines increase in volume as your greed escalates, legs locking around him. Thus, he yields to your neediness, filling your lonely walls with the company of his finger.

Thrusting it in time with his licks as he rubs against the slick muscles. Your back arched off the bed, your fingers grounding themselves in the tangles of his hair as if trying to hold on to a shred of reason. 

His interest has been greatly piqued, he wanted to see what it would look like. He wants to see what your expression looks like when you fall into the depths of debauchery. You’d permit him such privileges right? After all, curiosity is what defines the human spirit. 

A second finger soon joins in, its thickness stretching and prepping your walls, cultivating your arousal into a rapacious hunger.

Articulate tongue now focused on abusing your clit in the swipes of sweet torture, lips encasing around it to provide some suction. Fingers honing in on relocating the weakness deep within you which made your voice peak and tremble.  

He could hear the harshness of your panting breath between each escalating moan, how your walls squeezed and sucked his fingers deeper. Teal gaze never once ceased their evaluation of your face. Making sure to appraise each lewd detail of your impending ecstasy. 

It’s impossible to stand at the apex of euphoria forever, no, for gravity will always pull you back down. A pivotal moment in time as the forces tugged down at you as you fell, losing your shame and sanity along the way.

A fall from grace which etches itself in the roll of your eye and vulgar expression, caused by the tempest of pleasure seeps into every fiber of your being as you plummeted down into the ocean of rapture. 

The fingers intertwined in his hair pulling his face flushed against your pulsing cunt. Even with your mind fractured by orgasmic bliss your body still reacts to each lap of his tongue as he manages the slick aftermath. Fingers stroking your sweet spot through each contraction of your walls. 

“Nng!” A feeble push against his ashen locks, your abused clit crying for a moment of reprieve. 

Oh? It seems your consciousness returned faster than he expected. With a resounding pop, he grants your overstimulated nerves a moment to recover. Allowing the traces of your nectar to dribble down his chin. Taking this moment to verify the effectiveness of his scheme.

The air dense with the fragrance of lust, lips red from the abuse of your teeth, mouth agape as your lungs gasp tongue almost lulling out. 

An absolutely debauched face, a sight which brought the corners of his lips to curl. 

Counting the beads of sweat that lingered on your skin, his rationale urged him to swipe them off to prevent a chill from plaguing you. Withdrawing away from your form he plans his destination to the bath to retrieve a towel, only for a smaller hand to snag him in its hold. 

Alhaitham turns back to face you, awaiting your next prompt. However, your bitten lips couldn’t muster up the courage to utter the plea it so desperately wanted. Thus, your eyes connect with his, praying that a slow blink could convey the invocation your voice couldn’t. 

Standing there as a few breaths pass, the teal glow of his irises indicates his deduction of what your eyes conveyed. Ah yes, the passionate entanglement experience just a moment before could be classified as ‘foreplay’. The appetizer to the main event.

So your appetite has yet to be satiated, evident from how your thighs pressed against each other in an attempt to quell the ache. How could he leave a task undone? 

“Show me what you desire,” he instructs. 

Hesitantly, your hands encroach closer to the rim of his slacks. Your every action observed by him. Resting your palms against the outline of a zipper, you glance up to seek confirmation, he grants it.

You undo the button at the top before pulling the zipper down. Allowing for you to shimmy his briefs and slacks down to the floor. Revealing to the world, with the moon as your witness, every intricate detail placed into his engineered body. 

It felt so foreign in your hands. Encircling your fingers around his girth, tracing over the bumps of each vein. Amid your admiration, his body overtook yours. Pinning you back against the damp sheets. It seems you were very interested in this feature of his, perhaps it was the cure for the yearning between your writhing legs. 

Your legs splayed to either side of his hips, a clear path to your greed. His hand spreads your collected slick along his length. Its bulbous tip presses against your quivering entrance. Meeting your half-lidden eyes, he awaits your permission. Thus, you captured his lips into another kiss, just as the tip breaches the threshold of your entrance.

Finally giving your aching walls the delicious stretch it craved. A moan resonates between connected lips, your eyes beginning to roll back as he sinks deeper and deeper, obscene squelches following each inch. 

Thick tip pressed up against the deepest parts of you as he bottoms out, your hands finding refuge along his back. Breaking the lock of your lips, Alhaitham lifts cants his head up to take in the scene under him.

Hovering over your panting form, his body caging you against the wrinkled fabric, feeling your unseemly breaths against his skin. A teal glow reflected in the lust-hazed pools of your eyes.

He understands now, why so many poets lost their minds, trying their whole lives to find the words to chronicle the sight laid out before him along messy sheets. 

Under his tense study, your fingers lightly claw at the smooth expanse of his back. A soundless prayer to quell the famine, your gummy walls coaxing around his cock with its embrace. 

“Haitham,” you mewl. 

Not even the greatest saint could deny your request, he wagers they’d gladly walk through the gates of damnation just for a morsel of you. 

Rolling his hips back, he drags his girth along the walls of your greed ensuring that they feel the outline of every vein. Feeling the cool air brush against the slick dripping off his length, only the bulbous tip remained in the clutches of your cunt.

A muffled whine of protest from you interrupted as he sunk back in, accompanied by a filthy squelch. 

Robust hands encompass the edges of your waist, he repeats the roll of his hips. Feeling the tightening clutches of your core, croons falling off your tongue with each toing and froing.

What symphonies could he draw from those agape lips of yours?

He wants to witness the sinful hymns of your voice as you are overtaken by the throes of pleasure. Perhaps he should conduct an experiment of his own. Through the raunchy air, a clap pierces the leaden veil, your plush hips pressed flush against his anchored ones, a thrust that seared your nerves and curled your toes. 

“Ah!” Moan ripped from your throat. 

Yes, that’s the amplitude he wants to discern with his ears.

Continue to sing in that octave. It’s as if pulled by the reins of sin, he finds himself experiencing hunger for the first time, fixating on tearing more of those chants from you. He drew back his hips then forced them back in deeper. A wail followed each rake of his cock, walls accenting each thrust with fluttering clenches. Mewls and whines resonated through the room as his firm grip didn’t slacken with each rock of the bed. 

Pace escalating and remorseless, skin clashing against skin, the heat of your writhing body scorching him. But he won’t relent, not until he’s taken what he wanted. Driving you deeper into the creaking mattress, thrusting and filling each crevice of your core. Your soft breast pinned against his solid frame. 

Your face pressed into the crook of his neck, legs imprisoned within the confines of his bruising grasp, toes painfully arched in an attempt to distribute the burn of the maddening euphoria firing through each nerve. The moans of his name like a prayer of salvation, a chant for every punishing strike against your deepest weakness. Your fingers now clawing against his durable back for a foothold for your fleeing sanity. You feared that this time, it might not return to you. 

Oddly, a voice from the rearmost corner of your mind whispered for you to relinquish it. Trade in rationale, sensibility, and morals for absolute ecstasy. Your teeth had already sunk into the apple, its juices dribbling down the corners of your mouth. Why not swallow it down? Get drunk off the wet claps of skin, the grind of his muscular torso against your stimulated clit, the slams of his girthy cock and thick tip. Why deny yourself from the euphoria robbed from you for so long?

So you concede to its beckoning, swallowing down the last wisp of sanity until it drowned in the maddening abuse of your sweet spot from his pistoning hips. Granting you entry to true pleasure as the knot in your core unravels. Backing arching off the mattress, mending the fibers of your being impossibly close to his. Head thrown back against a ruffled pillow as a long shameless wail erupts from your trembling lips. Lost in the tides of rapture. 

Alhaitham’s body stills as his ears digest the beautiful aria of your undoing. Feeling your slick and warm walls contract all around his cock. Milking him for every last speck of gratification he could offer you. 

A moment couldn’t be classified as a simple impulse for procreation. No, he believed it went beyond the lust hanging in the air. An indescribable urge to mend your bodies as close as possible, to becoming wholly one with one another. The thump of your heartbeat against the whir of a motor as they merge into a mantra. 

Is this why humans crave physical intimacy? 

Watching your loose face tremor and your teary eyes roll back. A painting no muse besides you could ever inspire. Leaning down, his lips brush away the glistening trails down your supple cheeks. Coaxing you through the throes of your orgasmic shudders. Until the light of consciousness returns to your half-lidden eyes. 

The limitations of the human body expose themselves in the limpness of your limbs, unable muscles unable to budge besides the twitching aftershocks of bliss. Unable to fight against the weight of your eyelids for the first time in a while. You sink into the lull of slumber. 

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

Somewhere amid the driftless darkness a sensation brushes against your skin. Causing your lashes to pry open just ever so slightly, blurry shapes merging gradually to form the outline of a man. One who’s tendering wiping a soft towel over the sweat drops littering your skin. The soft glow of his emerald gem illuminated the devotion of his crafted face. You wonder where he learned about such practices after the rite of sex. Did he pull it from the Akasha? The internet? Or maybe from a book hidden along the shelves of a private library. 

You couldn’t stifle the giggle roused from your musing. Alerting him as his hands halt. 

“Did I wake you?” Baritone voice hushed. 

Face still pressed into a pillow you shake your head, hair messy and a smile spreading across your soft features. 

“Just musing to myself where you learned such things,” you giggle. 

“This is typical behavior of lovers from my understanding.” Teal gaze observed the widening of your eyes which reflected him. 

Perhaps he made too great of an assumption. Back in the margins of a kitchen, it was only his words. It’s best to get clarification now. 

“Are we lovers?” He peers into your irises. 

The glow of the gem embedded in his chest spreads its gentle radiance over two figures through the unbuttoned window of his wrinkled button-down. Carving the shape of you and him from the shadows of the silent room. Illuminating how your wide eyes crinkle up with adoration. Fighting against the fatigue of your limbs, you lean up to press your lips against the brilliance of his gem. After the amorous kiss ended, you proceeded to lean your forehead against his. 

“You’re my lover, Alhaitham.” Your whisper ghosts over his face. 

“Understood.” His foreheads pressing against yours as he accepts his new sentience. 

The shape of your delicate fingers fitting into the space between his, intertwining as the moonlight reflects off gold and emerald. 

The sky shrouds itself in its evening gown of deep navy and luminous glimmers, all the while a bashful moon covers herself away. Perhaps she hid herself away after she witnessed a sinful scene through a gap in the curtains. A private moment heavy with passion in the air like tender caresses. 

“W-wait!” Stammering words just barely leaving your lips before another moan. 

Alhaitham pulls his tongue away as he tilts his face to peer up from between your thighs, a trail of slickness connecting his lips and your pussy. The haze of your breathless expression reflected in teal irises. 

“I-it’s t-too ah!-” A moan interrupts your protests as your head jolts back, his thumb continuing to circle your swollen clit. 

“Much? I know you can take more,” he states before returning his lips to your dripping folds, lapping up each trickle. 

He’s analyzed your body, its curves and cervices, each clench of your slick walls, and the pattern of your gasps. Skilled fingers learning the exact rhythm which made your legs tense and toes curl. Diligent tongue knowing where to tease to run shivers up your spine. 

“B-but I’ve already c-came!” Your fingers tangle themselves into his tousled locks, a feeble attempt at pushing back the maddening flicks of his tongue and cruel strokes of his thumb that shot up your fried nerves. Report long forgotten under the haze of lust and lewd slurps imbuing the room. 

And you can come again. Alhaitham has long picked up on the discrepancy between the words which fell from the same lips as those lewd sounds. Lips who couldn’t be as honest as your heaving and trembling body. Whining and writhing in his firm hold that it’s too much, yet your fingers entangle themselves deep in silver tresses pulling his impatient tongue deeper between your folds. 

From the shivers racking through your trembling thighs, he anticipates another orgasm. However, the unholy cries have ceased. Intent eyes glancing up to uncover the causal factor, those naughty plush lips of yours pressing themselves shut. Crueling sealing away those ethereal harmonies from him. 

Alas, just a small inconvenience doesn’t deter him. If those lips were the only barrier barring him from the privilege of hearing his deserved moans, then he’d simply make them crumble. Replacing his thumb with his lips, Alhaitham suckles on the swollen nub as your body jerks up.

Grip imprinting his fingers into your skin as they stop your pitiful attempts at locking out from heaven. The heaving of your chest jostling around your perked breast as they meet the cool night air. 

His tongue teases and rolls your overstimulated clit around as his lips imprison it, a sweet torture. Your thrashes unable to prevent your head from going under the depths of pleasure. Thighs compressing around his face as they grow taut, hips bucking themselves against his relentless mouth, back lifting off the mattress as your final defenses crumble along with your sanity. 

 Limpness seeps into your now heavy limbs as your body returns to the mattress, but your eyes haven’t quite returned from seeing the back of your head. Still in the throes of cloud nine as his diligent tongue collects all your leaking nectar. The aftershocks of your orgasm force gasps and whimpers from your quivering lips. 

To comfort your abused clit he places a tender kiss against it, a flinch in your hip resulting from the gesture. Alhaitham pulls away, eyes scanning the repercussions of his operation. Your chest steadily rises and falls as panting lungs find air again.

The rush of dopamine, endorphins, and oxytocin gradually disappears behind your drooping eyelids. Lashes slowly fluttering closed. 

Glancing at the numbers displayed on a nearby clock, Alhaitham deems tonight a success as well. While the primary purpose of intercourse might be for reproduction, sex has additional benefits. One of them being an orgasm’s ability to decrease stress, resulting in the production of more melatonin. The chemical that’s making you burrow further in your pillow. A tactic he’s learned to exploit these past months. Well, he’s your lover now, it’s within his authorization to do such. 

Carefully he slides your panties back up your legs, securing them on your hips as he trails a few touches along your soft skin. Following it up by pulling the covers over your frame, smoothing out a few wrinkles as your chest steadily moves up and down. 

Just as he steps one foot away from the bed, a warmth encircles his wrist. 

“Aren’t you coming to bed too?” 

An artificial body needs no downtime under soft covers. Plush pillows and sheets serve no purpose to him. Yet, it’s a simple request. How could he reject it when it came from your pouting lips? 

“In a moment, I need to return to my port first.” 

The throes of slumber’s hold creeping upon you as your lashes fight to flutter open. With a soft hum, you release your hold.

His battery percentage was fine, but it was just for system maintenance. It’s strange how unfamiliar a room can feel after spending his nights by your side. Staring at the glass surface of his charging port, he wonders, in the future will there be a way for him to not leave your side even for a moment? 

His dilemma remains. He’s got all the characteristics of a human. He’s developed a consciousness, he’s developed empathy, he’s developed love. Is his engineer body the only thing which stood in his way of obtaining humanity?

Is it possible for him to grasp onto humanity with his own mechanical fingers? A soft thud returns him to reality. Observant eyes caught the book that his foot had knocked into. Its worn cover has been lying abandoned on the floor ever since he took it from a dusty room. 

Ah, it seems like he’s forgotten a task. Realistically, it won’t make a difference whether the book settles on a shelf tonight or in the morning. However, he never got a chance to read the journal’s contents. Curiosity being his rationale for performing a chore so late at night. 

Flipping through the aged parchment, his eyes scan through each neatly written paragraph. Nothing more than a simple collection of ramblings and theoretical reflections typical of a journal.

Yet, something was poking the back of his consciousness, like the warning rattle of a locked door. Beseeching that it remains sealed. His eyes move to the next sentence regardless.

To ignore the pleas of safety to venture closer to the radiance of a star. Isn’t that what it means to be human? Is this what he must do to become one?

To achieve this impossible task, it sounds like you'll need to fool your own heart first. Although it may feel like a trick, self-encouragement may be the most important tool we have.

Alhaitham scans the paragraph again as he contemplates the message neatly written. Something unpleasant roused in his chest, as if those written words had encroached too close to his motor. The urge to frown tugs on his lips.

Not wanting to end the night with a bitter taste just at the edge of his tongue, he flips to another page. Covering that vexatious sentence behind a fresh sheet of aged parchment. 

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

It’s quite straightforward advice, humans and androids alike would understand. Yet that strange inkling remained, continuing to brew somewhere from within. A phenomenon he couldn’t pinpoint. Thus, he turns the page yet again. 

Every person should have something that they believe in and hold on to from beginning to end. Otherwise, it's easy to succumb to the vicissitudes of life and find yourself being led astray.

He recognizes those words, they’re words he’s recited before you one pivotal sometime ago. Why were they scrawled in some forgotten journal? It seems that he’s identified the name of this phenomenon brewing within him: deja vu. 

Yet, his question only remains half-answered. Why were his words here? Who penned them down? The rapid flicks of paper resound off the blank walls as he scrutinizes each sentence, each paragraph, each syntax until he reaches the back cover of the aged journal. Question still remaining half answered.

Who was the author of his words? 

His finger runs into a lump along the surface of the back cover, examining it closer, something was folded away just behind a parchment pocket. Soon a loose scrap of paper was felt along his fingertips, a folded-up post-it note of an emerald hue. Unraveling it just slightly, his eyes move along the familiar handwriting. 

To the person who’s always meddling through my notes, did my written thoughts entertain you? Dear w-

The emerald scrap crumples in his hold. Deformed paper returns to its place before he snaps the covers closed. There’s no purpose in analyzing its contents, after all, they’re already programmed into him.

It was just now in this moment that Alhaitham had solved the dilemma he was assigned since the moment he awoke in that lab. He’s not a human, he’ll never be a human, he’s an abomination. 

In the next moment, he found himself looming over the origin of his dilemma. Artificial teal glow honing in upon the steady breaths from the genesis of abomination. Standing over you as you were cradled in the comfort of slumber and soft sheets. 

A pair of taut hands make their way to encircle your frangible neck. It wouldn’t take much, just a mere second to terminate the great sinner who defied mortality, the one who violated the terms of finality and ordinance of the gods.

So this is what you choose to do with the capacity of science and progress in your hands. 

Was he just a toy for you? Something to fill the lull of this house for you? Just an experiment for you, but everything to him. 

His fingers press into your warm skin, breaths uninterrupted as you remain within the blessing of a dream. Oblivious to the nightmare you’ve created. Or perhaps you were always aware, but choose to reflect back to him the manufactured image of him in those guiltless irises of yours.

Oh, what should he do with the monster sleeping so soundly under him? 

His fingers refused to budge, hands disobeying the rationale which commanded them. His grip goes slack, limp for they couldn’t conclude their obligation. They couldn’t, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. 

It’s not a protocol, nor a restriction coded into him. No, for the laws of morality, this land, and heaven would’ve called for him to be an executioner. To charge the transgressor with the judgment they deserved. But, he couldn’t.

Every fiber of his counterfeit body refused to take the sword. The chains which bind his hands were much mightier than the commandments of gods, the restraints of love. 

Thus, he’s nothing more than a prisoner in its hold. Bending to its whims, what else could he do? Removing his hands from your form as you continue to soundly sigh in the embrace of slumber. All he could do was lie down on a soft mattress and stare at the shameless sinner beside him.

A foolishly beloved monster. 

Slow steps pad through the quiet halls, floor boards singing a hymn with your leisurely steps. Approaching the end of the hall where the humble library resides, the oak doorway finally framed him in clear view. 

“There you are, Alhaitham.” You can’t help but sigh as your features soften. 

He stood there with his starlight locks in the morning glow of a brilliant sun amongst the collection of books in the library. Just as he always has been. 

Lifting his head away from the pages of the novel in his hand, he acknowledges your presence. He’s been heading here more often recently, right from the moment he leaves his side of the bed. 

“Good morning,” he recites, steadfast eyes remaining unreadable. 

Well, you suppose obtaining the title of a lover wouldn’t just overwrite the capriciousness of his mind. It’s just in his nature to be this way. This enigmatic lover of yours. Turning your attention to the cover that’s captured his focus. 

“Frankenstein?” Your brow quirks up. 

“Yes, the 1818 edition.” He closes the cover.

“Mmm, your interest seems quite piqued by that novel.” You wonder if that was the cause behind his frequent bouts of silent contemplation throughout the day. 

“I suppose it’s because I’m still deciphering the intentions of this story.” 

“That’s it?” A furrow now in your brows, a simple book has gotten the pinnacle of scientific progress stumped?

“Care to elaborate for me?” He turns toward you as your steps approach closer. 

Handing over the worn object to your outstretched hand, you analyze each faded corner of the cover. Mind recalling the recollections of the acclaimed revolutionary piece of science fiction. Formulating your answer, you share your conclusions with him.

“The story has several themes, but the central principle is quite defined. To quote a few words from another, scientific progress makes moral progress a necessity; for man’s power is increased, the checks that restrain him from abusing it must be strengthened.”

You reconnect your gaze with him, wondering if your explanation was satisfactory enough. Glancing down between the worn cover and your awaiting eyes, Alhaitham straightens his posture. 

“So you knew the moral of this story.” A glint in his glass eyes. 

“Well, I’ve read this book before,” you sigh at his inquest. 

“Then why didn’t you learn from it?” 

At that moment, the proud sun shielded itself away behind a cloak of clouds. Plunging the quiet library into a chill. How strange, why do you feel cold when a brilliant star of your creation stands right next to you?

“Alhaitham, you’re acting strange.” You take a step back as his scrutinizing gaze follows. Unaware of the crumbling edge approaching. 

“How much longer will you continue to deceive yourself, wife?” 

And that was it. The foundations of this mirage gave away under you, plunging you with much velocity into the depths of an unforgiving ocean. Tides that waited patiently to drag you down under.

Do you remember what happened that day? Do you really remember? The truth floods your being, engulfing every chasm of your mind. 

–----

“Did you jump at the opportunity of a trip to avoid mopping the floors?” You glared up at your husband. 

“My, how low do you think of me?” He glanced down, a wisp of mirth evident on his lips. 

“Well, instead of doing chores, you’d be chaperoning your in-laws around Fontaine. A Poor trade-off in my opinion, dear husband.” A hand firmly placed on your hip in a defiant stance as the murmur of the crowded airport moved around your figures. An ever so mocking tone toward the end.

“A fair assumption, dear wife. However, I’ve taken the initiative to book a tour for your parents, thus they won’t need my assistance. I’ll be free to browse some of the latest ruins and research from the Institute in the meantime.” The ghost of a smirk grew ever so obvious with each word, mirroring your emphasis of titles.

Ah, this was your loss. It seems that your husband had it all planned out as usual when he offered to take your spot on the plane. The perfect excuse to use up some paid time off, while also scoring a trip to satisfy his own whims. 

Your shoulders deflating in defeat as a deep sigh leaves you. You rest your head against his chest, the crowds moving around you in the bustling airport.

A private microcosm of him and you as he stands still, shielding you from the push and hustle of travelers trying to reach their terminal in time with his robust frame.

A bright clink of two rings pressed against each other lost in the noise.

“Why can’t you just stay?” You whispered into his shirt. 

“How strange, the woman who married me to secure a home and mortgage wants me to stay now.” 

You huffed into his in exasperation at him bringing up the origins of your union, an atypical start of a marriage.

His chest moved with a sigh, larger fingers intertwined with yours. The spaces fitted together, as he held them in his tender hold. 

“They can’t refund it. If I take your seat and recompensate them, your parents aren’t likely to hold this matter over your head.” His deep voice expounded. 

All you did was sigh, because he was right. Of course, he was. A sour taste on your tongue as you recall the interaction with your parents just a moment ago before you ran into the comfort of your husband. 

“Besides, it’d be refreshing for me to scribble down some travel logs, it'd be a shame if my wife runs out of material to snoop through.” 

“I just like looking at your handwriting,” you tutted, hiding your pout as you turned your face away. 

The same excuse you used whenever you copied off his notes in a lecture hall and when your outstretched hand asked for them over a study table.

A silly habit of yours, perhaps in your mind it made sense. If you could read the words of a genius, then maybe you could learn to be like one. 

“Of course, of course.” A smirk evident in his voice. 

You refused to meet his gaze, cheeks a bit heated from this habit of yours being exposed. You thought you were always careful with returning his journal back where he placed it. Averting your eyes to the bright screens displaying departing flights. A few minutes left before the announcement comes. Your grasp on his hand tightened. 

His thumb soothes your skin, leaning down closer to you. 

“Besides its advanced technology, Fontaine is also famous for its toymakers. I should pick a few up for our future child, no?” 

Blinking you as you glance back up at him. His teal irises reflect you as his expression softens just as yours did.

A room hidden away from the prying eye of nosy parents, its walls decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars. An assortment of items bought in advance for a child in the future. Stemming from whispers while recovering amongst dampen sheets in a room heavy with passion. 

Talks of the future, once this troublesome Ph.D. is finished and your position in a lab secured, a discussion of whether a child would inherit more of his traits or yours.

Planned for the future, of course, now's just a bit too busy. However, it didn’t stop you from taking the initiative to furnish a spare room. A chaotic collection of cosmic influences along with an assortment of books meshing together to create an adoring space. 

But the soft smile on your lips was still tense. Teal eyes took note of that, pulling you closer amidst this microcosm, a moment so subtle it went unnoticed by the attention of passer-byers. 

“It’ll just be for a week,” his voice resonated in his chest. “Then I’ll come back and build that bassinet as my wife wishes.” 

Finally, the glimmer he yearned to see returned to your eyes. 

“You better, the box has been sitting unopened for a week now,” you huff with a smile. 

He only hummed in acknowledgment as the ring of a loudspeaker resounded through the chatter. Announcing the final call for passengers boarding the flight to the Nation of Hydro. Casting a glance toward the terminal, he gave your hand one more squeeze before they reluctantly untangled from one another. 

“You should get going now.” Your eyes reflect him. 

He hums one last time, turning in the direction of the terminal where your parents were. Just before his tall figure was lost in the sea of passing bodies, your lips couldn’t keep themselves pressed together any longer. 

“Haitham!” You called out. 

The fluorescent lights reflected off his starlight hair as he turned back around. Connect teal eyes with yours. But not another word left your lips, no they’d simply be drowned out in the clammer of strangers. Besides, it’s just too public to say such words aloud. 

Thus, you slowly close your eyes, opening them back up just as steadily with the soft curl of your lips. A motion he reciprocated with a slow blink of his own, a hint of a smile on his stoic lips. A wordless gesture kept a secret between only the two of you, a silent ‘I love you’. It was all you needed to convey this message to each other. 

He continued on his path to the terminal as you stood amongst the crowd, watching him fade into the distance. 

–----

So how did that moment turn into this? How did a trip that was supposed to only be a week turn into a news report? How did well wishes for a safe trip turn into coworkers and friends approaching you with nothing but sympathy in their words? Those vile, pitied stares directed toward your rigid frame. 

You should’ve been the one on that plane.

Only about 1 in about 11 million. A 0.00001% chance, a nonzero chance.

Plans no matter how intricate or detailed, their success all hang on a single thread, one factor unable to be cultivated by human hands: Luck. 

Oh how cruel they are, those capricious hands of gods. Not even the leniency of returning to a lonely planet the corpses of their stars. Traces of a beloved star left to sink and disappear in a cold, salty grave. Never to return to the surface. 

You and Alhaitham were two simple dots in this world, so why did they target you two? Why steal him from you with their cruel hands? Why steal him and leave you abandoned with nothing but the memory of the warm starlight? 

You had so…so much love left inside you. But it went stagnant. Sitting there rotting until it poisoned you, throwing you into feverish delirium. If the gods abandoned you, then you resolved to abandon them right back. 

You’ll bring back your star, you’ll defy the edicts of the gods with your bare hands. You’ll sin the same way a god does. 

“Casting aside your morals, you allowed the dead to walk again through a sham imitation, congratulations. ” His voice matched one which could only come from an engineered throat. 

This was a fool's errand.

For how could a mere human ever be arrogant enough to believe they could best the gods? This was the hindsight you lacked. Perhaps what’s separated you from the gifted and blessed geniuses? Something geniuses knew but you couldn’t see.

The accursed doctorate on the wall meant nothing, you were nothing but a mad fool. 

Perhaps, if you were a genius, a true and born genius, you’d know what to do. You’d know how to mend this dilemma. You’d know what to do instead of letting your vision be blurred by imprudent tears as your throat could only choke out,

“I’m sorry.” Words you knew couldn’t turn back the hands of a clock which only knew how to tick forward.

“But now what?” Deep voice unmoved by your wasted words. 

You didn’t dare meet his stare, for you feared you’d catch a glimpse of the bitterness behind them as he cursed you deep down in the whir of his motor. You could only stay silent as tears ignited in your eyes, waiting for him to continue with his damnation. 

“In a climate like Sumeru’s, it would take approximately 25 years or so for a body to fully decompose, bones reduced to nothing but nutrients for the soil. Silicone alone takes 500 years, a metal frame could take another 500.” He knows now that he’s not a human, he was never meant to be.

He’s a crude replacement. An abomination who’ll remain until the day the night sky flickers out. 

“You brought him back, only to condemn him to eventual loneliness. Only to curse ‘me’ to live the next aeons without you”

An irresponsible and shameless villain who disregarded consequences until those consequences came to collect their dues. It’s time that you faced your punishment.

A hand cups around your stiff face, gradually turning your head until you see your reflection along glass irises.

“How will you atone for your sins now? How will you take responsibility for making me fall in love with you?… my very own Dr. Frankenstein.” His voice restrained. 

Yes, a story you’ve read before. A lesson unfolded out in front of you, and yet you somehow forgot. Or perhaps, you simply averted your eyes from the moral of the story while simultaneously committing the same transgression. Did you think yourself better than the fictional lunatic? 

The atrocity of giving life, only to eventually abandon it, leaving it to watch the stars burn out in a cage of harsh fluorescent lights and white lab coats. 

The millions of mora poured into his development, the materials which construct his form, and the proprietary technology which gives him thought. Did you believe even for a moment that the prideful Fontainian Research Institute and the arrogant Kshahrewar Darshan would simply hand over such an investment?

To allow their expenditure to follow you to eternity?

You couldn’t live without him, but now he’ll have to live without you.

Oh, what shall you do now? Oh, what can you do now? Did you even know where to begin? How did the story of Frankenstein end? How would she have written the ending of this scene?

When human rational meets its limits, when its capacity isn’t enough to compute all possible prospects. Humans look towards something that could, technological advancements made to further humanity. 

“W-what do I do now?” You prompt, no, you beg. 

Watching the rivulets roll down your cheeks, leaving a path of glimmering desperation, he ponders to himself:

When you first proposed this project to the Akademiya and Institute, when you detailed the specifications of his body and face, were they aware of your true intentions?

Rather than this being an experiment to see if an android could cross the threshold of humanity. Maybe those researchers were curious to see how far one could fall in the paroxysm of grief. 

You became the perfect test subject to observe.

But now that the curtains were pulled back, what shall you do about the aftermath? There was never a precedent for a transgression of this scale. No holy commandment ever details a rightful punishment for this sin. No historical data he could infer from. 

“I don’t know,” he answers you truthfully. 

It’s just an untold void like the vacuums of space. No results generated in his mind, leaving the both of you suspended in oblivion. Maybe that was the punishment in itself, stuck in the purgatory of the unknown. Perhaps this was the punishment bestowed upon a foolish sinner. 

Upon hearing your sentencing, your knees begin to buckle under the weight of the judgment from above. Resigned grasp clinging to his hand still cradling your face, his engineered frame not budging in the slightest. Voice staggered as only pitiful and broken apologies resonate in a vacant house. 

All he could do was wipe those scorching droplets off your cheeks as they seared his skin. Was this feature also programmed into him by your hands? If so, then he muses to himself:

Did the hands who penned down those words also revert into nothing more than a pathetic fool at the mere sight of your tears? Did his chest also grow heavier with each choked sob that left you?

Perhaps the chains which bind his hands tethered yours just the same. A pair of foolish sinners. 

Thus, he’s resolved himself to be thrown into the unmerciful clutches of this untold purgatory right alongside you. Even if he’s the only one to remain in the end. 

To be human is to be unthignkably foolish after all. As long as he could still hold onto a wisp of you for the inevitable aeons.  

It’s fine.

Fin~

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

[facefullofsadness]

The world needs guitarist winter!! 🗣🗣🔥🔥🔥 (i die a little each time i see her with a guitar)

AGREE!!! everyday that has passed since 230225 winter playing guitar at synk hyper line in seoul for the first time has just been me trying to recover and seek guidance bc damn, she ruined my life and it's all I've been able to think about

content - rockstar guitarist!winter, best friend's sister!winter, dom!winter, includes txt members (beomgyu and yeonjun) and giselle, song references, smut (messy and wild sex, slight degradation, fingering, cunnilingus, strap-on usage, choking, breeding kink, quickies, squirting, vibrator usage, semi-public sex/voyeurism)

wc - 3122

a/n - a loaded one since it's been a while. I had sm fun writing this in general, but especially a certain part (I think u'll be able to tell when u get there), I was laughing my ass off so fking hard. also I just got a haircut that's very wolf-cut-y so it helped a whole bunch to get into writing this lol, committed to the bit!

winter's a damn good guitarist.

she's fuckinggg hotttt too when she plays and she knows it. watched a vid of her recently doing her guitar solo during girls and after the final riff she smirked at the camera and I LITERALLY COMBUSTED DEAR LORD.

anyway, I imagine her in a rock band, one with beomgyu, and they're both just the hot, wolf-cut, dark emo guitarists. you're the lead singer and front man of the band and were the reason the band formed in the first place. you were besties with beomgyu and you two wrote and composed music from time to time, always having the idea of a band as a passion project at the back of your minds.

eventually, gyu recruited his sister, minjeong. the three of you worked together diligently, recruiting yeonjun as a drummer who knew and dragged along aeri as a bassist. it was truly a dream come true, getting to pursue what you're passionate about the most with your best friend and a group of people just as enthusiastic as you were.

though, it was hard to focus with such a pretty girl like kim minjeong breathing down your neck at all times. you, beomgyu, and minjeong would primarily work together on music, usually going from the afternoon until after midnight hours. while minjeong was only a few months older than your best friend, she'd boss him around and push him to go home, saying it was late and that their mom needed to see at least one of them to know they were okay. he'd groan and complain about it, especially since you and him were the main collaborators for songs and were the best when you were together, but she'd always promise to take good care of you, whatever that meant (huehuehue).

beomgyu cares more about you as a little sister than he does his own sister so when he gets confirmation that she'll take care of you, he accepts it and goes home early, leaving you and minjeong in the studio alone. you bite your lip as you watch the door close, your friend leaving you behind with her.

"just you and me now, huh pretty?" the girl leans into you on the couch.

you shift uncomfortably at the close proximity and try to subtly scooch away, "uh yeah, I guess so... we should try to finish this arrangement before we get out of here."

you try your best to compose yourself and act professional, hearing minjeong's deep chuckle next to you, "alright then."

actually getting work done and writing some lyrics alongside figuring out the instrumental arrangement with minjeong since she's the other guitarist, besides beomgyu (also bc he left). you tell her that you get frustrated with the fact you're not that good at playing, her having asked why you don't just make the arrangements yourself. and so, she decides to teach you! well, "teach you."

placing her acoustic Silvertone on your lap and crawling up slowly behind you, her warm body pressed up against your back, the brush of her lips against your ear making you shiver. she brings her arms over and places her hands over yours, guiding them around the strings and assisting with the chords.

she whispers deep and raspy into your ear various instructions, "if you cover this entire fret and press down on these strings, you'll get the F Barre chord. it's a little difficult but nothing you can't manage, right princess?"

"the placement kinda hurts..." you complain, feeling the burn of the metal strings against your skin.

"it'll be a little painful when you start, but with practice you'll get better. you have to press down harder than that though," her pressing your fingers down harder against the nylon strings.

whining softly at the pain, making her lips come closer to your ear, "come on baby, you can do it, a little pain goes a long way. I know you can handle it."

a chill runs down your spine at her words, proceeding to repeatedly attempt to strum the chord correctly until the sound was full.

"good girl, it wasn't that bad right?" you turn to face her, her lips just centimeters away from yours.

your breath picks up at her proximity and a smirk tugs at her lips, moving her face into your neck and hotly sighing against it.

"how badly do you want it, hm? how badly do you want me to fuck you like a rockstar?"

your grip on her guitar tightens as her mouth trails around your neck, gasping when you feel her tongue drag across slowly.

"what do you think you're doing?"

"nothing you don't want me to already, sweetheart."

you lean into her touch, moving your hand away from the body of the guitar to lace your fingers through her soft wolf-cut hair, pulling her head in further into your neck, now placing wet kisses against the skin.

you suddenly shoot your eyes open at the realization of what you two are doing and stutter, "I-I don't think we should be doing th-this... we need to finish the arrangement... and also, y-your brother, what will h-he think?"

you stumble over your words as minjeong just hums in response to, continuing to leave sloppy marks across your neck, feeling her make hickeys on parts of your skin that wouldn't be noticeable.

"we have all the time in the world to finish the song. but what about gyu? did you want him instead then?" she asks, almost threateningly, challenging you to say yes.

in response, you whimper and pull her head in further towards your neck, practically begging her not to go away.

"don't you feel ashamed letting your best friend's sister do this to you? or are you just a slut?"

you don't answer, only shut your eyes and bite your lip. minjeong doesn't like that, resulting in her hand to pull you by the hair backwards, head facing the ceiling. your eyes shot open at the contact and you see her blown pupils staring into yours.

her voice comes out low and dark, "answer me whore. tell me what you are, I wanna hear you say it."

you gulp down a lump in your throat, debating if you should listen to her or to your morals. all sense jumps out the window when she sexily raises her eyebrow at you, an expectant expression sitting on her aroused face.

fuck it whatever, she's too fucking hot, "I'm your slut, minjeong, all yours."

finishing the arrangement? what a joke! she has your legs spread wide open on the soundboard, skillful fingers pumping in and out of your squelching cunt, your head thrown back, moaning into the hot air of the studio. her one hand plunging deep into your pussy while the other one is wrapped around your waist, holding you close, keeping your thighs propped open with her body. and she's just watching you, her mouth slightly open and lips a deep dark plump red, her messy hair tousled, bangs sticking to her sweaty forehead. she loves watching how your face contorts in response to her digits curling to hit that delicious spot in your hole, hitting it repeatedly, her palm slapping against your clit with every quick thrust of her hand. the sounds of your croaky moans, wet and clenching pussy, and her heavy breathing fill the sound-proof room, the thought of productivity not even grazing either of your minds.

the pleasure built so much, you felt that knot in your stomach tighten. minjeong quickened her pace as she felt your legs start to shake around her, sensing how close you were to cumming. it was all too much and you suddenly orgasmed, crying out moans with every wave of delight that surged through your body, thighs trembling, eyes rolled back and mouth hung open, your hands gripping her shoulders for dear life. she intently watched with a lustful stare at every expression your face made while you came, memorizing how good you looked when she fucked you. pulling her fingers out and collecting every drop of cum you leaked onto her hand and wrist, licking it clean until a thin sheet of her saliva remained.

"open your fucking mouth and stick your tongue out," she demanded with a deep voice.

you obeyed and gagged, feeling her tongue shove itself down your throat, forcefully swallowing her saliva and your cum. drool seeped out the sides of your lips as she continued her onslaught in your mouth, feeling her clothed hips grind against your sensitive clit, moans slipping out of your throat in the form of gags.

she'd pull away suddenly, tongue exiting your mouth with a wet slurping noise, making you cough. "you. are. mine. remember that."

she'd remind you, running her damp fingers through her hair.

these late night escapades continued to occur with every single long session held in the studio (she definitely recorded some audios of you guys fucking for sureeee). the creative part of you wanted beomgyu to stay and help with the music, but the sinful part of you so desperately wanted him to leave as soon as possible to have his sister all to yourself. your best friend never caught on to you and minjeong, but oh, yeonjun and aeri caught on like THAT. the tension between you two was so palpable, the two older members would side eye you during practices and giggle to each other, watching the two of you eye fuck from across the room.

eventually, the band's popularity would build and proceed to skyrocket, leading to your guys' first tour. tour meant performing together, traveling together, being with each other, and ultimately, tour meant being with minjeong. and so when management would get 3 hotel rooms for you all, 1 for the boys, 1 for the girls, and well, 1 for aeri being the sleeping beauty she is, rooming with minjeong meant a few things. practicing together, writing and composing together, and sleeping together (for the girls in the back, SEX).

throwing you onto the bed as soon as you reach your hotel room, tearing your clothes off and pinning you down, sloppily kissing each other. she'd prep you by eating you out, sticking her wet muscle inside of your leaking core, caressing your walls and flicking against your g-spot. you bit down hard on the pillow, muffling your moans as her thumb covered in her saliva rubbed against your throbbing clit. her pulling away right before you came and putting on a strap-on she brought on tour (for you of course!), wasting no time in thrusting it into you.

the pillow probably did nothing to silence your screams as she mercilessly fucked you into the mattress, hand pressing down on your lower stomach to feel her cock pumping in and out of you, the tip of her dick hitting your cervix again and again, her thumb still stimulating your clit. minjeong had your back arching, your hands flew everywhere, trying to grip onto anything to ground yourself, but nothing was enough, even as you screamed and bit down on your pillow. your eyes watered and your vision blurred as she rammed into you, the dark-haired girl moving her hands to wrap around your neck, choking you, gradually adding pressure with every rough thrust. her pants eventually became moans too, loving the feeling of the side of her strap hitting that delicious spot inside of her too, slapping her clit against yours as she bottomed out in you.

"I'm gonna fucking cum in you y/n, I'm gonna knock you up, fill you up until you're leaking both of us," minjeong growls above you, lowering her face to level with yours.

you feel tears fall down the sides of your face and your throat sore from another scream ripped out of you as well as her hands around your neck as she throws the pillow in your mouth onto the floor, attaching her mouth to yours instead. you cry onto her tongue as you orgasm against her strap, toes curling and legs wrapped around her waist, nails digging into minjeong's shoulders, cum gushing out of you as you feel her cock shoot fake ropes of white liquid into you, filling you up. you feel her shake in your arms too as she cums, her pleasure leaking out onto your thighs, soaking the bedsheets. she collapses on top of you, both of you desperately gasping for air, her dick still inside of you, keeping the fake cum from leaking out.

"good thing we have another bed."

of course being on tour also meant fucking in the green room before a performance. having done interviews all morning, having a concert for the tour tonight, minjeong was so mean! she had you wear a vibrator the entire day! it would be on the lowest setting up until the interviewer would ask you a question. she would turn up the intensity and you would squirm as you tried to answer, gripping your ripped jeans, almost causing another tear. and so when you two were left alone in the green room for just a minute, she took you right then and there, your legs wide open on the sofa, her mouth stimulating your clit while she increased the vibrator's setting to max, thrusting it in and out of you.

you were screaming in pleasure, all the built up tension in your stomach finally being relieved with each pump of the sex toy in your pussy. you clutched onto her leather jacket for dear life as you came all over her face, squirting everywhere. she licked as much as she could and you both worked quickly to clean before anyone came back. your members, staff, and the fans would notice you limping around on stage that night, winter with an especially evil smirk resting on her face.

being on tour also meant getting fingered in the bathroom backstage. it's literally 10 minutes to showtime, but minjeong NEEDED to fuck you now! her calloused fingers pumping in and out of you while you reciprocated fingering her too. both of your skirts hiked up and panties pushed to the side (no safety shorts? idk this is fiction, ignore it!), moaning desperately into each others mouths as you messily and sloppily made out against the bathroom stall door. curling your fingers at the same time, biting down on her lip while her fingernails dug into your thigh at the feeling. rolling your hips against her palm to stimulate your clit, her repeating the motion and pinning you harder to the door so that your bodies were flush against one another.

screaming into each other's mouths as you came at the same time, cum dripping down your wrist. quickly cleaning one another up (with your tongues, yup) and running to your places since there was literally THIRTY SECONDS to showtime! beomgyu confusedly looking at you two in frustration, asking where you guys had been, yeonjun and aeri rolling their eyes laughing, still lowkey irritated that you guys were LITERALLY FUCKING instead of getting ready to perform smh. everyone definitely noticed the redness in both of your cheeks. winter had fingered you with her calloused hand, the dampness making it more difficult to play the chords during that show, the band noticing the change in effectivity too (how technical!).

at some point, the fans would notice the tension between you two. who wouldn't ship the lead singer with the guitarist in a band anyway right? especially when it's the hot dark wolf-cut emo guitarist winter and the stunning pretty charismatic lead singer. but of course that wasn't the only reason, you guys were soooo obvious. you're singing the flirty and seductive lyrics towards her, minjeong returning a smirk back at you and sticking her tongue out while she fingerpicks her guitar, raising her eyebrows when she does. trailing your fingertips over her bare skin in skimpy outfits they'd put her in onstage, singing the lyrics into her ears.

or literally just flat out fucking saying it. like having those soundcheck Q&As where fans would ask you questions like "if you were to date one of the members, who would you date?"

answering each other's names at the same time, causing everyone to laugh in the audience, beomgyu gagging, and yeonjun and aeri holding back laughter. minjeong following up by saying something like "I mean, it's not like it hasn't happened before." LIKE WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?

or when you and winter are in an interview and they ask what the inspiration was behind a particular song, let's say a more sexy song, and she responds first, "well, every song that we've written has influences from our own personal experiences."

the interviewer would be like, "so then is it true when you sing quote 'I might fuck your friend, I made my mind up'?"

you blush profusely and winter just dies laughing, "I'll let you guys decide that one."

"y/n, you wrote "we go for hours and it's still good" correct?" the interviewer continues.

"yes yes but the details don't really matter do they?" you nervously laugh while minjeong drills holes into the side of your head, staring at you with a playful and sinister smirk on the side.

my favorite headcanon to think about is online discourse regarding you and minjeong. your guys' new mv dropped for your latest single and there are a bunch of scenes with you and winter acting like an angsty couple in the rain, making up in the end by having an alluded to sex scene (lmao, wild if this actually would ever happen).

I just imagine twt going INSANEEE.

slut4winter: DID Y/N AND WINTER FUCK AT THE END OF THE VIDEO?!?!?

y/nonechancepls: i literally cannot defend minjeong and y/n anymore...

beomgyuswolfcut: bro, winter fr cucked her brother from y/n 😭😭

aerifuckinguchinaga: win-y/n's chemistry is a lil too real yall 💀

drumjunyeonjun: not them saying it was their fav scene to film, the closet is made out of AIR, IM SICK OF U F WORDS !!!

and of course, despite all of this, your dear bestie and minjeong's brother doesn't catch on. at times, beomgyu will be all what the fuck is going on when you two say something that has double entendre or has some sort of underlying meaning.

yeonjun usually just pats him on the back while laughing, "oh my friend, never change, never change."

aeri being such a nosy friend LOVES hearing you rant about it, chin propped up on her fist, leaning forward against the table, a cheeky grin on her face. with every spicy detail, she's always just like, "girllll, you're insane and wild, but good for you!"

a/n - like rq, through a guitarist pov, winter is so attractively good at guitar it pisses me off. also headcanon songs this band would make are like wdywfm by the neighbourhood, sex by the 1975, do I wanna know by arctic monkeys, and slow down by chase atlantic. incredibly self indulgent hc and WHAT ABOUT IT!!

[write4cench]

distractions.

summary: central cee and you decided to collaborate together on a track together, but when things get a little too heated your minds drive… elsewhere

pairings: single!central cee x reader

genre: smut.. just smut

word count: 2.6k+ (unedited)

a/n: this is my first smut lmao can't believe i've done this, i mean i couldn’t help it central cee too fine. i’m not the best at it though.. 😁😁🙏🏾

central cee and you both spend your time in his private studio, located in his apartment. it's decently sized but not too spacious, regardless it gets the job done and the both of you manage to produce and record your lines for the track.

you've both wanted to work with one another on a song together and so have your fans, they've been awaiting this for so long that your management team decided it was the best decision.

you stand on inside of the booth looking down at the lyrics sheet that lies in front of you, humming the rhythm before the track plays within your headphones and you begin to sing along over your back vocals.

cench sits in front of you layed back in one of the wheely chairs that sit behind the booth, he watches you sing nodding his head to the rhythm of the song but also impressed by your vocal abilities.

it's the two of you alone in the studio which is quiet unusual considering the fact that during the last studio sessions the studio was filled with friends of central cee who decided to show up.

but instead this time, it's only the two of you. but it feels far from awkward it feels comforting and you both focus on getting the work done.

the song's chorus comes to and end and he stops the instrumental from playing again, upon finishing you glance at him and put a thumbs up asking him if you did good enough of a job, he nods and you do a small celebration that makes him laugh.

he begins to speak but it's too muffled due to the soundproof booth so you take your headphones off and open the door slightly to hear him better, "you did great, we don't even have to run it over again." he admits and you smile.

"you sure, i feel like some of it was a little off." you tell him but he shakes his head in refusal so you decided to leave it since it is his song after all.

"can i hear it over?" you ask him and he nods playing it over again, you put the headphones back onto your head and listen to it carefully.

the song starts off with central cee's wonderful rap that as usual never miss, the song then slips into the chorus that you sing and the beat drop before it sounds perfect.

the booth of you glance at one another in satisfaction at the song so far, sharing a smile as it continues before stopping at the progress so far.

"i think it's great so far." you say with a sigh as you sit behind the booth on one of the wheely chair turning yourself side to side.

"it's more than great." he mumbles.

the room is quiet and you decide to take out your phone, you glance at the time to see it read 10:43pm, it's getting later and you consider leaving within the next 20 minutes.

he finds an interest in the piano in front of the two of you, playing random notes that don't even sound too great together, you watch him finding the sight hilarious he notices so and shrugs embarrassed.

"i'm not too much a piano player," he sighs shaking his head trying to save himself, "i took lessons for a week and gave up on it." he clarifies and you nod your head numerously in a joking manner.

"can you even play any instrument?" you ask him genuinely and he shakes his head, your mouth drops in disbelief.

"maybe it's something i should get into, i don't play anything." he admits before smiling sheepishly.

"i'll show you something."

your hands find a placement onto the keyboard, testing out the position by pressing down on the notes to get the right keys. you begin to play something small and watch how his face turns into full surprise.

you smile as you continue before you get to distracted by him watching you and pause, "i can't focus with you watching me like that." you tell him annoyed and he laughs.

"forget i'm even here." he sighs closing his eyes and leaning back into your seat; you watch him do so frowning.

"how am i supposed to forget your there." you tell him but he doesn't respond so you exhale deeply before continuing to play the piano.

you'd admit, it's been a while since you've last played the piano but you've impressed yourself by still remembering the notes to the piece you play every single time.

you continue to play the piano forgetting he's even there until you come to an end, when you turn to look at him he's still laid back into his seat with his eyes closed, his hood lying over his head.

is he sleeping?

you hit him on the side of his arm and he winces before sitting upright, his hand rushing to soothe where he was attacked, "that fucking hurt." he groans and you smile to yourself.

"were you sleeping whilst i was playing?" you question him and he sighs still whining over the punch you just gave him.

"you didn't need to punch me like that," he starts watching how you only smile, "i wasn't sleeping, i was just resting my eyes innit."

you hum in response and watch how he sits upright in his seat rolling the chair over to stand beside you, he glances over the keys on the piano before speaking. "teach me something." he says.

"what am i supposed to teach you." you question him, he shrugs his shoulders with a yawn not helping you one bit.

"i dunno, maybe a chord or some shit." he utters and you bite your lip in thought of watch chord to do. he watches as your hand runs along the keyboard thinking of a position before it plays a chord.

he watches you carefully and when the pleasing sound rings he glances at you only to find you looking at him already, "did you see that?" you ask him and he shakes his head.

you roll your eyes in response, "what, am i supposed to get it on the first try?" he questions you confused only to see you nod.

you watch as his tattooed hand reaches over attempting to do the same hand movement that you did, but it doesn't succeed to make the correct sound.

"no, your supposed to do it like this." you mumble, your hand reaching over to correct his. you move his hand one down along and place it on top of his getting him to push it down as it sounds the correct chord.

"what chord was that?" he asks you curiously, you glance to look at him and it's only then you both notice how close you are to one another.

"c." you say. upon hearing your response he laughs to himself and you watch him confused, after seeing your confused face he stops laughing.

"it wasn't a c, for central cee." you mumble.

"yeah, definitely."

"you're not that special." you joke to him as you move your hand away from his and he nods gazing at you, it's only when you look up that your eyes meet his.

"mhm."

silence. you don't know what to say to him and you won't lie the way that his voice sounded when he hummed did something to you. you feel your cheeks begin to redden and you mentally curse at yourself.

luckily, the room is tinted dark blue so it's impossible for him to notice a thing; or it could just really be due to your melanated skin.

it's obvious that he notices how he's caught you out of words as a smirk grows upon his face, you watch his lips do so until he brings you out of your thoughts. "i got you quiet, i won." he mumbles.

you remain quiet not saying anything until the space between the two of you becomes smaller, before you could think of anything your lips press against his.

you can feel his smirk widen against your lips wider before he kisses you back, deeper but not too desperate. you don't even notice the fact you've just kissed central cee, your mind is just completely filled with.. desire.

the kiss runs long and you feel his arms wrap around your lower waist bringing you close to him, but the inconvenience of the chairs makes you get up from your chair and sit up on his lap instead.

it's then that everything hits you and you pull apart from his lips, your chest heaves numerously in sync with his and you eyes glance all over his face as you realise what's happening.

his gaze reads something completely different, his once playful eyes have turned dark and hazy showcasing lust instead it makes you ache for more and the position of you siting up on him creates even more need within your lower region.

"fuck." he says and before you know it, he's kissing you again. the kiss is more desperate and you fall into it, he takes the dominance but you try to keep a hold of everything by wrapping your arms around his neck.

you feel him grow harder and harder beneath you just how you grow desperate and desperate, you need him badly just as bad as you need him. you'd never ever think that tonight would turn out the way it did.

your hips subconsciously begin to move slowly against his but he grabs a hold of you stopping you, his lips part away from you and you frown at him, he sees this and smiles.

he kisses your neck and you lean your head back giving him even more space, you don't care that you'll probably end up with hickies all over your neck when you feel him slightly bite you, all you need is him.

"i need you so bad." he mumbles against your neck before pecking your neck all the way up to the side of your face, you look at one another before it hits and you share a smile.

before you know it your up from his lap and your hands occupy themselves into pulling his sweats down, when you see the sight of his harden self through his pants you glance back up at him only to see him covering his face with his hand.

you pull down his boxers and he springs free his member hitting you against your nose catching you aback, you stare at him for a moment but a moment too long and he peers down at you.

"don't just stare at it." he groans and you smile, you lick the tip of his cock and the pleasing sensation sends a moan to leave his lips. you tease him, your tounge running around the tip where he's most sensitive and he moans.

he grows to desperate and before you know it his hand comes up to your head, he finds a comfort in your hair before he pushes your head down his shaft slowly.

you breathe through your nose as you take in his size before growing used to it and beginning to pump your head slowly down his shaft continuously causing him to groan quietly.

he uses your head to help him reach his high, pumping you slowly down him but also muttering how good you are occasionally. you feel your eyes begin to water slightly but luckily you don't have to much of a gag reflex.

"fuck, you're so good." he groans as he watches you take him, his hand helping to move your hair away from your face, he closes his eyes tightly as he approaches his orgasm.

his moans become shorter and more intense and it's then you can tell that he's about to release any minute. perfect. you pull away from him and he looks down at you confused.

you watch as he glares at you annoyed, "what the fuck was that for?" he asks you but you don't say anything rubbing your mouth clean with the back of your hand.

his eyes don't leave you once, reading nothing but pissed at the interruption of his orgasm, he watches you as you take off your trousers and pants; his cock twitching ever so slightly as it pleads for your attention.

"you think i'd let you cum first?" you ask him and he furrows his brows in complete denial.

you approach him as you kick away your lower clothes that pool around your feet, glaring at him "fuck me then." you tell him, he watches you with his mouth agape never expecting to see you turn into a completely different person.

you lean against the producing equipment waiting for him expectantly, but when you feel his presence behind you and his hands hold your ass you let out a moan.

he slaps your ass, making you gasp at the sudden pain before he rubs your cheek to soothe it. he pulls out a condom from the inside of his pocket and you turn around to glance at him at the sound of it opening.

"you had that on you all along?" you ask him and he grins taking it out before pulling it over his cock.

"knew i'd need it." and with that he pushes himself into you slowly without warning making your mouth agape.

he waits for a moment until he's all the way in you before he starts to move, thrust in and out of you each time causing you to moan.

your bodies are in sync as he fucks you getting turned on by the sight of you bent before him as he fucks you senseless. he gradually becomes more faster and his thrusts become stronger.

"shit." you moan although your words sound all messed up due to the rocking back and forth you experience from his thrusts.

your hands hold onto the bumpy toggles in front of you trying to find something to hold onto as you take each thrust that runs through you. you're floating in ecstasy and it all feels too good.

he moans many things under his breath that you can't pick up on too busy by being engulfed in the intense pleasure you experience as you gradually approach your high.

you feel his hand reach over underneath you, rubbing your sensitive clit whilst he takes you; the feeling of him inside you, but his hand rubbing on your sensitive bud makes it all eventually unbareable.

your moans become louder and more desperate as you feel your high approaching; once again his hand slaps your ass earning another loud gasp from you.

your hair is held up my his hand and it's obvious your makeup is probably fucked up by now, but at this point that doesn't even matter to you anymore. everything just feels too good.

you reach your orgasm and pant vigorously, he notices this and pulls out of you rubbing himself with his hand as he releases himself inside of his condom.

you rest your head on the equipment in front of you as you both catch your breath, it's only then that you feel your legs become to grow all achy and weak.

"shit, my legs." you laugh to yourself as you wobble; he notices this and laughs tying the condom and obviously throwing it into the bin.

"good luck." he jokes and you roll your eyes.

"i need to shower." you complain feeling all sticky as usual after sex, he hums in agreement.

"i'll shower with you." he smiles.

you attempt to push him away but due to your growing weak legs you fail, instead complaining about how sore they are. seems like central cee has won in keeping you quiet.

"so are we gonna work on the track again?"

"probably not for now."

[filmbyjy]

MISUNDERSTANDING

— the mafia series

PAIRING: nishimura riki x fem!reader

SUMMARY: you were never curious about people's lives but ni-ki's one has you intrigued. why weren't the teachers scolding him? getting mad at him for leaving in the middle class. it was just weird. that is until you find the very reason as to why the teachers were not doing anything. one thing led to another and somehow, you were roped into this mess.

WARNING: blood mentioned, fights and mafia, stabbing. if you remember the dark blood fight scene with sunghoon and ni-ki, you can imagine that but way more gory and also actually stabbing the person with an actual katana (not to sunghoon though, but to an actual bad guy)

WORD COUNT: 9.3K (I BEAT JAKE'S ONE?? WTH)

NOTE: lord have mercy, this took too much procrastination, sweat and tears to do finish this. like no joke. plus with the edition of me either forgetting to do it or me just having no mood to write. I FUCKING FINISHED IT!!! BE PROUD OF ME 🫵🏼🫵🏼🫵🏼🫵🏼

ONE

being a kid exposed to crimes at a young age wasn’t a peculiar thing. however, it was the life of a young boy who went by ni-ki. you see, ni-ki was one of the seven successful young billionaires in the world. his family name was already plastered to every billboard. the Nishimura Cooperation, they were one of the pillars to korea’s and japan’s success. any normal person would just look at them and acknowledge their power but what they didn’t know was…how did they get their power?

the nishimura family built their entire empire by doing dirty work which led to a huge money income. they bought their way up to the top and managed to gain countless of loyal followers. Eventually collaborating with the Park Corp. which was jay’s family company. Many were surprised to see that ni-ki was dabbling in a little of his family business because at the age of 18, nobody would willingly want to participate in business. The Nishimura Corp was mainly stationed in Japan so ni-ki handled the work done in Korea since he was already here.

as usual, as a teenager, ni-ki would be in school. however, he never studied nor did he care about his scores. why should he when is already a millionaire/billionaire at 18? he could easily buy his way through the system but his parents didn’t allow him. they wanted their son to get his certificate the right way. the same way his 2 other sisters were going through in Japan. ni-ki could only obey his parents’ words, they knew what was best for him. which leads into the female protagonist of his life story, you being his classmate.

ni-ki was like any normal teen boy. angsty, hates school and a little jokester who is always on the verge of getting detention. you had never understood why the teachers never actually sent the boy to detention, it was…weird.

“(name) and ni-ki.” the teacher announces. there was this project that you had for an English class, something about literature and poetry. you had to find some classical romance novel that fits the criteria. which you didn’t fully understand. honestly, you never even liked English class, the teacher just rubs you the wrong way. either way, ni-ki was now your project partner. you were already plotting different ways to approach him and actually get him to do his work. you weren’t oblivious to the fact that ni-ki rarely ever participates in school work.

“hi, we have to do a project together.” you timidly say after you approached him. The boy before you looked bored, seems like he doesn’t fancy English class too. 

ni-ki sighs, “yeah, listen. I don’t really like English class so we should get this stupid project done and over with. i also have other important things to do.”

well, at least he was honest. you hummed at his words, “seems like we have something in common. let’s get this project done quickly then let’s meet in the library at 3pm?”

ni-ki shrugs, “alright then. if i’m late, don’t bother waiting for me. I have a pretty busy schedule and life so school and this project is the least of my worries.”

“no problem, just let me know if you can participate in this project. If you can't, I'll just do it by myself and slap your name somewhere on the paper.” you say. ni-ki tilts his head but he didn’t protest your suggestion.

“that will be great. Now, I need to run some errands.” he leaves the classroom, the teacher not even bothering to even ask where he was going. clearly, they were too used to him leaving the class in the middle of nowhere or maybe they knew something you didn’t.

“he is weird…” you mutter under your breath.

as expected, ni-ki did not show up at the library. you sighed and just continued working on the project. you weren’t exactly surprised he wouldn’t show up but you still hope he’d at least have some manners and actually show up. It was 5pm, you were finishing up on your part of the project. You still had to do his part and then come up with a short little poem because your teacher wanted to make it more sentimental or whatever she wanted.

ni-ki shows up, busted and bruised up. his hair was dishevelled, blood at the corner of his lips, he looked rough. something an 18 year old boy shouldn’t be having, you confused. just as he draws nearer, you notice there was a cut on his cheeks, small drips of blood slowly falling down. you gasp.

“sorry, had some business to attend to.” he says sheepishly.

“this is your business to attend to? why are you so bloodied and bruised up? who did you have a fight with?”

“just some group.” he shrugs. “don’t worry, my older friends were there to help me out. well, it’s not like they really helped.” he mutters the last part.

“uh, well this can’t be some sort of tiny thing. you’re bleeding.”

he reaches to touch his cheek and swipes the blood away. he winces a little and shrugs, “nothing too bad. been through worse. anyways, what’s the part I have to do? feeling a little bad if I don’t help you out a little at least.” you sighed when you noticed the blood he swiped away continued to flow.

“come here.” he tilts his head at your words but still goes over to you.

you made him sit next to you and you took out some antiseptic from your bag. you had one because you usually volunteered at the orphanage and the kids there played quite rough.

“this might sting a little.” you told ni-ki. he sighs and just lets you do whatever it is. you wiped the blood with a wet tissue and then placed the antiseptic on the cut. ni-ki winces.

“while i am curious as to how you got this since it looks like you had a huge fight, I’ll keep my mouth shut.” you placed a bandage on the cut. “there it’s better now. here take this and wipe the other blood that’s dried up on your face.”

ni-ki thanked you quietly. he quickly wipes the blood that you had previously pointed at. “so which part am I supposed to do? also, didn’t the teacher say we have to do a romance novel?” he grimaces at the thought of having to read a romance novel. he was never a fan of romantic things. Sure, he liked cheesy things like matching clothes or matching items but he was too single for that (and still young).

“yeah, it’s some romance novel. from the synopsis, i can tell it’s really similar to ‘Twilight’.” you could hear ni-ki sighing.

“so some vampire romantic novel thing?”

“basically. have you watched ‘Twilight’?”

“no. i don’t have time for movies or series or dramas. i have a busy schedule.”

“sounds…boring but i understand if you have a job and it’s more important than watching a basic show.”

“i-” ni-ki sighs. “we can watch it. well, i can watch it on my own and then read the novel the teacher suggested us to read.”

“alright, we can split it and then summarise the novel with our own thoughts. makes it more sentimental.”

ni-ki nods, “uhh send me a link to the ‘Twilight’ story or something.”

“i don’t have your number.”

ni-ki holds his hand out and you gave him your phone. he quickly types in his number and sends a text.

“there, now i need to go. i have work.” ni-ki doesn’t even bother to wait until you uttered a word, he just leaves. you huffed and looked down at your laptop. maybe you should just stay and complete some work.

TWO

ni-ki entered the Decelis Resort and clicked on the elevator button to the top floor. he was met with his 6 other older friends. each of them huffing and sighing, it seems like they found out something.

“uh, what’s wrong?”

“this.” jungwon shows off the screen on their database. a warning which was basically telling jake about his brother. ni-ki tilts his head.

“isn’t your brother dead a long time ago, hyung?” ni-ki asks jake.

“yeah.” nabi says. her arms were wrapped around jake as she comforts him. right, he forgot they got together already and they aren’t blindly being stupid and not confessing to each other (read: please save ni-ki, he already witnessed two of his hyungs kissing their girlfriend/wife).

ni-ki scrunches his face at the affection that jake’s girlfriend was giving him. just as he looks to look over in the other direction, he witnesses heeseung giving his wife heart eyes. ni-ki has had enough of it, he rolls his eyes.

“why did you call me in, i had a project to do with my partner.” he says.

“oooo project with a partner, who is this partner. is it a girl~” sunghoon teases. ah, the ever so annoying thing sunghoon loved to do with ni-ki, tease him. sunghoon should be thankful that ni-ki could hold back his anger. or else, ni-ki would’ve initiated a war crime on him.

“none.” ni-ki simply says. he folds his arm.

“none what?” sunghoon tilts his head, slightly confused at the short answer.

“none of your business.” ni-ki fires back. sunghoon clenches his jaw and gets ready to swing when jay holds him back. sunghoon practically hisses like a cat as he scrambles to get out of jay’s grip.

“okay okay. calm down.” heeseung claps his hand to get their attention. “we called you back here because while jungwon and jake fix the database, you, sunghoon, jay and sunoo are going out to find the target.”

“old school style?” sunoo asks.

“yeah. since our database is fucked up right now.”

“so…how are we going to do that without the database?” sunghoon asks.

“stakeout. you guys should know what he looks like after i send the photo of him. sunoo and jay will be in charge of ground level. ni-ki and sunghoon take high ground.” heeseung explains.

“what about you, hyung?” jay says.

heeseung turns to look over at his wife and the older boys instantly knew. ni-ki was still clueless until he realised…

“OH MY GOD EWWWW. can’t you leave the baby making for another time? we are literally on a mission.” ni-ki fake gags.

“you guys are on a mission. i can stay back.” heeseung reasons.

“you can fight too, hyung??”

“yeah, no. I wanna stick with my wife, thank you very much.”

“whatever, let’s just start this mission. I’ll just take charge as usual.” jungwon says.

THREE

ni-ki and sunghoon stayed up above while jay and sunoo stuck below. each of them had their own disguises since they were going in old school style. even if it sounded ridiculous but at least nobody would know it’s them.

“you guys going in now?” sunghoon asks.

“yeah, me and sunoo are going in separately to avoid any suspicions.”

“jake hyung says that they are working on getting the app online. if we find the guy without the app then we just strike and kidnap.” sunoo says.

“hyungs, you two are the only ones who have eyes inside. let us know if you need more help, me and sunghoon hyung will come down and help you.” ni-ki says.

“mmm, will do. you guys watch out from upstairs if the client left the building.” jay says.

“got it.”

both ni-ki and sunghoon watched from above the building. what they didn’t expect was for someone to come up behind them and shove them off the side. ni-ki grabbed sunghoon and pushed him closer towards the side of the building’s wall so that sunghoon could catch himself. ni-ki grabs his grappling hook and throws it so sunghoon can catch it. Both of them were eventually ‘safe’ on the side of the building.

“shit, they’re onto us.” sunghoon curses. “you good, ni-ki?”

“yeah, sure. dangling about 656 ft above the ground is totally fine, hyung.” ni-ki sarcastically says. sunghoon rolls his eyes.

“i can just let go of the rope and let you fall, you know?”

“you wouldn’t, hyung. you love me too much in a brotherly way.” ni-ki says.

sunghoon sighs, “yeah whatever.”

“we should find a way back up. those assholes decided to shove us off.” ni-ki says.

“yeah, we should.”

-

sunghoon taps on his spy earpiece, “heads up guys, I think they’re onto to us. Me and ni-ki just got shoved off the rooftop.”

“so you guys are just dangling at the side of the building?” jay asks.

“yeah, we need to clear the way. sunoo, could you find a way to floor 76? we’re currently dangling beside one of those hotel rooms on that floor. i think someone is occupying this room though.” sunghoon says.

“don’t worry, i’m on my way right now. they don’t call me sneaky sunoo for no reason.”

“nobody calls you that, hyung.”

“shut up, ni-ki.”

“i’ll keep a look out for the mafia leader. he’s probably in the party they have in the small casino of the hotel.” jay says.

“alright, seems like this is the plan we have for now. we’ll meet up after sunoo saves us.” sunghoon adds.

“roger.”

-

the wind blew onto their hair, ni-ki sighs.

“is it too late to tell my project partner that i won’t be coming to school tomorrow.” ni-ki asks.

“you’re still worried about your project?! we’re dangling off the side of like one of the tallest skyscrapers right now and you’re worried about that?!” sunghoon says as he is bewildered by ni-ki’s words.

“well, i’m still a high school student. i don’t want to fail my classes.”

“when have you ever cared about school.” sunghoon deadpans. ni-ki was about to counter but ultimately shut his mouth.

“you’re right. i hate school.” ni-ki huffs.

“no no wait. we’re not stopping there, tell me why are you suddenly thinking about this? is this about your project partner? because this is my first time hearing you actually want to go to school.”

“no.” ni-ki simply replies.

“don’t just say ‘no’. there is something more to that. are you falling for your project partner?”

“you’re crazy, why would i fall for my project partner. i’m only a high school senior, i’m too young to be falling in love. i’d rather focus on our mission than her.”

“ah, so it’s a her.” sunghoon egged further. though ni-ki couldn’t see sunghoon face, he knew the older was smirking at him, seemingly amused that ni-ki was actually showing some slight unknown feelings.

“the teacher assigned us together, we’re forced to do it. it’s not like i wanted to do this project with her.”

“okay but is this girl at least cute to you?”

“hyung, can we not talk about this?”

“no no. we have time. there are at least 10 rooms on this floor, sunoo will take a long time. tell me if this girl is your type.”

“i am not telling you and also, i don’t have a type.” ni-ki grumbles.

“so, it’s a yes?”

“i’m just talking to her because i am forced to.”

“does she intrigue you in any way?”

“hyung-”

“yo, i am here to save the day.” sunoo opens up the window just enough so that sunghoon and ni-ki could slid through.

both sunghoon and ni-ki climbed through the window quietly.

“how did you get inside the room?” sunghoon whispers.

“simple, the room was occupied by some girls so i just used my sunoo charms and boom they let me in. i told them i’ll be back soon but i’m gonna bolt out of this room after grabbing you guys.”

“the girls don’t appeal to you?”

“oh no, they are just…how do i put this in a nicer term?” sunoo thinks for a split second, “they are way older than me, about 40 years old?”

“ayo?” ni-ki says.

“anyways, we need to get out of here chop chop. i was informed that the system and database is back so we don’t need to stakeout. we can just find and capture the guy with a simple call for backup.” sunoo says.

“great. now, let’s get out of here.”

sunghoon, sunoo and ni-ki snuck out of the hotel room and went to find jay. jay gestures for them to come closer and they went over to him.

he nudges his head to point where the guy stood, “our target is being surrounded by some other innocent people and his bodyguards. we need to find a way to bring them around and away from these people.”

“did you call for backup?” sunghoon asks.

“yeah, they are on the way now. they’ll just clean up whatever mess we’ve done.” jay explains.

-

“hey umm, guys.” jake says.

“what’s wrong?” sunghoon asks.

“we can see from the security cameras some bodyguards walking to the casino hall. jungwon had eavesdropped into their convo from their walkie talkie. it seems like they’re going to report about sunghoon and ni-ki.”

“shit, we really need to take them down. jay, how about you proceed with sunoo and play a round with our target while me and ni-ki take down those guards.”

“yeah, that works.” jay says.

“perfect, we’ll watch over the security cameras. we’ll report if there is anything else. jay, your men are about 10 minutes away from the location, they’ll come closer after the deal is done.” jake says.

“got it.”

-

“so? can we go now?” ni-ki asks.

“yeah, let’s go.” sunghoon says.

about 1 hour later, they managed to kick down their bodyguards with no suspicions from other bypassers. both ni-ki and sunghoon locked their unconscious bodies inside the bathroom stall and went to find jay and sunoo. jay flips the coin and it lands on heads, he smirks. he cracks his knuckles and neck.

“showtime.” he mutters.

chaos quickly ensues. everyone was running out of the casino, jay flips his gun and shoots. sunoo slides towards the entrance of the casino and allows all the innocent people out before cooly shutting the doors for all the bad guys. he puts his hands up once he turns around when the henchmen were holding up their guns at him.

“ehem, i suppose you guys have me cornered.” he innocently says. “i suggest you turn around though.” he smirks.

before the henchmen could even turn around, their necks were snapped and they fell to the ground. sunghoon and ni-ki managed to run in time just to help them fight off with jay’s men. ni-ki corners their target in one spot.

“hand over what we want and we’ll let you free.”

the guy laughs maniacally and ni-ki laughs along with him, “no.”

ni-ki stops laughing, “okay then.” with one simple shot, the guy falls to the ground, blood surrounding him. sunghoon winces.

“i can never get over this scene. you’re so brutal and direct with it like no hesitation. at least jay waits for the guy to say something.”

“we don’t wait for people like him and besides, what good is he going to bring us when all he has done is sell personal information, drugs and solicit women.” ni-ki says.

“ni-ki is right though.” jay shrugs. he turns to his men, “anyways, let’s clean this up before police get here. which should be in 15 minutes.”

-

“10 minutes.” jake corrects them.

“okay thanks.” jay says.

-

jay pats one of his men's backs, “there isn’t much people this time so it should be easier.”

“there are a few unconscious people in the bathroom. maybe we can use them and turn them into our men.” sunghoon suggests.

“good idea, you heard sunghoon.” jay says. jay’s men nod, they get to work and went to clean up everything while sunghoon, jay, sunoo and ni-ki went back to the Decelis Resort.

FOUR

ni-ki went to school the next day after not getting much sleep. he was barely awake during the whole class, almost dozing off. it’s not like the teachers cared anyways. well, except for you. you had whacked the table to get ni-ki to wake up. he groans and wakes up.

“nishimura, we need to finish up the last bit of the project.”

“do we have to? i’m tired.”

“yes, we do.”

he sighs, “fine but can we do it after school?”

“we have consultations with the teacher right now and we barely have any work done other than my part.” you told ni-ki.

ni-ki deadpans. “and? look, i barely got any sleep last night due to some things in my life and i want to sleep right now.”

ni-ki almost looked too pitiful, you could see the dark circles under his eyes. the way his eyes were slowly about to shut. the slow blinking. which made you feel bad and so you sighed.

“fine, just sleep. i’ll find a way to cover you from the teacher if he asks.” you say.

ni-ki tilts his head. he was surprised to even hear that you’d cover for him. it’s not like the teacher cared so why did you care? either ways, at least he could sleep so he lays his head onto the desk and falls asleep. you sighed and turned away from looking at him. you still had to do something with the project hence you just continued to work on it without him.

about 2 hours later, the class ends. something was off, really eerie. you had went to the bathroom because you know, you had some business to attend to. you were about to turn the corner to the classroom when all of a sudden, someone bumped into you. you apologise but something was weird about them. they didn’t look like a high school student so why were they here?

ni-ki spots this and so he runs over and grabs your wrist. he doesn’t even mention anything, just grabs your wrist and walks. it leaves you confused as to who that guy was. ni-ki turns the corner and stops.

“get to class,” he says.

“umm, who was that?”

“just get to class. i need to settle something. don’t leave and make sure everyone stays inside.” he warns.

“okay?” you say a little confused. ni-ki grabs your shoulder and turns you around before pushing you a little to direct you to go inside the class. he runs off after. you were still confused.

after school, you still hadn’t seen ni-ki and so you were a little worried. of course, any sane person would be worried for their classmate after they disappeared without a trace. which led to you looking for him. not a very smart idea but what could an 18 year old boy do? he may or not be strong enough to fight some people.

there was an alleyway behind the school. dark and scary. you had to pass by it every time you went home. maybe, they were hurting him behind there. it was possible. you had turned to the corner and ducked behind the wall. there ni-ki was with a foot on top of the guy, it seemed like he was on the phone with someone.

“hyung, can you get here quick? this guy called for some backup.” ni-ki sighs. “you want me to settle with possibly 10 more men coming over? wow, for once you aren’t doubting my skills? i’m surprised.”

“no seriously though, find out why they went to find me at my school. this place is filled with innocent people and it would not be great for them to be caught in the middle.”

“no, the guy is knocked out. may want to interview him or something. he seems like he knows some useful info.” he pauses. “i am not carrying him, i’ll look too suspicious and besides, i have a project to work on with my partner.”

your heart races as you hear his words. wait. that makes no sense, you can’t like ni-ki. you shook your head. it was probably just the adrenaline, there were other things that were more important. who was ni-ki calling and why did he sound like he was on some creepy team. what do they call those people.

“what? obviously! we’re the mafia!” ni-ki says.

ah, right. the mafia. that thought flies over your head until you kept repeating it, you froze. ni-ki was part of the mafia? that explains the cuts and bruises he constantly has. why he rarely gets any sleep. why the teacher does not care. he was part of the mafia and the teachers knew about it. this new found knowledge changes your whole perspective of ni-ki. he was not weird, he was in fact a dangerous person who was living a very wild life.

“okay, get here quick.” ni-ki says before ending the call. you had ran away from there. your legs were dragging you somewhere where you had to process everything and maybe get your mind off it. how do you continue working on your project knowing your partner was part of the mafia?

you had finally sat down in the school library. you were trying to comprehend everything. all you knew was that you can’t let anyone know about this and ni-ki can’t know that you know about him. what if you get hunted down? or what if ni-ki tries to hurt you? you could feel a cold shiver run down your spine, your life may be mundane but there was no way this was real. it felt surreal, this was real life and not a spy movie.

there were footsteps approaching you, a deep voice followed by it.

“hey, we still have to complete our project. we should get it done and over with. i have about.” he checks his watch. “30 minutes or so to spend.”

“we don’t have to do it. if you’re busy, we can just text.” you say. ni-ki tilts his head, he grabs the chair in front of you and sits.

“why do you look so scared to talk to me?” his eyes narrowed. you visibly gulped.

“what do you mean? why would i be scared to talk to you.”

ni-ki didn’t believe you, he leans forward. your breath hitches. his face up close, a strand of his brown hair falling right on his face. he once again tilts his head. “tell me.”

you felt the air being knocked out of you. you can’t look at him in the eyes. your face was heating up, this wasn’t good. “no. i’m really fine.”

ni-ki cocks his eyebrows and clicks his tongue, “then you should have time to do this project. we wasted too much time already.” he finally sits back in his seat, leaving you to able to breathe. his phone rings and rolls his eyes, he doesn’t pick it up.

“so what do we have so far?” ni-ki says.

30 minutes turned into 4 hours where you were working on the project with ni-ki. he cooperated really easily. he does the research and everything you ask him to do with ease.

“nishimura riki.” an unfamiliar voice says. you had looked up a guy with silver hair was standing there.

“hyung, what are you doing here?” ni-ki says not bothering to look behind him as he continues to work on the project.

“we called you hundreds of times and you’re here in the fucking library doing school work?”

“it’s a project. it’s due soon.”

“last i heard, it was due in a week.”

“and? me and my partner haven’t done much.”

“oh my god, this is the first time you’re acting like this. is it because you like her?” the silver haired guy points over at you. you blushed. ni-ki looks up at you and then behind him.

“no. sunghoon hyung, you always assume it’s something else.”

“yeah but you hate school.”

“i’ll go back in a bit. just leave.”

the man named sunghoon glares at ni-ki and then looks over at you.

“you have to be careful, remember. they watch our every move.” sunghoon warns.

“yes, i know hyung.”

“i’ll wait in the parking lot. finish this up because we have somewhere to be.” sunghoon says before he walks away. ni-ki sighs.

“is he your guardian?”

“one of them. my parents live abroad, i have 6 other ‘brothers’ who take care of me.” ni-ki nonchalantly says.

“oh.” you would’ve said more but you didn’t want to mention ni-ki's secret life. it was scary.

“i’ll just complete this last part and then we’re done. i believe that’s what we have to do for the project.” you hummed at his words.

ni-ki does as he said he would, finish up the last part and then packs his stuff. he gets up and pauses. “get home safe.” he says before quickly leaving. your heart races.

FIVE

2 weeks passed by quickly. it was just like any typical day at school, lessons for the day and then walking back home. you had walked past that dark creepy alleyway when suddenly, a few people had grabbed you. you were struggling in their grasp, fighting your way out of their arms. you kicked and bit their hands, finally they let go and so you did what was best, you had bolted away from them.

you grabbed your phone and dialed for ni-ki. the phone rings and rings as you ran but he wasn’t picking up. frustrated tears fell down your face. you hated feeling helpless, you weren’t strong enough and these people were fully grown adults. you needed help. out of nowhere, someone grabs your wrist. it was sunghoon, he pulls you over to one of the stores at the side of the road and then went through the staff room before going through the back door.

a van was waiting there. sunghoon opens the door and pushes you inside, he shuts the door and the driver starts driving away. you were panting heavily, you were also sure you’d get a bruise on your legs from being pushed into the van. ni-ki pulls you up so you could sit down properly. he places a jacket on your lap to cover your legs since you were wearing your school skirt. he also unintentionally brings your face closer so he could further inspect you for any bruises on your face.

“are you really sure you don’t have feelings for her?” sunghoon says. ni-ki rolls his eyes before dropping his hands to his side.

“can’t i just be concerned for a classmate who literally got chased by some bad guys? any normal person wouldn’t have to go through this if they didn’t interact with us.”

“yeah, whatever but there is something laced under your actions. what normal guy will hold her face like that? you look like you’re going to kiss her.” sunghoon mentions.

ni-ki’s face was stone cold, he definitely did not like that statement.

“do you really have to say that? I’m seriously just showing concern for a classmate.” ni-ki deadpans. you were staring in between both sunghoon and ni-ki, you didn’t even notice the other guys that were staring at you in confusion.

“so, what are going to do now? it seems like those guys think ni-ki has a love interest which means it’s only going to get worse from here on out.” a blond hair guy comments.

ni-ki sighs, “we need a way to distract them, i am sure her parents are going to be targeted next.”

“my parents…they umm aren’t present in my life…” it went dead silent.

“well, that’s good at least. we don’t have to worry about more people getting hurt-” sunghoon gets whacked by a guy with blond streaks in his hair.

“do you have any sense of awareness? she’s only 18 with no parents and you are thankful we don’t have extra people to get hurt??” the guy with blond streaks in his hair comments.

“it’s alright. i don’t exactly remember my parents much. i was really young.”

“so you’ve been living with your grandparents or something?” the guy blond hair adds.

“yeah. pretty much my whole life- hey, wait how did you know?” you had pointed out.

“idiots.” the guy with blond streak mutters under his breath. he holds out his hand for you to shake. “i’m jay. that idiot over there is jake.” he points to sunghoon, “the other idiot is sunghoon. i’m sorry for their stupidity. they clearly don’t know how to empathise with people.”

“it’s alright.”

“we’re here.”

“oh, right. that’s sunoo.” jay pats sunoo’s shoulder. sunoo playfully rolls his eyes before turning to look at you.

he gives you a smile, “nice to meet you, ni-ki’s girlfriend.”

his words fluster you, you didn’t expect to be addressed like that.

ni-ki shoves sunoo. “could you not call her that? she could be uncomfortable for all you know.”

“she isn’t saying anything or looking too disgusted so it is true. she’s your girlfriend.” sunoo shrugs. ni-ki rolls his eyes as he finds sunoo’s judgement of yours and his relationship to be something completely untrue. sunoo snickers before putting up a straight face.

“annoying fucks.” the one with the cat-like eyes sighs. he holds out his hand for you to shake and you took it. “i’m jungwon. the leader of this little…” he looks towards the others and then back at you, “boy group.” he says, dragging out the last part.

“BOY GROUP!?! we aren’t those pretty fuckers who dance and sing.” sunghoon rolls his eyes. “if anything, i’m stronger than them. they probably can’t lift up a gun if they wanted to. scaredy cats.”

“jeez, what’s gotten you so spicy with the topic of ‘boy groups’.” jay says.

“probably cause they get more bitches screaming their names than he ever has.” jake shrugs.

“damn.” heeseung adds.

sunghoon could only sit there and huff.

“okay, that’s enough.” jungwon pinches the bridge of his nose. “sunghoon, you know how to make plans last minute, what should we do?”

“can’t think of anything right now. all the plans i have in my head involve abandoning her.” sunghoon points to you. ni-ki smacks his hand.

“we can’t leave her.”

“and why?”

“because there could be other ways.”

“like what?” sunghoon folds his arms. “how about you suggest other ways, nishimura.”

all eyes were on ni-ki before he sighs, “since they already think, (name) is my girlfriend. we can take advantage of that and find a way to actually infiltrate their base or at least find out who is responsible for all of this.”

“so…you wanna fake date…her.” jay points to you.

“i-” ni-ki could feel his face heat up. “if you put it that way, sure. i guess.” he looks away so you and the other boys don’t notice the colour of his face change.

“i thought you were the one who said that you didn’t want to you call her your girlfriend? what happened to that?” sunoo deadpans.

“it’s just for the mission.”

“uh huh, the mission…ni-ki you like her don’t you?”

“no. i don’t, i just-” he groans. “i’m only 18, i have never fallen for anyone. why are you expecting me to know what feelings are?”

“he is definitely in love.” jake declares.

“uh, guys…i’m still here.” you say.

just as you opened your mouth to utter another word, the driver stops and announces that they had arrived their destination. you had zero clue where they had brought you to. however, the exterior of the place amazes you. it was huge, beautiful chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. there were greenery all over the place.

“welcome to our hotel.” jay says.

“woah. you guys built this place?”

“instructed and led the project. we obviously aren’t made to construct the place because that isn’t our job but yeah, for the most part.”

“it’s pretty.” your eyes trailed around the exterior and beauty of the decor. ni-ki stares at you, you truly looked pretty whenever your eyes twinkled at things you really liked looking at. a smile creeps up but he holds himself back. he couldn’t let anyone see him like this.

“anyways, here are the card to your room.” jay hands you a card. “since the mobsters seem to think ni-ki is your boyfriend, you won’t be able to get home.”

“right but what do i do? i don’t have any of my clothes and other stuff. most of my textbooks are still at home.”

“oh don’t worry about that. i’ll get some people to grab your stuff and we’ll clear it so that you can stay in this hotel safely with our men around.” jay smiles.

you turned to look at the other boys and they didn’t make a single face.

“i get to stay here for free? that’s not possible right? i mean, staying at this luxurious hotel for free doesn’t seem exactly right.”

“you’re right. there is a catch.” jay gets close. ni-ki nearly reaches out to stop him but he stops himself. “help us out.”

“oh, umm. look, i don’t know much about your little scheme. i just know these people you work with just do shady stuff.”

“you’re right, we do shady stuff but it’s not all legal. just…maybe illegal to a certain extent. after all, we do help good people. we don’t kill people unless they’re bad. which is why, you’re safest in our hands.” jay explains.

“alright. what do i have to do?” jay points to ni-ki as soon as you’re done speaking.

“be his girlfriend.” jay simply says.

“WHAT?”

“HYUNG!” ni-ki says. he could feel his ears heating up.

“don’t pretend i didn’t see how jealous you got when i got close to her. plus, it’s for a greater cause. we can use her and bait out those people and then find their boss.”

“but jay hyung.”

“do the others agree with me?” jay asks. the others nodded.

“sorry ni-ki, we just have to use this method. for some odd reason, they wanna use this ‘weakness’ of you having a girlfriend so we can take advantage of that and find out who is behind this.” jungwon says.

ni-ki’s eyes met with yours before he turn to the other boys, “fine but (name) has to also agree. this plan won’t work if she disagrees, i am not forcing her.”

“wow, the ever so gentleman.” sunghoon rolls his eyes. “(name), what do you say?”

you looked in between the boys and ni-ki. there was honestly no other choice, you were already roped into their life and it would only be harder for you if you just disagree. “yeah, i’ll do it. i’ll be…ni-ki’s girlfriend.” you could feel the heat rush to your cheeks as quickly as possible after those words left your mouth.

“ayyy.” jake smacks ni-ki. “ni-ki’s first girlfriend. now lead her to her room, she doesn’t know the place as great as you.” he shoves ni-ki to you.

“you guys know the place as well as me, why do i have to do it?”

“because she’s your girlfriend now, so be a gentleman and do it. besides, you’ll get jealous if we send her to her room.” jake continues to tease ni-ki.

“very funny. i am not jealous.” ni-ki deadpans.

“yeah and i’m ugly.” jake says.

“you are.” ni-ki yells as he grabs your hand and brings you over to the elevator. you could hear jake yelling a string of curses to ni-ki but he only ignores it. he taps the card on the elevator and clicks on the floor. the elevator closes and you were now in a confined space with just ni-ki.

“we have to make our relationship believable to those bad guys.” he turns to meet your eyes. “any suggestions?”

“uh, why are you asking me? I don’t know anything about dating.”

“considering we worked together during the past project, I think you should know more about love than I do. you did finish your part quicker than me.” ni-ki explains.

“yeah but that doesn’t mean I know much about datin-”

“romance is part of dating so, you should know.”

“well, too bad I don’t.” you say. ni-ki sighs.

“fine, I guess I have to follow my hyungs method.” ni-ki walks closer to you and you can’t help but step back. he corners you in the elevator. “we have to make it believable so you better play your role well or else, we won’t be able to get information we need.”

you meekly nodded. ni-ki was towering over you and it couldn’t help but feel small and helpless. after all, who's to say ni-ki couldn’t just i don’t know take out a knife and stab you. then leave you dead in the elevator. finally, the elevator reaches the floor. ni-ki steps back and grabs onto your hand. he easily interlaces it and drags you over to your hotel room.

it was one of the executive lounges so there were only 2 per floor. Hence, ni-ki was assigned to the room that was nearby yours. he stops in front of the large double door.

“this is your room and since you have no clothes. I’ll just lend you some of mine until the hyungs grab your stuff from your house.” he points to the other door on the other side of the hallway. “that is my room. considering I stay here most of the times, that room is off-limits to other people from booking it. if you need anything, just go over. for now, go in and just rest up. i’ll bring my clothes to you so you change into them and not wear our school uniform.”

you nodded. ni-ki hands you the card to your room and he keeps the other card so he could go in easily and possibly protect you if anything happens. he quickly goes to his room to grab a shirt and sweatpants before coming back and handing them to you.

“we have some ball, party thing tomorrow night and so you’ll be going as my plus one. there are a bunch of big media people going there to create a publicity stunt. it will make this whole thing even more believable since you’re with me.”

“okay, what am i supposed to do in the day though.”

“as it’s the weekends, you can just stay here or around the hotel until the party. there is room service just make your order, you won’t need to pay for it.”

“oh-” you hesitated, “but like isn’t it too much…this hotel is fancy looking and high-end…i am sure the food is expensive too.”

he leans down to your height, “it’s free since you are my girlfriend. the staff at the front desk know you’re my girl. you don’t have to worry.”

you felt your face heat up. his girl. a sentence you thought you’d never hear ni-ki say to you. it almost sounded too real, however you knew this wasn’t real. you were only a victim and ni-ki was your protector.

“r-right, it’s late. have a goodnight!” you quickly swiped the card and bolted into your room. leaving the door to shut quite hard. ni-ki snickers.

‘how cute’ he thought. he catches himself and so he shakes off the thought. it was only for a little while, he can’t fall for you. after all, he was a dangerous guy. it would put your life at risk if there was ever anything going on between you and him. that thought kinda made him sad, he frowns before turning around and walking over to his own room.

SIX

at around, 6pm someone comes knocking at your door. you went to peek through the peephole and realised that it was just a hotel staff. you opened the door and they entered with a rack of clothing and a present.

“these are the clothes that Mr.Nishimura hand picked for you.” the staff points to the rack. they hand you the present. “Mr.Nishimura also prepared this for you and told you to wear it for tonight. We will have a makeup artist coming soon to help with the makeup and hair.”

you nodded and the staff left the room. you had opened up the box and pulled out the dress from inside. it falls down perfectly as you hold it up, a beautiful long black dress with ruffles that cuffs around your arm until it reaches just below your shoulder. it was beautiful and it was also paired with a masquerade mask to hide your identity at the ball. the makeup and hairstylist arrives and quickly does your hair and makeup. just as they spun you around to let you look at yourself in the mirror, you were in shock. that was not you. they had tied your hair up in a half up and half down, along with curling the ends in loose curls and even making your curtain bangs look nice.

the doorbell rings, the staff letting ni-ki in. he walks over to you and he pauses in his step when he sees you. you looked beautiful. his heart races, was this love? the boy was completely speechless.

“umm, how do i look?” you had asked ni-ki. his eyes scanned you from head to toe and you blushed under his gaze.

“beautiful. you look beautiful.” he mutters. “let’s go. the older guys are waiting for us. they’re also looking out for the bad guys. security is tight today so you don’t have to worry about getting harmed.”

you nod. “that’s good.” ni-ki holds out his hand for you to take and you do so. he intertwines your hand with his and brings you over to the ball.

just as you entered, cameras start flashing. most likely capturing every part of yours and ni-ki’s arrival because it was it big thing. another member of the Decelis Boys was taken. there were whispers, mumbles and gossips all over the ballroom but ni-ki paid no attention to it as you leads you to where the other boys were.

“nice, the media is going crazy ni-ki. you’ve done it.” jake says.

“now, they’ll probably attack later on so make sure to bring (name) somewhere safe.” jay adds. ni-ki nods.

“you can enjoy your little couple time now. just keep a watch out.” sunoo teases.

“hyung.” ni-ki says. sunoo laughs, he pats ni-ki’s back and the other went their separate way as they split up to cover the ballroom. ni-ki turns to you, “want something to eat? or drink?”

“umm, is there only wine here?”

“i suppose so. hmm, maybe we can eat some nacho chips. i’ll request the waiters to prepare some for us and of course some plain water.” you nod at ni-ki’s words. “I’ll be back in a short while. you’re okay with being alone for a bit right? i need to find the waiter.”

“i don’t mind.”

“that’s good. wait here.” you hummed once more at his words.

right as ni-ki left, someone comes up to you and strikes a conversation. it felt off though, definitely not right like something was about to happen. the guy smirks and hands you a drink that he apparently grabbed from the waiter that had passed by previously. you shook your head and politely rejected it since it was wine and you were still technically a minor here in Korea.

the rejection doesn’t sit well with this guy, he frowns and shoves the glass into your hands and tells you to drink it. thankfully, ni-ki came back on time and shoves the guy away.

“what are you doing to my girlfriend?” ni-ki’s deep voice resonates. the guy wasn’t fazed by it and so ni-ki grabs the glass in your hands before splashing it on the guy’s face. he turns to you and whispers, “run. get to the elevator and click on the penthouse button.” he hands you a card.

you do as he says and left the ballroom. ni-ki taps the bracelet on his wrist. it sends notifications to the other boys. jake and heeseung’s significant other quickly left the place too. jungwon smacks the button on the wall for emergencies. a siren blasts the whole room and it sends everyone in a frenzy. everyone except for the bad guys, ran towards the exit. they stayed and took out their guns, aiming at the boys.

jay and sunoo pulled out their guns and so the battle begins. the bad guys ran towards each of them, but the two boys ducked and shot twice without looking back. jay eyebrows furrowed, this certainly wasn’t going to be a simple fight like back at the hotel.

“they’re stronger now, it seems like whoever is behind this has finally start to slowly show their power and skills.” jay says. sunoo looks down at the weapons and outfit that the guys they shot wore.

“this person is definitely smart.”

“but not smart enough.”

“he could be toying with us, hyung. we need to watch out.” just as sunoo says so, someone tries to attack him. ni-ki slashes his katana right on the guy’s back, saving sunoo and jay. the body falls right beside them.

“i think they’re going to get up to the penthouse. me, sunghoon and jake are going up there. jay hyung, we need more people to get up here.”

“on it. i’ll get some backup.” jay runs off. sunoo nods at ni-ki before he goes to shoot more people. sunghoon, jake and ni-ki went up to the penthouse by a different and secret entrance. once they arrived, it was eerily quiet.

“this definitely does not feel right.” sunghoon says. suddenly, a loud shriek was heard. the 3 of them ran over, only to see you, nabi and eun crouched on the ground with 3 guys cornering the 3 of you.

you had made eye contact with ni-ki, fear evident in your eyes and it makes ni-ki mad. something switched inside him and all that was left was anger. the red vision covering his eyes. he spins his 2 katanas and charges forward easily slashing two of the people. the last guy tries to fight him but couldn’t as ni-ki easily stabs the guy right in the middle. the guy falls to the ground. jake and sunghoon the whole thing with their jaw dropped.

ni-ki turns back to them, the blood right all over his shirt and some on his face.

“guard the elevators and get more people here. check up with the others downstairs. we may need to move. they found our little hiding spot here. i’ll move the girls to the garage since they have no idea where it is.”

with not a single word uttered, jake and sunghoon quickly left. they’ve never seen this side of ni-ki before and honestly, it scared them quite a bit. after they left, ni-ki checks up on you. his eyes softened.

“are you okay?” he asks.

“yeah, just startled. i didn’t expect this to happen. i thought, i was going to die.” ni-ki pulls you into a hug.

“don’t worry, you have me. i’ll protect you…always.”

it was quite a romantic moment, even nabi and eun were shocked to hear this come out from ni-ki. they didn’t expect him to be so kind-hearted towards a girl. after pulling back from the hug, “we should get going.we don’t have much time before they send more people up here.”

ni-ki leads you, nabi and eun to the secret elevator which led to the garage. it was definitely safer around here and there even was backup. there was a loud slam to the door after the rest of the boys poured in. jake and heeseung ran up to their significant other and hugged them. there were small whispers of sorry’s amongst the both of them as they tried to calm down their girls.

“well, this resort is fucked. we have to move somewhere else.” jay says.

“we could move to this resort near the airport. whoever is charge most probably won’t know that we own it.” sunoo suggests.

“we should move there. if don’t move there now, the innocent people staying here will be hurt.” heeseung adds.

“that means we need to divert the attention of the reporters right now.”

“but what could we possibly use to divert their attention from?”

“i think we could use a distraction of love. like ni-ki and (name).” nabi says.

“but everyone already knows (name) is my girlfriend.”

“oh, no hesitation-” jay whacks sunghoon.

ni-ki wraps his arm around your waist, “yeah, no hesitation because she is my girlfriend.”

“holy shit.” jungwon’s jaw drops.

“i’ll give the reporters some scoop about mine and (name)’s relationship details.” ni-ki says.

“but we- aren’t we fake dating?” you looked up at him.

“not anymore.” he simply says.

you could feel your face warm up at ni-ki’s words.

“i’ll tell them that you’re mine and i like you a lot.” ni-ki says.

“damn, ni-ki with the rizz?” jake says.

jake and jungwon gets notified of the police cars and reporters driving to the resort.

“you have to get ready quickly, ni-ki change your clothes and then we need to delete their memories of the fight that happen and organise the place quickly. hurry!”

all of them had quickly done their parts. with one large bright flash of light in the resort, everyone forgets the fight that happened. jay’s men quickly cleans up the place and pretends to escort the affluent towards the hall as if nothing happened before. the place was lively again.

when the police and reporters arrived, it was strange. someone filed a report that there had been a gang trying to tear Decelis Resort apart but the police didn’t see anyone fleeing in terror. they tried to look for the very person who filed the report but when they did, the person seemed confused and didn’t know what they were talking about. they simply just brushed it off and left. of course, the reporters were more nosy then the police they had to figure out what was going on.

that is exactly when ni-ki and you walked towards them, giving them free information about your newfound relationship. the reporters left happily as they could use this huge scoop for their headlines. just as ni-ki got ready to leave with you to meet up with the others. someone taps his shoulder and hands him something.

“this fell out from somewhere i think that waiter over there dropped it. you should really discipline your staff from throwing litter on the ground.”

it was a strange object, something a waiter should not be harbouring.

“thank you for the feedback but mind your language when you’re speaking to one of the founders and this resort.” ni-ki’s tone was laced with venom. the guy nods.

he carefully makes his way to the garage again and hands the item to jake. it cracks open the moment jake touches it.

‘kinda pathetic to wipe their memories don’t you think? it’s a one in a lifetime for those elites to experience such a scare. they should think twice when pushing around people who aren’t rich.’ - a voice recorded message.

“whoever this is definitely doesn’t like rich people.”

“and they used a voice modulator. it’s not their voice. we should run a test at the other resort.” jungwon says.

“yeah, whoever this is…we have to find them. our families are in danger.” sunghoon says.

ni-ki turns to look at you, “are you coming with us?”

“of course, i have to but you have to teach me how to fight. i want to help you guys out. this person will probably take more precautions now.” ni-ki holds your hand and squeezes it.

“that means we will have to miss some of school.”

“is school really our priorities right now when we are being chased by some evil dude?”

“she makes it a point there.” jungwon says.

“alright, we’ll be a team. my girlfriend.” ni-ki shyly says.

this emits groans from the rest of them with how cheesy it was.

“we will, boyfriend.” you could only smile up at him.

taglist[open]: @my5colors @wtfhyuck @nyfwyeonjun @thealatte @dimplewonie @nuttykittypainter @tya0 @strvlveera @slayjw @iea-tsand @yannew @jrjr289 @angelhuukookie @babyy-bambii @raven

(want to be added into the taglist? just send an ask or fill up this short form here!)

[koolades-world]

More Obey me! Headcannons

had so much fun last time I wanted to do it again

Satan is so smart, but has issues doing basic math and refuses to admit it, like he can’t figure out fifteen plus seven without his fingers or a calculator (is this me projecting? maybe)

Belphie bought himself and Mc matching house slippers. Mc thought Beel felt left out and made Belphie buy a pair for him too

Beel has a huge green thumb, and takes upon himself to save plants he thinks are sad or lonely. He buys the dying plants from the store to bring back to life (partially inspired by the chat where someone, forgot who, told beel that if he talked to plants they would grow faster my precious baby)

Lucifer is the best cook at the HoL, but rarely has time to cook. Beel is the second best but usually eats the ingredients before he can make anything with them. Mammon is probably the worst because Levi can make food from animes almost perfectly

Asmo once almost set a store he was collaborating with on fire with his rage alone because they spelt his name wrong

Beel probably needs a new toothbrush every couple weeks. Belphie probably gets toothbrushes mixed up and uses ones that aren’t his

Lucifer and Solomon like prune juice haha old men

The one thing Luke and Simeon have seriously disagreed on is if raisins belong in dessert. Michael likes them, so Luke does too. Simeon thinks they’re awful but never directly says it, so Lucifer usually says it for him

Despite always being online, Levi had not once checked his RAD email. He has 9,999+ emails, probably a lot more because 9,999 is where it stops counting

Mammon collects cool rocks and keeps them in a box under his bed

Satan’s hands are always freezing, so he sticks them under Mc (or a cat) when possible, or uses a charmed hot water bottle from Solomon that stays warm for days at a time

Solomon and Asmo have had matching bracelet sets for as long as they’ve known each other, and since they didn’t make them anymore, they got some custom done for Mc so they could also have them

For about 1,000 years, Thirteen though jelly beans were an actual kind of bean and Solomon never let her let it go

The first food Mc and Mammon ate on a date in the human world together was Taiyaki, so he made it a point to learn how to make them to surprise Mc (even though he’s a terrible cook) (I might make this a fic since I like this idea so much)

Diavolo has always wanted a Devildom version of a hamster but Barbatos refused to have any kind of rodent in the castle, rat or not

Luke probably downloads those stupid app games with the ads unironically

Satan’s favorite Disney Princess is Ariel because she ran off to do what she wanted without caring what her father thought, it’s giving daddy issues. He’s probably considered running off and marrying Mephisto to make Lucifer angry

Raphael unironically enjoys off brand chips and soda

Lucifer is a nail biter, and Asmo is helping him curve the habit by putting a nasty tasting top coat when he does his nails, and it’s also why he wears gloves all the time.

Belphie and Satan once went up to the humans world together to mess with people in Salem, Massachusetts with magic, which spawned several conspiracy theory books. They read them together and laugh as a past time

Diavolo once went to the human world in his demon form for,, reasons, and accidentally got written into ancient mythology because he got spotted by humans

Barbatos had a home garden for cooking and sometimes lets Asmo have leaves from some of the plants to make homemade skin care products

Mammon probably has lots of earwax. Don’t share your earbuds with him unless you make him clean them afterwards

Belphie has a really large water bottle that’s always on his side table. He wakes up randomly though the night, chugs an ungodly amount of water and then passed out again. In the mornings he has to piss really bad but is too lazy to get up and actually do it, so he just sits and complains. Even Beel isn’t sure how he’s able to drink that much water in a short amount of time

Satan likes waking up early to enjoy the morning air and read outside for a while since mornings can get hectic with his brothers

Thirteen’s favorite torture device is the Iron Maiden. She had her own that she bedazzled. Even Asmo is jealous and wants her to make him one too

Mammon introduced Diavolo to Gatorade, and instead of sneaking behind Lucifer and Barbatos’s backs to drink Demonus, they have secret Gatorade meetings

Diavolo and Lucifer definitely both had a hidden Dialuci stash of things and probably clash trying to collect limited edition things online

None of the Obey me cast took birthdays or passing of years seriously until Mc entered the picture and suddenly time was precious, and they actually kept track. Because of this, nobody is really sure how old the twins are

Mephisto thinks roosters want world domination

Asmo thinks cilantro tastes like soap and Levi thinks anything cola flavored tastes like cough medicine

Mammon's favorite party trick is one Mc taught him, which is rolling his tongue Everyone he meets, including his brothers, thinks it's so cool when really it's just a genetic thing

[your-nanas-house]

Just a... thong

◇ Pairing: Dad's Best Friend!Cillian Murphy X Bff's daughter!Reader

◇ Warnings: mention of masturbation, age gap (all off age, Cill is in his 40s, Y/n 20s), pervert Cilly, laundry, dad's best friend, cramps

◇ Summary: Cillian decides to take care of the laundry and finds his best friend's daughter's thong.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Another piece of the "AU/series" of Dad's Friend. Thank you @drcranessweetestdoe to encourage me to write smt. It's bit shitty but I hope it will "satiate" you a little. 🤭

It had been several weeks since Y/n, his best friend's daughter, had come to stay with Cillian for the summer holidays.

He had rearranged a bit of the usual routine that the man had made his, now that he was in his 40s and considered himself too old for several things.

However, he had adapted quite well, thanks to the collaboration of the young woman who also did not want to cause any disturbance to him and therefore followed his schedule a bit.

They had established little silent rules, such as the times of breakfast and meals in general, who cooked and when. They had also decided without talking about it that they would do the dirty laundry individually even though she was the one in charge of running the washing machine and making sure of the little details like which clothes could go together and which couldn't.

Usually Y/n took care of the sorting too, before Cillian could do anything, so it was the first time for the man to take care of that task.

The young woman was busy on a call with her family and the Irishman didn't have much to do, so when he passed by the room where the washing machine had finished he approached it, deciding to do it himself to take away a task from her seeing how well he was taking care of all the things he had asked her to do in exchange to make her stay under his roof.

His baby blue eyes scanned the object, taking in the different buttons before making sure it was actually done.

When he was sure of it he opened it, rushing to get the basket to put all the wet clothes in there and then go and hang them outside since the weather permitted.

They were mostly his things and a few things from Y/n, just clothes he had seen on her the previous days, some sports tops and... a lacy piece.

A lacy... A lacy piece of clothing, Cillian repeated to himself before his eyes snapped quickly back to the undergarments he was holding in his hand. His breath catching in his throat as his mouth dried, his heart started to beat faster, drumming against his chest at the realization.

A thong.. it's just a thong, Cillian, get yourself together, he thought, scolding himself, as his eyes snapped towards the door and back to the fabric when he was sure that he was still alone.

Her underwear was soft under his fingertips, smooth and silky except the lacy part that decorated it in an innocent but provocative way.

There was little fabric... he really wondered why she worn something like that since it covered barely her cunt, exposing probably fully her round ass cheeks.

"Fuck" the older man murmured under his breath, his breath becoming heavier as his mind wandered, imagine his best friend's daughter wearing something like that... just that, her body completely bare, her breasts on full display as the thong hugged her hips, teasing him with its little see not see game.

His body reacted pretty quickly and he was hard.. again.

It had been happening quite frequently since she entered his life in a daily basis. He really felt like a pathetic teenager by the way his body acted at the mere display of a bit of her skin.

Cillian bite his lip, taking a deep breath as he stroked the fabric in his hand for a couple of seconds, groaning softly at the feeling while his other hand moved slowly to his boner which was quite noticeable because of the sweatpants he had choose to wear that morning. His thick fingers slowly brushed his clothed hard lenght, before palming it... his bottom lip caged by his white teeth as his mind started to play different scenarios.

"Fuck" he cursed lowly, moving his hand again to pull out his cock irrationally, following the wind of his carnal desire with no shame, too blinded by lust.

"Is everything okay? Is it your back again?.. I heard you curse" Y/n's sweet voice interrupted him, making his blood run cold and move quickly up.. stretching his muscles in the wrong way.

He really was too old for this kind of things, he thought dramatically while cursing softly.

A shock of pain hit him, making him lean against the washing machine in an attempt to regain himself.

Karma.. just Karma, Cillian repeated in his head while inhaling deeply, now feeling pretty much self-conscious about his actions. Luckily she didn't look like she had noticed the perverse actions he was about to comply.

Her look was one of worry and not disgust, even when she moved quickly closer to make sure he was alright and help him sit on the sofa to relax a moment while she continued the task, not noticing the piece of clothing that was missing since he didn't have the opportunity or the time to throw it back in the basket before she took it to another room, warning him that she was coming back to check on him and his back.

[eldritch-thrumming]

i’m so in love that i might stop breathing.

i want to brainwash you into loving me forever, i want to transport you to somewhere the culture’s clever, confess my truth in swooping, sloping, cursive letters.

Eddie Munson is signed to a big-name label, one that monitors every move their artists make. The label practically runs half of LA, with so many artists under contract that Eddie’s not really sure how they can even keep track, let alone micro-manage every single one of them. But somehow they do it.

Eddie’s in the hard rock and metal division. Very rarely does he have to cross paths with artists outside of his genre. It’s not really an issue. It’s not like he’s going to collaborate with some bubblegum pink pop princess.

But then the label decides that they need to cross-market some of their artists. They’ve got lots of big names and Eddie’s on tour for his fourth studio album. He’s established, already done a world tour that was so successful the label had wanted to send him back out almost immediately, but he’d pushed back, asking for some time to write. So it’s been two years, but he’s written some of his best songs to date and the arenas are selling out.

Eddie’s so successful that the label decides that they’re going to pair him with some new up-and-coming singer-songwriter duo. The label wants at least one song, but hopes are high that Eddie will take them out as an opener for the last leg of the tour. Eddie’s given their EP a listen; he can’t really imagine that his demographic will ever overlap with theirs, but if this it what the label wants, then who is he to deny them?

It’s a sunny afternoon in LA when Eddie meets Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley at his favorite coffee shop downtown. It’s a safe place for celebrities, with a hidden back entrance and tinted windows, so he’s fairly certain they won’t be caught out together. Eddie’s ordered some lavender honey oat milk latte, something he would never admit to liking in a million years, but it tastes so good he makes the trip here at least three times a week. He’s sitting in a secluded corner, far enough from the windows that he won’t feel nervous, and he’s still got his sunglasses on, just in case.

He spots Robin and Steve almost immediately. They’re hard to miss, both beautiful and sun-kissed, smiling wide as they bicker before they both stop to look around the space.

“Hi!” Robin exclaims when she spots him, rushing over to his table. She grabs his hand between both of hers before he’s even had the chance to offer it to her and pumps it up and down a few times, like they’re shaking hands.

“Rob,” Steve mutters, placing a hand on her shoulder. Then, he turns his blinding smile on Eddie. Eddie had never believed in that whole ‘heart skipping a beat’ thing before but… he feels something happening in that region. “Sorry about her, she’s, like, a huge fan.” He offers his own hand to Eddie and they shake, the brush of skin on skin leaving Eddie just a little breathless, before Steve pulls out a chair and drops into it.

“Ugh, don’t make me sound like some creepy stalker, dingus.” Robin puts her hand on her hips. “What do you want?”

“Uh,” Steve squints at the menu before glancing down at the cup Eddie’s got between his hands. “What’d you get?” He directs the question at Eddie. Eddie tells him, only a little sheepish about it, and Steve smiles again. Eddie’s skin starts to feel itchy, too tight at his collarbones. “That sounds good. I’ll have that,” he tells Robin and she turns to head toward the counter, mumbling about having to order girly drinks.

Once they’re alone, Eddie slides his sunglasses off his face and up into his hair. He clears his throat before looking up into Steve’s face. Their eyes meet and something… happens. Something electric, something pulled taut between them. Eddie feels it and he’s pretty sure Steve does, too, judging by the way his lips part and his tongue darts out to wet them, quick and nervous. Eddie can’t stop staring. Neither can Steve.

Robin comes back with her hands full and glances between them. “Everything alright?” She asks slowly, cautiously, and their gazes finally snap away from each other, a blush rising in Steve’s cheeks.

Steve looks back into Eddie’s eyes like he just can’t help himself. Like he wouldn’t want to look anywhere else. “Yeah,” he says smiling. “Everything’s great.”

~*~

Eddie agrees to take them out on tour with him. The minute he saw Steve Harrington in the flesh, he knew he’d be taking them, but Robin turns out to be pretty cool too. He warns them that his fans can be pretty intense, that he can’t imagine they’ll be all that pleased with the kind of music the duo plays, but Robin and Steve assure him that they’re really just looking for some tour experience more than anything else. They’ll figure out the songwriting on the road, collaborate in a way that will bridge the gap between their style and Eddie’s.

When he gets home later that night, after a detour back to the label’s offices, Eddie can’t help but insta-stalk. He looks up Robin’s page first, upholding the pretense of ‘market research’ even in the privacy of his own mind. Most of her pictures include Steve and so it’s easy to be led away to Steve’s profile. It’s a natural progression. Totally normal.

Steve is… extremely cute. That’s usually not a word that Eddie would apply to someone he’s interested in—he tends to prefer the leather and chains variety much more than the sugary sweet type—but for some reason Eddie’s left breathless this time. He scrolls down Steve’s page, sees a picture of him with a herd of kids climbing on his back, another of him and Robin in matching sailor costumes. He hits the follow button without giving it too much thought and then slides back to his own page. Eddie is notoriously private, Instagram page consisting of only professional and promotional shots of him on tour with his band or in the studio recording. It’s not that Eddie is hiding anything, but he knows enough to know that the more you open up, the more that can be taken from you. He knows enough to know that the metal community can be somewhat closed-minded about some things, so he prefers to hide his personal life away, to keep some things precious and secret.

He wonders what Steve would think of his page, if he were to scroll through it. He wonders what it would be like to be open and honest about his personal life, about loving someone. What it would be like to not have to worry about losing fans, losing sales, losing bookings. To not worry about what the public would think of him.

He sighs and places his phone face down on his bedside table before turning out the light and drifting off to sleep.

~*~

Steve and Robin have been on tour with Eddie for two months and Eddie is almost positive that he’s falling in love with Steve. It was one thing to listen to Steve sing on their EP. It’s something totally different to watch Steve perform, to see his fingers slide up and down his guitar, the notes and his voice melancholy sweet. Eddie thinks almost anyone would fall in love with Steve if they’d just pay attention.

They haven’t done anything. Nothing has happened. But the green rooms and the tour busses have been full of lingering looks and soft brushes of skin. He’s pretty sure that Robin is close to saying something, clearly irritated by their pining. But Eddie’s still unsure. He knows it’s a lot, being on tour and in close quarters for the first time. It’s complicated and he doesn’t want to jeopardize Steve’s first big break. He doesn’t want to distract him. It’s easy to get caught up on tour, to mistake proximity for real feelings. It had happened to Eddie before; he didn’t want it to happen to Steve now.

Because this is a big deal, for Robin and Steve. Eddie had been unsure about taking them on, but, surprisingly, Eddie’s fans had embraced the duo. Their songwriting methods had complimented each other in a way Eddie hasn’t experienced since he first started writing with Gareth and the three of them had written five songs together already. Eddie would pull them both onstage halfway through his set to perform at least two of them and then again for one during the encore. The crowd went wild every time.

It’s the last night of tour when the space between them finally snaps in two. It’s the encore, they’re playing Eddie’s favorite of the five songs they’ve written together. They’ve made it through the complicated bridge, the final chorus, and now they’re closing out the last verse. The energy between Steve and Eddie practically crackles, almost visible under the harsh arena lights. Adrenaline is pumping, making Eddie feel invincible, and he can tell that Steve feels it too by the way he smiles across the stage at him. The final notes ring out and Eddie can’t help himself. He grabs for the strap of Steve’s guitar and pulls. Steve falls into Eddie’s chest, laughing, eyebrows raised, and Eddie can’t even think. His lips crash into Steve’s and it’s magical. Better than Eddie ever even dreamed it would be.

There’s a roaring in his ears as Eddie pulls back, reluctant. Steve’s eyes are still closed and he tries to follow Eddie’s mouth with his own, but Eddie laughs and gives him a little shake. Eddie glances around and realizes that the roaring he’d heard was the crowd going absolutely wild, screaming and cheering and clapping. Eddie looks back at Steve, who’s looking just a little dazed, blush on his cheeks and dopey smile on his lips. Robin’s screaming into her microphone, jumping up and down, egging the crowd on. Steve looks around the arena, still smiling, before looking back at Eddie and mouthing something in his direction. It’s too loud, Eddie can’t hear him over the crowd, so he shakes his head just a little. Steve tries again but Eddie still can’t hear him, so he raises his microphone to his lips.

“Finally,” Steve practically shouts, voice ringing out across the cavernous space. “Thought you’d never take the hint.”

All Eddie can do is laugh and pull Steve in for another kiss as the crowd continues cheering.

@grtwdsmwhr gave me “i want to brainwash you into loving me forever” and this is what I came up with i guess

[drarry-mini-bang]

Fest rules

What is this fest about?

Drarry Mini Bang is a collaborative fest in which writers and artists come together to create fanwork. The writers will submit their detailed concept for a fic, and artists will claim one or several (up to you!) to create an art piece.

Who can participate?

You must be at least 18 years old at time of signing up.

We also expect you to treat everyone taking part, including the mods, with respect. 

All work must be your own, and we do not allow any kind of fic or art produced with AI.

You may register as both a writer and an artist, but due to the collaborative nature of this event, you cannot make art for your own fic. All the matching will be done through the claiming process, therefore we will not allow pre-made collabs between artists and writers.

What are the requirements for writers? 

Writers will need to write an original fic of at least 10k.

The fic needs to be a stand-alone, unpublished fic. You will be asked to submit your fic concept with an estimated word count, a list of tags and possible warnings/triggers and the rating of your fic. If any of these details change after you’ve submitted your concept and before preview day, you need to let the mods know asap. If something changes after the teams have been announced, please talk to your partner and let the mods know if there are any issues.

Please do not share details of your fic before you are matched with an artist. You can share small snippets and talk about your story after the teams have been formed.

Your fic must be complete and has to be beta read before the submission deadline. Should you need an extension, please let us know as soon as you can.

When you fill in your sign up form, you will be given a chance to decide what type of art you would like to receive for your story.

We will cap writers at 25 participants, but we will open sign ups for pinch hitters. We will try our best to find everyone an artist to work with, but due to the collaborative nature of this event, should we not have enough artists, the people whose fics have not been picked might have to be dropped.

What are the requirements for artists?

You can create a variety of original fan work based on the story your writer is working on:

- illustrations, both digital and traditional (they don’t need to be in colour) 

- moodboards (at least 6 elements)

- plastic arts (including embroidery and origami)

- playlists (a minimum of 10 songs)

- fic binding

- podfic

We will ask you to create a minimum of one art piece based on the story your writer is working on. If you would like to work with more than one writer (which would make us extremely happy), please let us know in your sign-up form.

There is no cap for artists.

What kind of rating is allowed?

Any rating is allowed for both art and fics, but please tag your work appropriately. 

We support SALS (ship and let ship) YKINMKBYKIO (your kink is not my kink, but your kink is okay) and DLDR (don’t like – don’t read), so we will not tolerate any shaming. 

For this fest, we will not accept any works that contain darker themes or tropes that are usually covered by the "Dead Dove" tag. If you have any doubts about specific content and would like to know if it will be accepted, please do not hesitate to contact us.

If your work is rated Mature or Explicit, the characters involved must be at least 18 years old (Hogwarts 8th year fic are therefore acceptable with any rating).

What is the schedule for posting?

Sign ups open for writers and artists: 20th January

Sign ups close: 18th February

Deadline for fic concepts and details to be submitted by writers: 18th February

Fic concepts sent to artists: 24th February

Artists claim: 27th February

Teams announced: 2nd-6th March 

First check-in: 6th April

Second check-in: 11th May

Last check-in: 8th June 

Submissions due: 2nd July 

Posting begins: August 

Do I need to keep my creation secret?

You can share your WIPs only after the teams have been announced.

This fest is not anonymous.

What if my partner ghosts me or is being rude?

Please let us know and we’ll speak to them. This is a collaborative event - ignoring your partner causes unnecessary stress and anxiety, and we will not tolerate any rudeness or abuse.

We also ask that you stick to deadlines, because we don’t want anyone to be let down and end up without a partner. If you think at any point during the fest that you need to drop out, please please please let us know as soon as you can, so that we can find someone to replace you.

I still have a lot of questions about this, how can I contact you?

Send us an ask, a DM or contact us at  and we will gladly answer.

Your mods @orange-peony, @pato-roldnart, @bubble-gumhead

[wordsnstuff]

Why does screenwriting have such a weird format? I know it's standard for scripts of all kinds, but it's also alien? It almost looks like it's designed for someone to write quickly??

Why are screenplays the way they are?

Screenplays are interesting pieces of writing because while they can read very beautifully, and quality is apparent in some scripts more than others, it is a medium that is extremely purposeful. The script is not the final destination of the idea, and that is what you have to remember. The script is, more than anything, a map. It gives the cast, crew, and producers the necessary information to get a sense of the story so that it can be adapted effectively. Therefore, the quality of a script is judged by a completely different rubrick:

Adaptability: Scripts are naturally going to go through many changes to serve the filmmaking process. Filmmaking is a fundamentally collaborative process so other members of the group must be able to effectively interpret the script well enough to make strategic improvements. Scripts are definitely works of art in their own right, but the design must account for adaptation into a completely different medium and you will not always be the person making executive decisions on how that is to be done.

Clarity: Creative liberty is acceptable in a lot of forms of writing, and style is definitely apparent in a screenwriter's work, but that is primarily to be found in how they practically form the elements of the story, rather than how it is delivered in words. The clearer your meaning and intent in a script, the easier it will be for the other people you're collaborating with to interpret and translate into the next medium. Even if your work is meant to be experimental, abstract, or avant garde, the script is the place where you make sure everyone that is inside of the production understands the point, so that they can help you make sure everyone outside of it is confused in the desired way. Your talent and style can be showcased in the way you demonstrate the particular brand of humor or suspense or drama in the descriptions, dialogue, and dialogue cues.

Efficiency: Format is extremely strict in the industry because it is a collaborative medium that often brings together hundreds of crew members who are all from different backgrounds/experience. The one thing that must remain consistent and reliable is the legibility of the script. The gaffer and the producer alike must be able to pick up the script and find what they need to learn in order to fulfill their role. The format of the script denotes specific crew member's cues in specific places so they know how to find what's expected of them quickly and efficiently. While on larger productions, there's often many directorial positions who are coordinating and communicating with the crew members who handle more detail oriented jobs, that isn't always the case.

My advice, if you're looking to gain experience in writing scripts that are actually meant to be adapted is to practice self-discipline, pragmatism, and distance. Your script won't always belong to you. There isn't the autonomy in screenwriting that you have in prose. Learn the rules of screenwriting, then learn how to enhance them in your own way.

Best of luck,

x Kate

–

Masterlist

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[boydepartment]

Hii. So can you write sim for Hoon where like him and reader are ice skating partners and aren’t really the biggest fans of eachother but they end up kissing once or twice but reader tries to go back to how they were before but SH wasn’t having it. IDK💀 Idek if you write this kinda stuff

stfu - park sunghoon x reader (skating au)

a/n: i have never ice skated in a professional way in my life nor done competitive sport anything. SO IM GONNA TRY MY BEST! :3 also! i am totally okay with writing stuff w smooching :) i just wont write smut so you’re all good anon i pinky promise

warnings- annoyances to lovers, bickering, i wouldn’t really call it angst, kissing obviously lolz kinda open ended and i am open minded to doing a pt 2 this time

wc- 400-500

MASTERLIST

park sunghoon was annoying.

and hot, but mainly annoying. when you found out you had to work with him because your managers wanted a collaboration between the both of you, both you and mr. annoyingly hot were not pleased with the information.

obviously you were both in competitive skating and anything and every opportunity was a competition

it was weird though having to work on this competition together as a team.

you sat down on the bench after a somewhat successful practice with him. he really was professional on the rink. you took a swig of water.

“you need to practice landing more. you almost fell, i saw your leg shake.” sunghoon sat next to you.

your eye twitched and you went to stand up with your bag, “you’re not my trainer or manager.”

“yeah but like it or not i’m your partner right now.” sunghoon looked up at you, you looked down at him, “the last thing i want is for you to fuck this up for the both of us. because i know im not going to mess it up.” he stood up and placed his hand on your shoulder, “so please take-“

you slapped it away and kept glaring at him, “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

that’s how your interactions went for almost every practice, he would nitpick you, you’d bite back, he’d be snarky, and you’d both go home.

that was your relationship. until one practice where things got a WHOLE lot more complicated.

you were waiting outside to get picked up after practice, it was a warmer spring day and you were enjoying the balance between the cold of the rink, and the warmer night air.

“do you need a ride?”

you looked over and saw sunghoon, “i have someone picking me up.” your phone buzzed and your ride was apologizing profusely, cancelling on you.

“looks like you don’t anymore. did you annoy them that bad?” sunghoon asked looking over your shoulder.

“fuck off, sunghoon.” you turned your heel preparing to go wait for the bus but he softly grabbed your bag.

“i’ll give you a ride home.” his voice was stern.

“okay why?” you flipped around, you weren’t impressed by this gentlemanly act.

sunghoon looked at you, “it’s nighttime and you’re walking to the sketchy ass bus stop by yourself. let alone riding the bus by yourself. it’s late.”

you looked at him, “okay and you don’t think i could handle myself?”

“walking alone and taking a sketchy bus is dangerous for anyone. plus if someone wanted to kidnap you they’d let you go in 5 minutes tops because you yap too much.” he said simply, turning around to start walking. you followed him angrily.

“i don’t yap! you’re fucking ridiculous! you talk more than i do!”

“no i don’t. you asked for an explanation i gave you one.”

your shoes were loud on the concrete and it made sunghoon laugh slightly.

“you’re so fucking annoying! i can handle myself!” you don’t know why but you were following him to his car, he was right about the bus and you already had bad experiences. but lying was better than admitting he was right.

“mhm.” sunghoon hummed and unlocked his car, walking to the passengers side to presumably open the door for you.

“i can open the door myself! i’m perfectly capable of-“

you were cut off by him pinning you to the car by your waist. your breath hitched.

“perfectly capable of what?” he asked, his eyebrow perked up ever so slightly.

you went to speak but he beat you to it, “i easily just pinned you to the car, and you can’t do anything about it. what makes you think i’d let you walk home or take the bus alone?”

you felt yourself not being able to talk, looking at him with wide eyes, your heartbeat on fast forward.

“like i said a few weeks ago, whether you like it or not, you’re my skating partner right now and i’m not letting you be reckless because you’re too fucking stubborn to think about anyone but your burning hatred for me.” his grip tightened slightly before loosening.

“who said i hated you? and who said i think about you?” your spark of annoyance came back.

he chuckled and looked away, his side profile and laugh making your knees buckle ever so slightly, “no one has to tell me for me to just know y/n.”

sunghoon looked back at you and leaned down to your level, “no one has to tell me for me to know that i drive you fucking crazy on and off the rink.”

your whole face contorted in anger and you placed your hand on his collar before he leaned in more to crash his lips into yours.

all you remember is how your hands felt in his hair and the feeling of his hands sneaking under the bottom of your shirt to softly touch your bare waist.

after that night, right after practice you would already have an uber waiting for you. you wouldn’t run into him. you’d avoid him after work hours. and act professional on the rink.

after the practice the night before the competition you walked to the bathroom. you wanted to take a breather and wash your hands. when you looked up in the mirror you saw sunghoon standing against the stalls.

“what the fuck are you doing in here? this is the girls bathroom!”

“rinks closed. closed practice remember?”

you turned around and leaned on the sink, “so you waited for me in here like a fucking creep?”

“you’ve been avoiding me, why? that’s not very good chemistry for the competition…” he shook his head disapprovingly and walked toward you.

“so you only kissed me to focus on that? work?” you scoffed and looked away, “very typical of you sunghoon.”

he pulled you closer to him just like he did that night, “no. you’re not just some business partner to me. obviously i like you and i refuse to sit back and not let you at least be aware of that.”

“you what…?” you breathed out.

sunghoon chuckled again before leaning down to you, his lips so close to touching yours, “do i need to repeat myself? i like you. cancel your stupid uber and i will give you a ride home.”

he pulled away from you and started walking out of the bathroom, “we’re going out to get food too. hope you like western food.”

“o-okay…” you mumbled touching your lips before he fully walked out.

what the fuck was going on?

[brabblesblog]

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Ch 12: I hold myself supremely blest -- blest beyond what language can express

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.

A reunion amongst friends and a little surprise await the bride-to-be.

Professionally edited and collaborated on by my dearest friend <3 @editing-by-night

Read on AO3.

Masterlist

Art by @adactaaries

Ban was halfway finished with picking out cutlery, deciding between two soup spoons that looked rather similar when hands covered her eyes. Immediately she noticed the lack of Astarion’s scent, finding the aroma of parchment instead.

“Gale?”

The hands let go and he chuckled. “Congratulations are in order, I take it?”

“Thank you,” she turned to give him a quick hug. “But… aren’t you scheduled to be here in two days, together with the rest?”

He seemed to dither for a moment, and she raised her eyebrows. “I was supposed to, but Astarion requested that I come a few days ahead.”

“He- what for?” Ban watched as Gale opened his mouth to speak, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

Astarion smirked at her. “I’ve asked for Gale’s assistance regarding… certain matters, which are to be a surprise.”

A surprise? Does he mean the plans to get my father to speak up? Ban assumed so. Perhaps he’d made progress and wanted to surprise her with it, although she couldn’t fathom what Gale could do to help.

“Alright.” She smiled at Gale again, then gestured in the direction of the guest rooms. “Shall we?”

As they walked together, Gale cleared his throat. “I assume things worked out for the best between you and Astarion?”

She inclined her head. “It did.”

“Not that I’m doubting you, but-”

Ban cut him off with a look. “You’ve read my letters. We… we’ve worked it out.”

“I know.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “I know it’s highly unlikely, and likely rude of me to say so, but I merely wanted to be sure you aren’t trapped, that he hasn’t found some way to compel you.”

“I appreciate the concern. I really do. I assume I’ll also be having this conversation with the rest of our companions.”

They reached the door and Ban opened it, revealing a huge, ornate bed and a desk. A large painting hung on the wall opposite the window.

Ban looked around, collecting her thoughts. “Thank you for checking. But Astarion and I have never been happier.”

“He does seem more… relaxed,” Gale admitted. He sat on the bed, tiredly toeing off his shoes. “He sent his request to come ahead of time and for once he didn’t sound…”

“Off-putting?” Ban offered, and he chuckled.

“He sounded like his old self.”

Ban snorted. “Yes.” She didn’t intend to elaborate to their friends. It was enough for them to know that they were together and happy; she didn’t think it necessary to share much with the others about their relationship.

“And how are you doing, Gale? Any news from Waterdeep? I know Astarion invited Vel’s former spawn through you.”

“Nothing new, other than Enxisys and Miaxisys now apparently rule the roost,” Gale replied. He scanned the room, eyes pausing for a moment on the painting, but he didn’t remark on it. He cleared his throat. “Erm. You two have done a fair amount of redecorating since we were last here.”

“Almost tore the place down and rebuilt it from the ground up. We expanded the gardens, as you saw on the way in, redid the entrance, the dungeons…”

“Dungeons.” Gale groaned, “What joy.”

“They’re shops now. We’re not keeping prisoners. Well. I say we - but I know what you assumed. Him.”

“Oh, I figured. You wouldn’t have stayed had that been the case.” He waved a hand. “I suppose he’s not what we thought he was. A pompous, arrogant arse, and a little… domineering, in his little tyrant-y way, but that’s not really anything new from the Astarion we knew. Just… more.”

She laughed at the thought. “You’re not wrong. But… Gale, a favor, please. Something I’d ask of you, and of everyone, once they’re here.”

“Go ahead,” he said, curious.

“Be nice. To him.” She paused, searching for the right words. “He… what happened at the rite, after it, the reunion... It all still hurts him.”

She could see Gale consider her request. “I’ve always been… nice to Astarion. At the very least, civil.”

“I know, but he did feel betrayed by all of it.” She patted his knee. “A little more kindness would do wonders. He needs it.”

Gale softened at her words. “I’ll try, and I’ll inform the others as well. For what it’s worth, I could always see how much he loves you. After the rite, it seemed… misguided, along with the rest of him.”

Ban sighed. “Misguided, misunderstood, mis…” she waved a hand, “Missed. It was much missed.”

She fell silent for a moment. “Thank you for coming here, and indulging him in… whatever he wants you to do.”

Gale walked through the palace, arms clasped behind his back. Astarion had summoned him to a spare room in one of the palace’s annexes. The third room from the landing, the chamberlain had said, and Gale managed to find it, the door left slightly ajar. He stepped in and saw the Ascendant, dressed sharply as usual, in an embroidered doublet.

“You asked for me?” Gale shut the door.

Astarion turned to face him. He looked… uncertain, and Gale had only ever seen that on his face when Ban had been kidnapped.

“Gale.” Astarion cleared his throat. “I appreciate you coming ahead on such short notice. This wouldn’t be possible without your participation.”

“Of course. A few days made little difference. I simply had to ask for a longer leave from the academy.”

“I see.”

To Gale’s surprise Astarion fidgeted. He watched him cross his arms across his chest. For a long moment the two men stared at each other in silence.

Gale was the first to break it. “About… Ban. We- I was just with her and-” He tried to hold Astarion’s gaze. It wasn’t hard, and if he had to guess, there was some measure of amusement there, however veiled. “I simply want to clarify that whatever feelings I had for her back then,” he waved a hand, “are… gone. Poof!”

He saw the Ascendant’s lip curl, but was surprised it was to smile rather than sneer. Astarion pursed his lips momentarily, then huffed a small chuckle, his voice becoming haughty - and yet…companionable. “You are free to feel however you wish to feel about Ban. It is completely understandable to find yourself smitten; I myself am obviously not immune to her charms.”

Gale spluttered. “Yes, I mean, she is wonderful and all that, of course! However I’m trying to say-”

“I am aware,” Astarion interjected. His voice was chilly, but he was still smiling, and now his eyes were crinkled. The mirth in them was impossible to miss. “And I am saying it’s fine.”

“Oh.” Gale shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Alright.”

The smile on Astarion’s face was replaced by a pensive expression, and he turned away from Gale to face their little project. Gale heard him exhale.

“Between the two of us, I’d say I’m the one who needs to clear the air,” Astarion began. “I’ve yet to express my gratitude for taking Ban in when she needed it most. When she needed someone to give her aid, you were there, despite the potential risks to yourself.”

Gale swallowed. “I did what needed to be done. I wanted to do right by my friend. Whether I felt anything romantic for her or not was irrelevant.”

“I appreciate that,” Astarion turned, meeting Gale’s gaze. His eyes, to Gale’s surprise, were wide and earnest, the hooded, guarded expression absent. Gale hadn’t seen Astarion look so guileless since… well, possibly ever.

“While it… stung that none of you cared to remain friends with me after the rite, or to communicate with me before providing her assistance in leaving,” he began, “I comprehend your reasons. After all, I was with her every single day, and even she didn’t do that.”

Gale considered explaining himself, but decided to wait. Astarion took a deep breath and pushed on.

“I have to thank you, however, for aiding her - all of you, were I to be completely frank. Her departure was…” his eyes flicked away, “much needed. It was what she needed, and it was what I needed to set myself on the right path.”

Gale nodded, surprised and pleased by Astarion’s - by his friend’s candor. “Er. You’re… welcome, I suppose. Well, it all ended up for the better, so.”

He shifted his attention to the hulking object by Astarion, clapping his hands together and smiling eagerly.

“So, my friend. Shall we begin?”

Ban watched the foyer doors open and was immediately accosted by big, burly arms; she gasped out a weak “Karlach!”

“I’m here!” Karlach exclaimed, squeezing Ban tightly. “Withers said he’d be coming to the wedding itself, but-” she gestured from herself and Wyll, “-we’re his gift!”

“Delightfully considerate of him,” Astarion mused dryly from where he stood behind Ban. Karlach let go of her.

“Hey, Astarion,” she waved at him awkwardly.

He lifted his eyes from his fingertips, which he had been very pointedly studying. “Hello, Karlach.”

She beckoned Wyll over, and he pressed a horned skull onto Ban’s palms; it smelled sulphuric, and Astarion’s nose burned.

“Our wedding present,” Wyll said, looking at both of them. “It isn’t much, but-”

His words were silenced by Ban’s tight hug. As she released him he stepped towards Astarion, offering a hand.

“Congratulations.”

Astarion seemed to freeze for a moment, staring at Wyll’s proffered hand before clasping it for a firm shake.

“Thank you, Wyll. I… I appreciate it.” There was a stiffness in how he held himself, even now he was awkward in the face of kindness from anyone but her. Ban found it rather endearing and amusing.

The next face Ban saw was Halsin’s; evidently everyone had traveled together. He wrapped his arms around her, and the scent of earth filled her nose. After a long moment he set her down and turned to hug Astarion as well. To her surprise, he accepted and returned the gesture without complaint. Whatever had transpired in their conversation in Rivington had clearly established a warmer relationship between the two.

Then Lae’zel, who gave Ban a quick once-over. “I came to make sure you were healthy. And you,” she said, turning to Astarion, “are lucky they said she would likely want you alive last time. Chk.”

He bit his lip, then ground out a terse reply. “Formidable as you are, I wouldn’t be so certain I was the lucky one that day, Lae’zel.”

Lae’zel opened her mouth, but Shadowheart interjected before it could escalate. “Astarion! I’m so happy for you both.” Like Halsin, she hugged Astarion. Ban sagged in relief when he allowed it, looking only mildly baffled by the gesture. Ban mumbled a quick thank you when it was her turn for a hug. She’d told Shadowheart everything when they’d met to discuss the Sharran cloisters, and she was glad to see that had been enough for Shadowheart to warm up to Astarion.

Astarion blinked, seemingly bewildered after his second hug of the day. He recovered quickly, clearing his throat. “Thank you, Shadowheart.”

He turned, eyes roaming over everyone. “I shall have our chamberlain lead you all to your rooms. Dinner will be at sunset.”

Ban smiled a little, watching his shoulders drop as the chamberlain led their former companions deeper into the palace.

“You handled that well.”

“Well enough,” he grumbled. “They still loathe me.”

She stepped closer, cupping his cheek. “They do not. And if some of them do, love, we’ll change their minds by the time the night is over. And then tomorrow…” she pecked his lips, “Tomorrow that will be the least of your concerns.”

He sighed. “I know. I merely-” he shook his head ruefully. “Best not bring it up, I suppose. What’s done is done.”

“You could clear the air. We have all of tonight to do that,” She scanned his face. “Is there more troubling you?”

“Not troubling me, dear.” The corner of his lip tugged up into a smile, arms wrapping around her for a quick hug. “On the contrary; there’s something I can’t wait to show you.”

“Oh?” She leaned into his touch, a small moment just for themselves on this busy night. “Perhaps something between your legs?” She crooned, batting her eyelashes at him coyly.

“Your wedding gift,” he purred into her ear, eliciting a chuckle from her.

“If it’s some expensive jewelry again, or more art… Gods. We’ll run out of walls to hang them.”

He smirked. “It is expensive, and rare. But you’ll have to wait until the end of the night to see it.”

They entered the dining room to see everyone seated and waiting; Ban slipped into her usual seat to the right of Astarion. Wyll broke the silence that had fallen when they walked in.

“We’re all happy for you two,” he began, his hand reaching for the stem of his goblet. “For… working it out. Shadowheart and Gale kept us abreast of the… developments.”

Astarion, who’d been pouring himself some blood from their shared bottle, set it down with a rather loud clink.

“Working it out,” he spat out. “Of course we did, no thanks to you lot.” He knew she’d had to leave, knew it had needed to happen, but that didn’t lessen the hurt.

Karlach leaned forward. “We did what was best for Ban. And you were-”

“I know what I was,” Astarion hissed. “I merely wish someone… had approached me. Then again, why did I even expect anything of the sort? You all distanced yourselves after the ritual, avoided me as if I was some… leper, and not one of you reached out to me when Ban…” He felt Ban’s hand cover his own and he squeezed.

“I understand why you did what you did,” he pushed on. “I simply wanted you to know that it hurt me - all of it.” Clenching his jaw, he looked down at their entwined hands.

He took a deep breath. “But all is forgiven. We are here to celebrate, not throw old grievances around.”

Silence met him for several long moments, broken only by Gale reaching over to clap a hand on his shoulder. “We understand, Astarion. I meant what I said before. We’re still your friends.”

Their companions voiced their agreement and several quiet apologies were offered.

“I… Thank you,” Astarion mumbled under his breath, reaching for his goblet.

With that out of the way, conversation began in earnest. Astarion watched it all, listening to nothing in particular, unsure of how they actually felt about him. Will they always look at me and wonder if someday they’ll be called upon to rescue her from me once more? Will I ever be just Astarion to them again?

As the food was served and he prepared to eat, he caught his name.

“-starion?”

Shadowheart. He looked to her, curious.

“Karlach was asking if you’d be able to take on a cambion now,” she explained.

“Cambion, I’m not certain. An incubus, most assuredly so.” He smirked, the pleasant memory flashing through his mind.

Lae’zel fixed him with a baleful glare from the other end of the table. “If by that you mean to say you killed Haarlep… I am almost impressed.”

“I did indeed,” he preened, raising his glass to her. “As previously implied, I could probably take you on.”

She laughed, a challenge in her eyes. “Chk. I would like to see you try.”

Ban cleared her throat. “Before you challenge Lae’zel, Astarion, you should try sparring with me.”

“Only if you can stay in mist form for longer than a minute,” Astarion quipped; pleased to hear the laughter from the rest.

“The day I do is the day you’ll regret saying that.”

Karlach snickered. “Look at you two! At us! Just like the good old days, eh?”

Astarion glanced at her, a wistful look in his eyes. “With much better fare, but I agree.”

“The camp food left much to be desired,” Halsin agreed. He was seated between Lae’zel and Shadowheart, his more homely clothes a contrast to his surroundings.

“Thank you!” Astarion exclaimed emphatically, to loud snickering.

“You don’t even eat!” Gale snapped, indignant.

Astarion wrinkled his nose. “I didn’t eat, but I could smell.”

“I eat,” Karlach intoned, “and it sucked.”

“Apples, fish heads…” Shadowheart added, before sipping a spoonful of soup.

Gale spluttered. “I had no choice! That was all we had!”

“You were with Ban and Astarion most days, Gale. You could have taken the time to find more palatable fare,” Wyll suggested, deadpan.

Ban scanned them all, a small smile flitting over her features. “Astarion said my breath after I ate your stews was rancid.”

“Rancid!” Gale raised his index finger. “I’ll have you know my mother taught me how to cook!”

Laughter filled the room. The warm candlelight threw them all into reddish hues, and if Astarion squinted, it was almost as if they were back by the campfire. He looked to his beloved, saw her laughing, and it was as if no time had passed. His heart swelled.

She shot him a smile, the one that was just for him, reaching over to tangle her fingers in his, their hands set on the table for all to see.

She leaned in to ask quietly, “Feeling better?”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek before replying.

Astarion’s eyes locked onto hers and he directed his answer to her mind. I do not require their approval, or their friendship, but… I will admit that having it again is nice. He reached for another forkful of his dinner.

She nodded almost imperceptibly. You and Gale had a conversation about it, and I had discussed things with Shadowheart and Gale, as well. Halsin-

Halsin and I made amends some time ago. He fixed her with a pointed gaze, sending a small sliver of his memory-

Coming apart on her lap, Halsin’s gift spreading him open, feeling it hit his spot with every thrust. The look on her face as she fucked him, praised him, loved him, his desire and joy comingling in an overwhelmingly intense rush as he came.

She hid her answering grin from their guests, resting her head on her hand and tilting her head his way; her legs crossed. I assumed as much, seeing as he seemingly gifted that to you with no preamble.

Astarion shrugged. It was a wonderful present. I do find myself curious about how he’ll attempt to top that for his wedding gift. He let his eyes rake over her. Hopefully his new present will have me writhing with just as much pleasure as the previous one did - perhaps even more, seeing as you’ve improved your… skillset.

Ban snorted, rolling her eyes. She pointedly stared between his legs, licking her lips slowly. I saw him carry something in when he arrived. Something large and fragile, by the looks of the container. She showed Astarion what she had seen: a rather sizable box, gingerly set on the floor when Halsin greeted them and picked up with great care and cradled afterwards.

If it’s fragile, then it’s quite unlikely to be what I was looking forward to.

He saw Ban splutter mid-sip, failing to keep her laughter hidden. You want more? We already have a sizable collection - every size and shape - and we barely even use them!

I prefer having it once in a while, like a fine vintage - imbibe too much and you lose appreciation for its finer notes. Besides, most of the time I’d much rather be buried inside you.

She choked on her wine at that, a loud sound that would have captured everyone’s attention had they not been engaged in their own conversation. He watched her squirm with deep satisfaction.

You tease!

Astarion hardly recognized the carefree, throaty laugh that escaped him, but he didn’t attempt to stem it. He lifted her hand, stroking her fingers with his own. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her wrist, exhaling through his mouth to let the warm rush of air tickle her flesh. She shivered and her eyes closed as she bit her lip lightly. He chuckled and her eyes snapped open in a playful glare; it merely served to amuse him more. He was certain breaking their fast would be memorable.

There was a small ripple of nervous energy amongst their guests, and he tilted his head, shifting his attention to them.

“-don’t even know if they’d realistically survive doing that.” Gale, engaged in conversation with Karlach, drank deeply from his goblet.

Karlach’s eyes snapped towards Astarion, realizing he was listening to their conversation. She elbowed Gale.

“What? I mean, healing abilities aside, which I’ve personally witnessed…” Gale trailed off to see Astarion’s gaze on him.

The painting in Gale's room. One of their more unusual commissions, a piece depicting Ban feeding from a wound in his chest. He crossed his arms, amused.

Ban had followed her husband’s eyes. “You two taking bets?”

Karlach pointed her fork at Gale. “He said Astarion would die if you two actually did it. And I’m not betting against the wizard.”

Astarion chimed in. “You have personally witnessed me stabbed in the heart, Gale. What gives you the impression I wouldn’t survive a shallower incision?”

“I merely thought… with the size of the wound depicted on it…”

“Never heard of artistic license?” Karlach answered without missing a beat.

Gale’s glare was withering. “I know what artistic license is, Karlach. I was merely wondering if they actually did it to the extent depicted, if at all.”

“I’m not confirming nor denying anything.” Ban’s lips curled in a smile as she said this.

I’m almost tempted to tell him we did, he told her. Her eyes flicked to him.

I don’t need any rumors of me eating your heart-

Astarion shrugged. Suit yourself. I wouldn’t mind everyone thinking us debauched, senseless fools, driven mad with lust for each other. He placed a hand high on her thigh and squeezed. As if that were not true.

“You’re driving me mad,” Ban muttered under her breath, her legs visibly squeezing together.

He drank from his goblet to hide his smirk, caressing her now-tensed thigh in slow, languid strokes. One more day, Ban. I hope you’ll survive it.

For the rest of the evening, the dining room was filled with the sounds of eating, of clanking dishes, of drinks being poured and stories being told. Throughout it all, the sound of laughter reigned supreme.

After everyone else had retired for the night, Astarion led her blindfolded through the palace, hands on her shoulders. “We shall take a left, and a right in twenty paces.”

Ban groaned as her toe stubbed a nearby armchair. “Gods, must it really be this way?”

He’d led her up one of the palace’s staircases, through corridors they rarely passed through, and she kept bumping into things.

“Must? Of course not. However I’ve spent too much time and energy preparing this to merely present it without at least some fanfare. Besides - how many times do I need to decline answering that question?”

“Where are you taking me, then?”

“Ask better questions and I might consider indulging you.”

“If by indulging you mean giving yet another non-answer, no.” She laughed. “You absolute prat, I-”

Her words were swallowed by his mouth seizing hers, his tongue diving between her lips before she could react. She felt his hands slide their way to her ass, squeezing firmly enough to elicit a gasp. He pulled her hips forward, grinding himself against her, and she ached at the feel of his cock, hard and hot, pressing exactly where she wanted him. It was delicious - electric - but before she could lift her hands to tug him closer, he’d already pulled away. She could hear him panting and knew she wasn’t the only one whose self-control hung by a thread, much as he liked to pretend otherwise.

“A little more patience, my love, and you’ll-”

“We’ll,” Ban corrected, smirking.

There was a rustle of cloth as Astarion adjusted himself, then cleared his throat, the snort barely hidden. “Fine. We’ll both be rewarded for our restraint.”

“Not fair,” she whined. “You get to touch me, just like that, get to use your words, and I’m just immediately begging to have you.”

“Let me remind you: this was your punishment.” He returned his hands to her shoulders and continued leading her. “And I have not used the full force of my voice on you in quite some time.”

She noticed an odd somberness in the tone of that last statement. “What do you mean?”

“Turn right here.” He turned her, his hands gentle. He took a breath through his nose. “You seem to be longing for the old days - for those flowery, sultry words - when I could simply… speak, and you’d melt.”

She suspected them to be in the third landing of this particular wing, guessing they were close to the room she theorized he was taking her to. The sudden gust of cold air told her they’d passed by one of the arched windows. “I did notice that you’d stopped, but I didn’t want to… much as I missed it, I thought you might have seen it as performing.”

He stilled, and she stopped. She sensed him move in front of her, then felt his hands slide around her waist and pull her into an embrace.

“Is that so?” he murmured against her ear. “I had assumed you did not want reminders of before, and so I refrained. I recall you admonishing me, telling me to relax. To be clear - I do not mind a certain level of performance; not anymore, and especially not with you. Seduction is by nature, on some level, a performance. But with you it is not a cold, callous thing. Heightening your pleasure could never be cold to me.”

She traced soothing circles on his back, fingers gliding along the muscles she knew so well.

“I’m sorry. That’s not what I intended, at all. You stopped doing it after the rite, and well… you never really slipped back into doing it regularly. So whenever you did do it I assumed it was… contrived, that it wasn’t something I should be encouraging or requesting.”

“When I had nothing else to offer you, words were the one thing I could.” She felt him relax into her touch, his chin settling on top of her head.

“When I finally had everything to give, words felt… unnecessary. I did not realize until too late that words were what you missed the most - not merely the sensual persuasion, but those that spoke of my true feelings. With the quagmire our relationship had become,” he huffed, “it felt unwise to bring such talk back into our bedroom. I feared you mourning the past, and you voiced no complaint; that felt like confirmation that I was on the right path.”

She considered his words and found them accurate. She nodded, face huddled against the expanse of bare chest his open shirt exposed.

“I suppose we misunderstood each other. Again.”

“One of a multitude of such instances, yes,” he conceded. “However, like everything else, it can be discussed. So, my love. Do you wish me to…” he leaned in, lips a hairsbreadth from the shell of her ear, his voice lowering to an erotic purr, “whisper sweet words to you, soft words of devotion…” he breathed, a rough, ragged sound, the heat of it sending a wave of fire from her ear to her groin, “pant and gasp and tell you every one of the debauched ways I wish to have you…” his tongue flicked out and ran up the edge of her ear, “moan and whimper your name,” his fingers traced down her neck and across her collarbone, “sigh out every filthy thought that goes through my mind every time I see you, so that you can hear every. single. day. that every inch of my body yearns for you,” he caught her earlobe between his teeth for the briefest moment, “that every moment I’m not buried inside you, filling you with my seed, is a glorious agony only you can assuage…”

She shuddered, barely preventing her knees from buckling; Astarion chuckled, low and deep.

“I can make your name a prayer, sing your praises. Coax you to do anything and everything for me, dearest Ban.” Her name was almost obscene on his lips, velvety voice crooning directly into her ear. She was wet, her legs squeezing together.

He chuckled lightly, his breath hitching on a quiet inhale that cut off in a desperate groan when he caught the scent of her arousal. To her surprise, his mouth devoured hers again. Her arms lifted to wind around his waist, but he captured them, wrapping his strong hands around her wrists.

“Not today, my love,” he whispered, “as much as I want it too.” He pressed his hips against hers, one long, slow, grind, allowing her to feel the truth of his words.

“Fuck,” she managed to groan, pulling away. “Yes. I want that.”

He kissed her cheek. “Tomorrow, I promise. You will be lavished with all the words I’ve longed to give you again. In fact, I trust you will make some small attempt to do the same,” he teased, “although it may be decades, perhaps centuries, before you attain my level of skill.” Ban rolled her eyes, and although he couldn’t see it through the blindfold, he sensed it.

“I’ll come up with something. You’ll see.”

He loosed a quiet snort. After a moment, he resumed leading her down the corridor, and into a room. He closed the door behind them, then led her backwards until the backs of her legs hit what felt like a chair.

“Sit.”

She did as asked, and he reached down to untie her blindfold. “I’m not certain how to say this, other than that I wanted to give you something for our wedding. You’ve planned it to perfection, and this is my way of saying thank you.”

He drew away, and she opened her eyes.

She saw… herself. Slightly more ashen than she was used to, staring at herself askance. It took several long moments to realize what she was looking at. An ornate, gold-gilt rectangular mirror with an arched top. A mirror. She gasped in wonder, eyes tracing over Astarion, who was naturally also reflected in it, grinning from ear to ear.

It took slightly longer to realize what she was seated on. Mostly black, not quite the same style as his, but a throne all the same. She took a moment to find the words, but all that came out was a broken “Astarion…”

He crossed his arms, smiling still. “Meiros had made such a brilliant piece, and I thought its beauty would be wasted if it would never be able to reflect your countenance. I corresponded with Gale, who corresponded with Elminster, and…” he shrugged. “Here it is. In time for you to see yourself properly on our wedding day.”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. Tears brimmed in her eyes. “And th-this?” She ran her hands over the armrests, feeling the intricate carvings.

“Another gift. The initial one, in fact, before I purchased the mirror. You sorely needed one.”

Ban kept her eyes on herself, drinking in everything. “Thank you. For both. I… I love them. But I’d still want to sit on your lap.”

Astarion laughed, a loud, mirthful sound. “I won’t deny you that. Still, you have to admit this sends a much-needed message to the guests at our events.” He approached her and playfully sat on her lap, angling his face towards hers. “You’re to be respected, to be seen as holding the same stature as I. Equals.”

He turned to straddle her, pressing himself close, arms around her neck. “Wouldn’t you say that was a good idea?” He looked back at the mirror, seeing them both. I should have her take me in front of this sometime, he thought. The visuals would no doubt be magnificent…

She nodded, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. She could feel the soft press of his cock against her belly; she desperately wanted to reach out and touch him, her hand lifted before she could think.

“Bad girl,” he said, returning his gaze to her. He took her hand and wrapped it around his waist instead. His eyes, however, were tender. “One more day. I promise you it will be worth the wait.”

He leaned forwards, kissing her softly, unable to keep his hips still. He ground against her, her hand obediently remained where he’d placed it.

Ban moaned, longing to deepen the kiss. She sucked on his lower lip, but he pulled away as soon as she began to nibble.

He stood up, thumb running over his swollen lip absently. They both looked at the tent in his trousers, he with chagrin and she with naked hunger. He quietly adjusted himself.

“Patently clear I’m not the only one suffering,” she said.

A small, amused bark answered her. “You have no idea.”

Bonus: Here’s the art from Gale’s room, commissioned from @kringle-c

Taglist: @tavamarie @ayselluna @enterthedreams @coltaire @qiific3 @misscrissfemmefatale @vixstarria @eatyourheartoutmylove @micropoe10 @thegoodwitchs-blog @akirahime @velcyrptr @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @babblebrain-blog @asterordinary @last-but-not-the-least @artist4theworld @gracemisconduct @decadentcoffeewizard @rootin-tootin-n-kind @pursuitseternal @youngtacobanana @krispeenuggiez @girlygmer-blog @cheezits4lyfe @vinegarjello @the0ldmann @wisteriaofthegraves @midnight-musings-of-nyx @toni-winchester @icybluepenguin @beepersteeper @hereliesblackdragon @generalstephkenobi

[slavghoul]

Interview from Rock Hard [FR] Magazine 5/2023

In which Tobias talks about Spillways, Phantomime, how he chooses what songs to cover, the state of the world, why he loves churches, and some touring technicalities.

--

Rock Hard: Let's go back to the version of "Spillways" that you recorded with Joe Elliott, the singer of Def Leppard. How did this collaboration come about?

Unfortunately, this story is less sexy than it would have been if I could have done exactly what I wanted. Before Impera was released, I regularly mentioned Def Leppard in interviews because some of the experimentation on that album was inspired by that band, their writing style. […] As I often mentioned Def Leppard, people around me eventually told me that Joe Elliott and Phil Collen regularly spoke highly of Ghost in interviews. Since I obviously thought it was cool, someone suggested a collaboration. A good collaboration shouldn't be forced, it should happen naturally. The best ones are often the ones that weren't supposed to happen. Two drunk musicians somewhere accidentally writing a good song... Crosby, Stills & Nash style. People who, by chance, find themselves together in a different context from the one they are used to and do something together, by accident. Something magical! That's how I would ideally have wanted it to happen. So I said I was ready to call Joe Elliott and see if we had a rapport. We started talking on the phone and texting a lot, me living in Sweden and him in Dublin. As we were both on the move almost all the time, and he was on tour, we couldn't meet. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he tells me that he has recorded some vocals for 'Spillways'! Quite frankly, I was surprised because I wasn't expecting it. I was anticipating a possible collaboration, but in a different way. To be honest, I thought we would create something new later on. But when I heard the result, I thought two things. Firstly, I found it very flattering. Secondly, I thought Joe brought something new and cool to "Spillways".

But you would have preferred to have the opportunity to write a new song with him.

Yes, that's the way I saw it, but I'm happy with the way it turned out. And then I said to Joe, "You know how we post those funny little episodes on our social media?" He replied "Yes, I think I saw that!" and kindly agreed to participate in one of them. Nowadays, many artists are over-solicited to record video clips for anything and everything in order to keep their channels updated: "Come and see us in concert in such and such a city!", etc. etc. The aim is obviously to keep the media space occupied.

By creating "content"!

Exactly! And that's exactly what I don't want to do. That's why, instead of all this crap, we started some time ago to create these little humorous episodes. One day, for example, I came up with the idea of an episode set in 1969 featuring a sort of "pre-Ghost" group. To do this, I obviously had to write a new song, which I did with this psychedelic track, 'Kiss The Go-Goat', which I thought was funny. When we recorded it, 'Mary On A Cross', another song of the same type, came along. So we ended up with two sides of a single that became 'Seven Inches Of Satanic Panic.’ Instead of just announcing the release on our networks, we chose to shoot a new video in which we featured Papa Nihil and explained the origins of this so-called 'pre-Ghost' band. I thought it was a much more clever and fun way of presenting the single. We do the same when it comes to announcing an album release or a future tour. Joe Elliott has a great sense of humour and is capable of self-mockery, so he kindly agreed to play this little game.

Ghost have made a habit of releasing an EP between their albums, mostly, if not entirely, made up of covers: If You Have Ghost (2013), Popestar (2016) and now Phantomime. How is it not just about “creating content”?

For me, it's a kind of exercise. I like analogies. Let's imagine that the place we are in is a theatre, and that this theatre, in order to be viable, has to host performances all year round. At least fifty weeks a year. Daytime rehearsals, evening performances... You are the director of the place and you know that the play that is currently being performed there will end at the end of the month. So you look for something else to program in order to make the most of the place and keep your staff busy. Maybe an old classic like Doctor Glass (Hjalmar Söderberg, 1905), an adaptation of John Steinbeck, or a rereading of Shakespeare's Hamlet that you could revisit by inviting this actor or that director, renting out your theatre for three extra months for the occasion. Working on this old material, even if it means not releasing it if it doesn't work. We do that to keep the team active, enthusiastic, focused. That's my way of working. I worked simultaneously on the Impera album and the demos of the covers that are on Phantomime. One day I could record 'Spillways' and two hours before leaving the studio to go home, I could look at any of the covers and decide which ones to keep. So, as soon as Impera was finished, I was able to concentrate on those covers that the album's producer wasn't interested in putting on the record. Which was fine with me. I spent some time sorting out the covers I had recorded as demos. There were ten in total, but I only kept five. Because with those five tracks I thought I could come up with a really strong rock EP. In my albums, there are highs, lows, really metal tracks, ballads, instrumentals, etc. So I thought it was a good idea to make a really strong rock EP. I felt it would be cool if this new EP was viscerally rock’n’roll. The opening track, "See No Evil" by Television, sounds like the Rolling Stones on methamphetamine! (laughs)

You like the songs you cover, that's a prerequisite. But their lyrics also play a very important role in your choice.

Yes, that's what makes me choose a song or not.

Is that the number one criterion?

Erm... (he thinks for a long time) If I hesitate between two songs, yes, absolutely! Let's go back to Leonard Cohen, for example. For the bonus tracks of Prequelle, I chose "Avalanche" because it seemed to me to have a biblical and existential significance. This was not the case with 'Take This Waltz', another Cohen song that I liked as much, if not more. The latter, with its Viennese waltz feel, would have metaphorically taken us to Austria, which would not have been very coherent, unfortunately.

Should these covers speak about God, the Devil, ask questions about religion?

They must speak about evil, about good. Be existential, biblical, philosophical, but seen from a certain perspective. Or at least tick one of those boxes, like 'Hanging Around' (The Stranglers) which is about Christ. Some of the other covers I've recorded are more specific, such as 'Phantom Of The Opera' (Iron Maiden), which is about horror. I also make my choice according to the humour of the songs I want to cover. It should be close to my own sense of humour.

You mentioned the first Phantomime cover, "See No Evil". It takes on a different resonance today because, on January 28, 2023, we sadly learned of the death of Tom Verlaine, the leader of Television.

When I recorded this cover in 2021, just after completing Impera, it was already a tribute. But obviously, with Tom's death, this song takes on another resonance, that of a final posthumous salute. I've been listening to Television for twenty years, and I love them and have always considered them a great band. In indie clubs they always play the same song, 'Marquee Moon', but Television had many other good songs, especially on their first two albums: Marquee Moon (1977) and Adventure (1978). I like those two best. It's a band that had a huge influence on one of my previous bands, Subvision. So much so that at the time, I thought several times of covering Television songs that I loved: "See No Evil", but also "Elevation" and "Foxhole".

The first single from Phantomime is Genesis' 'Jesus He Knows Me', a scathing critique of televangelist stars like Jimmy Swaggart, Jim Bakker and Robert Tilton. Ugly people who have made their fortune by 'promising salvation’ to naive believers for big bucks. Can we expect to see you wearing a wig in its video, as singer/drummer Phil Collins did in the original video for this song in 1991? 

(Laughs) We've already shot the video for this cover version (editor’s note: the interview was conducted on 11 March 2023) and I'm not in it, but it's a direct nod to the original video. I've always liked this song - except for the reggae part, which I thought was horrible in the Genesis version and which I reworked - and it's funny to see how this 1991 text is still relevant today. Except, of course, for a few "old-time" words, like "phone book". The televangelists are still there on television promising things to people who take their word for it and shower them with money because they are assured of "salvation", they are promised heaven. I also rearranged Iron Maiden's 'Phantom of The Opera' after taking care to contact Steve Harris for his approval.

Indeed, in your retelling of this song, you are the Phantom and not its victim...

Yes, I wanted to be the Phantom. I submitted the idea to Steve, who gave me the green light. I only made some surgical changes. Similarly, I would have liked to have proposed the same thing to Phil Collins so that the text of "Jesus He Knows Me" would have been more in line with the times. Change, for example, "but she don't know about my girlfriend / or the man I met last night" to "or the dude I screwed last night". Alas, lack of time prevented me from doing so. And then, since this was a slippery slope, I thought: - What if Collins refuses? Or what if he gets pissed off? - We could have made these changes without asking anyone's permission - as long as the artists get their royalties, it's not a problem - but there was no way I was going to do it. Neither I nor my label wanted to alienate anyone, obviously.

In 1977, in "Hanging Around" by The Stranglers, which you also cover on Phantomime, the singer Hugh Cornwell sings about several things, but also about Christ "telling his mother not to worry because he's comfortable in the city where he's high above the ground". Is that why you chose it?

Actually, the key thing that made me choose this song from the band over any other is that I grew up listening to the album it's taken from, Rattus Norvegicus (1977), the Stranglers' first release. There are a lot of songs on that album that I would have loved to play because, as a musician, I really like to play those kinds of songs. ‘Hanging Around' was a good fit for us because of the lyrics, but also because it was more in keeping with our style. Ghost are obviously a metal and hard rock band, but also have a strong punk sensibility. Punk, but well played (smiles). For me, The Stranglers have always done "well played punk": this band knows how to play, how to arrange its music, unlike GBH and Discharge, to name but two. Mind you, I also like the latter, but not for the same reasons. A lot of punk bands from the late 70s/early 80s sounded "sloppy". It wasn't for lack of trying to play better. When The Clash and The Jam went into the studio, they tried to do their best and they sounded great! The same goes for The Adverts. Those guys were doing their best. Nowadays, some people think that being a punk is to play badly on purpose, to be messy. No, no, no ! But I digress...

What is the reason for the nod to Metallica's 'Fade To Black' in the solo on 'Hanging Around'?

Just for fun. When I'm working on a guitar solo, I throw things in here and there, like a messy painter. It's like stretching a canvas on a wall and making big brush strokes... But when I start to feel like I've got something cool, I dig in more surgically, a bit like a collage artist would. I interweave little elements, and when it comes time to insert a solo into a piece, I refine things by continuing to add new elements. Generally, a solo gives you a space of freedom in the middle of an otherwise totally structured song. That's when you can come up with different things in terms of melody. So that's the way I do it, even on the demos of the covers. I ask my sound engineer, Martin Eriksson Sandmark, to play me the draft of the solos I've been working on over and over again, and then I try out different things, whatever comes to mind. It's as if I'm drawing a mental map of what the solo will become. Sometimes, if I'm on a part sometimes, if I'm on a bluesy part, I'll let myself play a few notes of Gary Moore’s "Still Got The Blues", or, if I'm tapping, Van Halen's "Eruption". When I was working on the solo for 'Hanging Around', I felt like playing this part of Metallica's 'Fade To Black', just for fun. And it ended up on the demo. I'm a decent guitar player, but I'm not at the level I could have reached if I'd worked harder. I could just record these solos in the studio, where you can always slow things down when you play them and then speed them up and put them on the album, but Fredrik Akesson can play these parts without tricks and with much more finesse than I can. He recorded the solo for "Hanging Around" as I had presented it on the demo, with this nod to Metallica, and we thought it was so cool that we kept it.

Hugh Cornwell, the ex-singer of The Stranglers, said in an interview that, although he was not a believer, he loved visiting churches. Is this also true for you? Are you also attracted to churches?

Yes, passionately! I believe in them like I believe in Star Wars. I've always thought of churches as stage props. Walking into one of them is a bit like walking onto a film set of the original Indiana Jones And The Temple Of Doom. It's awe-inspiring, even though you know it's just cardboard. Churches have magical powers because they are centuries-old buildings and we know that a lot of things have happened within their walls. Not that I'm trying to throw up on these places of worship, but when I go into a church I don't hear God, but the whispers of time. I am not an atheist, although intellectually I can see that there are many reasons why I should be. I believe in a Force, in an Energy. I also believe that we don't know many things, but that there is a balance between these different energies. The white and the black.

Good and Evil...

Absolutely! Right now the world is in crisis, but we're going to get through it. It's a vicious circle. We do ourselves a disservice if we think that if the world were rid of people like Vladimir Putin, Alexander Lukashenko, Jair Bolsonaro and the ayatollahs of Iran and Iraq, we would be out of the woods. I think all this can happen - and I hope it will, in a way - but Good and Evil will always be there. That balance is necessary. But I am an optimist by nature. I believe that there is a future for Volodymyr Zelensky and the Eastern bloc. That there is perhaps a chance to put into practice what was tried there some thirty years ago. And I believe in a free Iran, in a possible return to what this country was in 1978. What a beautiful day that would be! But that doesn't mean there wouldn't be a new war somewhere else in the world. I'm an eternal optimist, but let's face it: history is always starting over. As I said, it's a question of balance, a permanent coming and going. Because I believe in this Force I was talking about earlier, I truly believe that the West can win, that the way we live and the way we have built our society is a step forward that shows progress and can make a large majority of people happy. Not all, but most. But even if we all lived in love and peace for five years, something else would come along to create chaos! An alien or something! (laughs) That's how it works. Our mistake is to believe in the status quo, in nirvana. It's not going to happen. It's always about balance. The Vatican and organised religion... All that crap is just to pick people's pockets, to control them, to take their energy and scare them into plundering them. The same goes for the GOP (editor’s note: the American "Grand Old Party", suspected of having Christian nationalist leanings), which only deceives people in order to take their money! That's all you need to know. It's simple, so simple to understand. All this does not mean that the energy that emanates from churches is not real. When you walk into one of them, you feel - or so I believe - the energy of all those who have gone before you, for decades, for centuries. Their fears, their hopes, etc. So much so, sometimes, that you can feel oppressed, even upset. So I can walk into a church and feel a sense of awe. I love visiting these places, especially from an aesthetic point of view.

On Phantomime, you also cover "We Don't Need Another Hero" by Tina Turner. Don't you think that, given the state of the world today, we do need "another hero"?

I think Zelensky has shown how much we like heroes, how important they are to us. I think back, for example, to how the world went wild when Andrés Iniesta scored the decisive goal in the 116th minute to help Spain win the 2010 World Cup against the Netherlands. I believe in human determination and how it can inspire the world to distinguish between what is important... and what is really important. What is important for our daily lives. Yes, it's cool to have a complete collection of Venom's work, but it doesn't matter if I’m missing the most important thing. In the last ten years especially, the western world has been focusing on tons of unimportant things trying to pit people against each other, cancel culture and all that stuff... It proves that we are spoiled children. Our mentality shows it when it comes to security. Seeing Zelensky defend himself as he does appeals to our most primal instincts: it's beautiful and very inspiring. Nothing else is more important than that. It is the only thing that matters... Otherwise we have to be prepared for a lot of people to live in misery.

Next August, you will tour in the USA with Amon Amarth. I noticed that they will not accompany you on the last date, in Los Angeles, on September 11, 2023. There is no opening act, you ask the audience not to use their phones, etc. That sounds like a live DVD!

Yes, we are indeed planning to film this show, but it won't be the end of the Impera era cycle, even if we will not have so many dates left after this concert. There will still be a few shows in South America and Australia.

Nothing in Japan? A country that one might think Ghost was made for.

At the moment, it's not very clear. We had a lot of discussions with the Japanese promoters, as there was talk of us appearing on the bill of a Japanese festival scheduled for this month. Unfortunately, the festival was postponed... and then rescheduled for March! I think they originally had a big headliner, but the headliner didn't show up. So they cancelled, and then considered a smaller edition with Pantera. With all the back and forth, we ended up dropping out because it was too risky for us to play one date there after six months of inactivity. Our team is currently taking a break, but we preferred to use this time to rehearse for our next shows. The first one will be in Rouen on May 21st. We learned a good lesson the last time we played Hellfest. It was so hot that day, the conditions were so extreme, that we almost had a storm. We really had to fight against the elements and it affected me (Editor's note: the last encore of the show was not played, as Tobias was suffering from vocal problems). It was a very tough show. What really pissed me off was not the fact that I lost my voice, but the fact that the festival-goers who were there were not treated to our entire production. It was indeed difficult to foresee these extreme conditions. This summer we have to play festivals again, so we have reworked our production, which will be better adapted to the complicated weather. On this tour we will play in Spain, Finland, Norway, Greece, all within a few days of each other. So we'll be touring with two identical stages, so we can do all these shows without too much downtime. It's not very ecological, I'm sorry to say, because sometimes we'll have to take a plane to get to these cities in time. Not great, but it's the only way...

Will you play any of the Phantomime covers live?

One thing is for sure: we will play 'Jesus He Knows Me' because it's the first single from the new EP. As for the rest, we'll see during the rehearsals how the set evolves - because it's going to evolve a bit from the 2022 set. We're thinking of playing some songs from Impera that we've left out so far.

[harlowsbby]

Polar Opposites

(Collaboration with @harlowcomehome I hope you all enjoy this! I appreciate you hch for doing this with me 💘)

The sound of glass breaking, against the marbled floors filled the room.

“Oh, so we’re breaking my shit?” Jack scoffed standing a safe distance away from you.

“Not everything in these cabinets is yours.” You barked back, filling another box with wine glasses. You groaned, getting the broom and dustpan from the hallway closet.

You cleaned up the shards of glass, trying not to cry as your life came to a crumble.

“It was one time! It won’t happen again.” Jack pleaded with you, he cared about this relationship more than he cared to admit.

“You’re right! It won’t because I’m not your girlfriend anymore.” You shrugged before throwing the pile of glass into the trash can.

“You’re going to throw away this entire relationship because I made a mistake? It was one time Y/N. You’re being stupid!”

“So the cheater wants to call me stupid huh?” You sarcastically laughed as you held the heavy cardboard box close to your chest.

“You’re going to regret this this.” He rubbed his hand down his beard, scoffing as he said it. “You’re never going to find someone like me.”

“That’s the plan.” You smiled even with tears in your eyes.

“So were really done? You’re not even going to fight for us?” You shrugged your shoulders and placed all all your boxes into the hallway.

“Who is going to help you with everything?” He tried asking. “That’s none of your concern anymore Jack.”

“Seriously? Whatever it’s your loss.” You wanted to look up one last time but you knew better. Once you were out the door you let the tears fall freely.

You were going to miss him but you knew better days were ahead.

————————————————————————

“Seriously Y/N maybe try giving Jack another chance, you know people can change.” Urban stated as the two of you walked together.

Recently Urban has been trying to persuade you to get back together with Jack which you had no idea why he’d wanna do something like that considering Jack’s the one that cheated on you.

“Why do you want the two of us to get back together so bad? He’s the one that cheated on me last time I checked.”

“I mean true but he hasn’t been the same without you Y/N.” You couldn’t help but to roll your eyes because that night you left he sure wasn’t acting like he was going to miss you.

It was silent for a few minutes more the only sound coming from the wind that blew in your direction. “Just maybe meet up with him tomorrow? I kinda told him I’d get you to meet him tomorrow.”

You sighed and faced Urban. “Fine but you owe me.” He smiled. “Thank you I promise he’s changed, he really has.”

All you could do was hope that everything Urban was saying was the truth, you didn’t feel like getting your heartbroken again.

————————————————————————

You were beyond nervous when you pulled up to the restaurant the following day, it’s only been a few months since everything went down with Jack.

You weren’t exactly sure how tonight was going to go but you could only pray for the best. Making your way inside you were immediately greeted by one of the hostesses.

“You’re here for Jack, correct?” You looked around the dimly lit restaurant and was a bit surprised when you saw nobody else dining in.

“Uh yes I’m here with Jack.” The hostess smiled. “Just follow me please.” You nodded and walked behind the hostess till she arrived to a room in the back of the restaurant where Jack was sitting.

“Here we are and I’ll be back in a few to take your orders.” She smiled and you went to take your seat across from Jack.

He smiled at you and leaned back a bit in his seat to get a better look at you, you’d be lying yourself if you said he didn’t look good.

“Y/N.” He said. “Hi Jack.” You whispered and looked around the room seeing it was filled with red roses.

“Did you rent out this entire place for us?” He nodded his head.

“I wanted time alone with you, I’ve had some time to think.” Jack sighed and leaned forward and grabbed your hands.

“I fucked up I really did I should’ve never cheated on you and I apologize for the lack of care and emotion I put into losing you, if you’re willing to give us another chance I promise I won’t mess up.” He stated.

“It’s hard to forgive you. You didn’t just make a small mistake, you slipped and fell into another woman.”

Jack stiffed a laugh, knowing this wasn’t a laughing matter. “It’s okay, you can laugh. I said it that way for a reason. I just want to feel like I can trust you again.”

“I promise you can, I’ll do anything to change your mind.” He sighed, his shoulders dropping with sadness.

You knew you were taking a risk because there was a chance that you’d end up broken hearted again but you did miss him.

“Fine, but if you mess up again I promise I’m breaking everything in your house.” He laughed.

“Sounds like a fair trade to me but I promise there won’t be another time.”

The rest of the night went smoothly the two of you just talking and catching up on lost time.

————————————————————————

You and Jack had started seeing one another again, spending a lot of time together. Something told you not to trust him, and to keep your options open. So you did just that.

Jack on the other hand, had never been in more love with you. He was doing everything right. He was cleaning his schedule to make more time for you and making sure to put you before anything.

You were in the shower, and Jack had just got back from the studio.

"Baby? Where are you?"

He heard the shower going and decided to take the opportunity to look through your jewelry box.

He had been looking at engagement rings, and decided to look around hoping to find your ring size.

Just at that moment, your phone started buzzing uncontrollably. At first, Jack ignored it, not wanting to invade your privacy but when the messages wouldn’t stop he got curious.

He knew your phone passcode, and quickly unlocked it, hoping you wouldn't be done in the shower anytime soon.

He saw the messages and photos exchanged between a man named James, reading the text thread between you and him.

Jack felt his heart breaking as he read how little he meant to you.

"How could I be so stupid?" He thought to himself.

Just then you had turned the water off, hearing the sound of someone in your bedroom.

"Jack? Is that you?"

"Y/N, can you come here?" His voice was shaky.

You had a gut feeling, drying yourself off and putting a robe on immediately.

You stood in the doorframe, watching as Jack continued looking through your phone.

“What’s wrong? You don't like when someone plays the game better than you?" You smirked watching his tears fall.

"Is this what you planned all along?" His face was bright red, as he held back the rush of more tears.

"Sucks doesn't it? Hurts doesn't it?"

You walked toward him, snatching your phone from his hand. "Y/N! I changed! I changed everything for you.”

"Seems like your loss.” you smirked pointing to the door.

[beautifulpersonpeach]

I'm still not over how Jimin put the song 'I Might' by Honne on his 'Jimin Springtime Sounds' playlist earlier last year that talks about two people moving to Tokyo and starting a whole new life there together, away from the craziness of their current ones, and then he went there with Jungkook later the same year. Wild if you ask me

***

This is the kind of jikook ‘coincidence’ that makes people go delulu post haste.

Because what the fuck?

When Jimin’s Apple Music playlist first went up, I thought it was cool Jimin had such interesting taste in music. The ‘I Might’ pick stood out because it was a solid song choice and RM featured on Honne’s Crying Over You, the original of which is on the same album as I Might. It’s one of the best collaboration projects RM/BTS has ever done.

But I didn’t make the jikook connection until you just mentioned it.

Jikook….

Normally I’d write it off as mere coincidence that jikook travelled alone to Tokyo again, presumably for work, and it sorta lines up with the lyrics of that song. And I mean, it’s 2024, it’s kinda passé to still read meaning into lyrics from song recommendations. At least, that’s what I assumed.

But then again… jikook and coincidences are a curious thing.

It’s possible jikook had envisioned enlisting together since the start of last year, and planned their itinerary backwards, fitting in their Tokyo trip late last year as well. The knowledge that they could’ve chosen to enlist together as early as spring 2023, it…

jikook are special.