#reason two: perfectionist

[xamaxenta]

Adds idea number 4629273 to the list of things i would like to do but i probably will not end up doing

[samuraibydjavan]

even tho i love azula and there's no arguing that she's one of the strongest and most skilled benders in the world i don't think she is THE best of them all, especially when compared to iroh and ozai

[anisespice]

“ the fuck-it list ” || hq!

two || three || four

synopsis: there’s a list going around consisting of hot guys on campus that are deemed “fuckable” with theories as to what they’d be like in bed. it’s all fun and games until somehow your boyfriend ends up on this list. 

pairing: various x gn!reader [ kags, akaashi, atsumu, kenma ]

warnings: cursing, suggestive language, mild objectification, mentions of cheating, cringe descriptions that aren’t 100% accurate lol 

notes: based this off how my friend and i speculate about how the men in hq would be like in bed sooo it’s really just a little jokey joke, so have fun with her :] thinking of making more parts of this with other characters, lemme know what you guys think, and hope you enjoy!! 

To be completely honest, KAGEYAMA wouldn’t know much about the list aside from maybe surface level stuff. He knew it was full of nonsensical speculations, nothing but weird projections put onto strangers by other strangers who found them attractive. It creeped him out a little, so that’s as far as he wished to know. 

Plus, he had no reason to care about some dumb list—He had you. 

“Have you seen this bullshit?!”  Well, speak of the devil. 

All the training in the world couldn’t have prepared his reflexes for the amount of whiplash you put him through in the span of ten seconds. There he was, minding his business in his dorm room, chilling with a volleyball, then BAM; he’s getting bum-rushed by his 5-foot-something significant other with smoke coming through their ears.

Good thing you had a key because the setter was certain you would’ve smashed right through his door by sheer force. 

“Huh??” Frankly, you startled the poor man. The ball that was in the middle of being set toward the ceiling came barreling down on his face, causing him more disorientation. “See—ouch. See what?” 

You stood there next to his bed, one hand on your hip while the other practically shoved your phone in his face. He squinted at the harsh light, but eventually his eyes adjusted enough to read the post. His lips formed a confused pout. “That stupid, horny hit-list? What about it?” 

“What about it? Some bitch put you on there! Just listen to this garbage, ‘Tobio Kageyama. 6’2ft stoic, and mean Dom who’s pretty damn good with his hands. It’s obvious how much of a perfectionist he is, so be ready for some killer overstimulation. Probably won’t make any noise, and doesn’t know much about aftercare. Overall score: 6/10’. Are they deadass right now?” 

Ah. Now he gets it. 

He figured it was only a matter of time, homie was very much aware of his status around campus, not to mention being a looker to top it off. However, he figured being in a relationship would lessen his chances of him ending up on it, especially since you weren’t a secret or anything. Guess that list really had no morality after all. Who’d have thought? 

“I mean, the audacity to put your name on it knowing damn well if anyone even tried it, I’d gorilla glue all their holes shut.” He snorted, face scrunching slightly at your unusual threat. But, something told him deep down you were being serious. 

You continued ranting while pacing back and forth. “But not only that, they completely warped your entire sexual identity just because, what, you know how to mind your business and happen to have a RBF?” 

“RBF?” He tilted his head, making you halt mid-rant to admire the adorable sight. How dare he? You were in the middle of seething, dammit. 

“Resting Bitch Face.” 

He frowned. “I don’t have that.” 

“Tobio, you’re doing it right now.”

He huffed, looking away from you in defiance. His face was fine, he thought, a perfectly normal face indeed. A handsome face, he’d even say. Immediately picking up on his sourness, you chuckled softly before reaching over to cup his face and make him look at you. Kageyama instinctively wrapped his arms around your waist, his frown still apparent, but a little less heavy once it met your soft gaze. “Don’t be pouty.”

“I’m not…” he mumbled, cheeks squished under your palms. A small blush bloomed across the apples at your teasing giggle. “You’re the one that’s upset, not me. Why do you care if they misrepresented how I am in bed? Shouldn’t you be happy it’s inaccurate?” 

Now it was your turn to huff, your bottom lip sticking out. Kageyama’s eyes honed in on its pillowy surface instantly, licking his own as he restrained himself; there’d be plenty of time for that later. 

“I mean, yeah but…I don’t know. It just…feels icky knowing there are random people around campus theorizing about your dick size in the comments, or if you cry after an orgasm. The least they could’ve done was be a little accurate if they’re gonna cause us all this trouble.” 

“Us? Pretty sure I’m the victim here. Who sucks at aftercare, apparently.” He scoffed, of which earned another giggle from you. “Besides, the only person I care about knowing any of that stuff is right here. They can take their 6/10 and fuck right off. I know my baby would rate me higher than that, right?” 

You pursed your lips, avoiding eye contact as you playfully ignored his obvious bait for praise. Kageyama doesn’t take too kindly to that. He softly glared at you, arms tightening their hold around your waist and pulling you even closer to his toned chest. 

“Oh, it’s like that, huh? That’s fine.”

Before you could register what happened, your boyfriend swept you up without struggle and gently tossed you onto his bed. “However, I will admit they were right about one thing.” 

With a slight bounce, you couldn’t fight the delighted squeal as you watched him prowl towards you. 

“Oh, really? And what’s that?”

He hummed softly, large hands traveling up your legs from the ankles all the way to your inner thighs before spreading them open to rest in between them. Finding home there for a brief moment, Kageyama practically smothered you under his gaze, attention once again zeroing in on your lips. He could feel his restraint dissipating, biting his own lip before slowly leaning down to place warm kisses against your skin. He left no spot unloved until he eventually stopped at your ear, his warm breath sending chills down your spine. 

“I’m pretty damn good with my hands.” 

Like Kageyama, AKAASHI didn’t care to know much about the list. He knows a good chunk of guys that ended up on it personally, and based on the conversations he’s heard them have it sounded like nothing but trouble. 

And he was right to assume such. 

One afternoon a few of his friends came barreling toward him during his break in between classes, each sporting various expressions that ranged from extreme determination (Bokuto) to absolute amusement (Kuroo), while the third looked as if they were brought there against their will (Kenma). Slowly, Akaashi lowered his sandwich with a sigh; so much for a peaceful lunch. 

“AKAASHI.” Bokuto exclaimed, hands slamming down on the table to keep himself from nearly toppling the man. Akaashi flinched slightly at the volume, but before he could reprimand him, Bokuto grabbed him by his shoulders and looked him square in the eyes with grand intensity. “How could you be so selfish? I thought I raised you better than this, young man!”

The former setter gaped; that’s not at all what he was expecting to hear. It didn’t help when Kuroo started busting a lung, both hands on his knees as his hyena-esque laugh bounced off the walls of the canteen. Kenma side-eyed the business major before going back to playing some game on his phone, offering the ravenette a soft greeting, then helping himself to a chair. 

Akaashi acknowledged the pudding-head with a small nod, sharp eyes redirecting back to his senior as he removed the rough hands from his shoulders. “What are you talking about?” 

“I’m talking about you cheating on [_____]!” 

Akaashi blinked. Then, like a switch, his eyes nearly popped out his head as he registered the spiker’s words.  

“WHAT.” 

Kuroo, after finally catching his breath, gave a hearty exhale as he placed a hand on Bo’s shoulder. “Way to rip off the bandaid, buddy. Thought we agreed to work our way up to that part.” 

“Screw that! I demand answers! Can’t believe I’ve been friends with a no good, cheating scumbag, hmph.” Akaashi blanched at the harsh accusation, falling deeper and deeper into a state of pure shock. 

“Wait, hold on—”

“Whoa there, let’s not jump to conclusions. The man hasn’t even gotten the chance to speak for himself. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for this whole thing.” Kuroo reasoned, but was obviously eating it up. Kenma lightly scoffed.

“You’re so full of shit.” He voiced, not even bothering to lift his gaze away from the game. Kuroo gasped dramatically at the dig, hand over his heart and everything. The former paid him no mind. 

Akaashi abruptly stood. “Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on? I’m not cheating on [______], who’s spreading such a thing?” 

Bokuto squinted. “Oya? Then how do you explain this?” 

Like incriminating evidence being shown to a jury, the silver-haired tank pulled up the updated version of the list on his phone that was posted over an hour ago. Akaashi was still perplexed until he saw it. His name. Oh, god no. 

Akaashi snatched the device to get a closer look just to make sure it wasn’t some sort of prank. To his dismay, the post was legit. Oh, god no. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me…” 

“Uh huh, busted your ass!” Bokuto snatched the phone back only for Kuroo to then take it from him. “Hey!”

Clearing his throat, the sly bastard began reading the caption. “‘Keiji Akaashi. 6’0ft tall, pretty boy with intelligent steel blue eyes. His mysterious nature and bored expression would automatically put him under the Dom category, but I can see right through him.’ Wow, they make you sound like some sort of experiment.” 

“Don’t read that outloud!” Akaashi lunged forward, only to be stopped by a large hand in his face. “Omf-! Fohkuto-son!” 

“What? Ashamed of yourself? You should be, traitor!” 

Kuroo continued. “‘What many would believe to be the strong silent type, I believe there’s a sensitive side to him. That’s why I declare Keiji Akaashi to be a Switch with Sub-leaning tendencies, who’s not afraid to be vocal and would 100% let you peg him. 11/10. Would fuck again.’ Holy shit, this is gold.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Akaashi felt like his entire face was on fire. This was like his worst nightmare come to life, and apparently now everyone on campus could participate in his misery. “This cannot be happening to me…” 

“Oh, me, me, me. Is that really all you can say for yourself? What about [_____], huh? How do you think they’d feel after finding out their boyfriend is an unfaithful—”

“I DIDN’T CHEAT ON MY S/O, BOKUTO-SAN. That isn’t even the purpose of the list, you should know, you’re on it too!” 

Bokuto gaped. “I am??” 

Akaashi groaned, sinking back into his seat. His hands dragged across his face in distress, feeling as if he aged ten years from this mishap alone. But, Bokuto had a point—How were you feeling about all this? Had you seen it?

Luckily, he didn’t need to wonder for long. 

“Keiji!” 

He flinched, as did the two stooges hovering near him. Kenma was the only one to greet you normally while everyone else resembled deer in headlights; this immediately alarmed you. What you expected to be a surprise lunch with your boyfriend since your class let out early, now felt as if you just walked in on an intervention. After taking in the weird atmosphere, you eyed Akaashi with mild confusion. “Uh…is everything okay?”

“It’s all good, [_____]! Turns out my best friend isn’t a scumbag after all. Akaashi is definitely not cheating on you, so no harm done!” 

You did a double-take in bewilderment; didn’t expect that. “O..kay?”

Bokuto looked so proud of his declaration, chest puffed out whilst Kuroo looked like he could barely hold it together. Your boyfriend clearly had seen better days, frown heavy as he glared at his seniors; all he wanted was to eat his goddamn sandwich. 

Eventually, you decided to just take a seat next to him, pulling out your own food while the two former captains began bickering about who knows what. Kenma continued to play his game, happily taking the apple slices you graciously slid over to him as a boost. After you got situated, Akaashi instantly plopped his head right on your shoulder, desiring comfort from the emotional turmoil he just endured. 

You kissed away the stress lines on his forehead before opening up your bento, already having an idea in mind as to what’s gotten him so deflated. But, you spared him any further humiliation—You planned to report that stupid post later anyways. 

You chilled outside the locker rooms waiting for ATSUMU, upon his request to walk you back to the dorms after practice was over. You told him there was no need, that you’d be fine walking back on your own, but he insisted. 

And you were so glad he did. 

While you were waiting, you mindlessly scrolled on Twitter until a familiar username caught your attention; @/FckIt22. Everyone knew of the infamous ‘Horny Bucket List’ going around and boosting already inflated egos, speculating and even sometimes outing people of their most lewd fantasies with popular guys on campus. You couldn’t help but watch the drama unfold every time there’d be a new update to the list, eating it up whenever it’d be someone you knew, or someone you would’ve never guessed to be on it. 

And to your surprise, after you refreshed the page, it was both. Your mouth was slightly ajar when a picture of your boyfriend’s boyish grin greeted you, in his volleyball jersey, soaked with sweat and hair pushed back from his forehead; looking like a full course meal. 

Eagerly, you tapped in to read the thread attached to the image, intrigued to know what was said about Atsumu until… 

“...The fuck?” 

As quick as your excitement came, there it went. Right there, in big letters for the whole campus, no, the entire internet to see was your boyfriend’s face attached with someone else’s name. And not just any someone. 

‘O S A M U   M I Y A’ 

You didn’t know whether to laugh, or what. Could they’ve seriously not been bothered to make sure they had the right twin? And not only that, they mentioned you in the thread. Didn’t bother to @ you, though.

That only pissed you off even further.

‘Osamu Miya. 6’1ft of muscle and charm, whose insatiable appetite won’t be satisfied until he’s had your thighs wrapped around his face for an hour AT LEAST. Not the most expressive, but make no mistake that he’s the ultimate brat tamer; no doubt [______] could attest to that.’

“I know damn well they didn’t just…” You muttered in disbelief, shaking your head as you read on.

‘But, if you’re good, he mayyyy let you top. Don’t think for a second you’re in control tho. Unlike his brother, he’s got Dom energy for daysss. Doubt this man does anything but grunt and groan, but overall he still gets an 8/10. Yum ♡.’ 

Wow.

You weren’t expecting to see your future brother-in-law painted in this light today, but supposed there was a first for everything. To be fair, whomever ran the account sure knew how to sell a fantasy, but it didn’t excuse the lack of decorum they had. You felt a little disturbed, almost violated. One could only imagine how the twins would feel if they saw this…

“Hey there, stranger.” You jumped slightly at the sudden intrusion; speak of the devil. Atsumu wrapped his arms around your middle from behind, placed his chin on your shoulder, and gave a loving squeeze. “Ya ready?” 

“Uh, yeah.” You quickly locked your phone.

A little too quick. 

A small pout formed on his face. He immediately called you out. “What’re ya lookin’ at?” 

“Hm?”

“Your phone, y’were lookin’ at something.” Noticing your shifty behavior, his grip around you loosened a little as he strained his neck to look you square in the face. It wasn’t long before a teasing grin spread across his. His eyebrows wiggled, “Ya lookin’ at porn?” 

With a roll of your eyes, you lightly jabbed him in his bicep. “Yeah, ‘Tsumu. I was totally looking at porn. You got me.”  

Atsumu shrugged, sporting an even bigger grin as he started to sway both of you. “Hey, no judgement here. But don’t forget ya got the real deal right here, darlin’. Whenever you need it, your lovely boyfriend will take care of ya. All’s ya gotta do is ask.”

He spun you around in his hold, and grabbed your hips. With low, tired eyes he stared deeply into your soul. His lopsided grin brought more damage to your already fluttering heart, not to mention his semi that was now pressed against your stomach; this man had been dying to have you in his arms for a while, it seemed. However, even with this sexual tension growing between the two of you...you just couldn’t help yourself. 

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, Osamu.”

Immediately, his grin dropped. You did your best to remain stoic, but the absolute disgust that took over his face was just too good. Your body began to shake with laughter, small snickers escaping you as you bit your lip to hold it back. Atsumu was not amused.

“That joke wasn’t funny back in high school, [______], still ain’t funny now…”

“Oh, this is no joke. As of today, my boyfriend’s Osamu Miya, and apparently he’s my brat-tamer. Did you know that he won’t even let me top unless I’ve been good-?”

“Knock it off.” Atsumu glared, gently pinching your sides. You squirmed, but the teasing smile you had didn’t falter. “What’s gotten into ya? Tryin’ to get a rise outta me or somethin’?”

“Oh, you haven’t seen it yet?”

“Seen what?”

You unlocked your phone and showed him the thread. Atsumu held a look of utter confusion, squinting at it until it eventually registered what you were showing him. He’d heard about the list that circled around on campus, some of his friends and teammates used to brag, or complain about it to him when they ended up on it. At first, he found it entertaining…but now?

“THE FUCK?”

He snatched the phone out of your hands to get a closer look, catching on to what you’d originally been hiding from him in the beginning; Atsumu wished it had been porn.

“That’s what I said!” You laughed, incredulously. “The nerve of them to just mix the two of you up like that. And to add me into it without even bothering to tag me? Probably ‘cause they knew I’d call them out on their bullshit. Can you believe-”

“‘Unlike his brother, he’s got Dom energy for days’?? I totally have Dom energy! We’re fucking twins, why wouldn’t I? And ‘Samu ain’t no brat-tamer! If anythin’, he’s the goddamn brat.” Somewhere on campus, Osamu sneezed.

You stood there in bewilderment. That’s what he’s concerned about? 

Crossing your arms, you watched him in astonishment. “So, you don’t care that they used your picture? Or the insinuation that I sleep with your brother?”

“‘Course I do! Ya think I like the idea of his filthy mouth being anywhere near you? And usin’ my picture to clickbait my supporters is just cheap. But nothin’ pisses me off more than anyone thinkin’ that bastard has better game than me. 8/10 my ass…”

You snorted. Why were you not surprised?

Taking a small step closer you grabbed his wrist and lowered it, bringing his attention away from the phone. Atsumu now wore a heavy pout, one that you couldn’t help but to kiss; so you did. With a free hand you reaching up to his nape and pulled him downward, capturing his lips. Catching him off guard, man nearly dropped your phone when your tongue slipped into his mouth. With a soft groan, Atsumu wrapped an arm around your waist as he tilted his head in response to your sudden affection, deepening the kiss as it instantly made his mind go blank.

You pulled away too soon for his liking, the blonde blindly chasing after you with his eyes still closed as a light chuckle escaped you. You thumbed at his bottom lip, wiping some of the spit left behind as he slowly opened his eyes. Atsumu’s honey-gaze seared right into you, the hunger from early returning as the semi he sported was now fully hard, thick and heavy as it pressed against your stomach—So fucking whipped, after just one kiss. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Gazing at him lovingly, your nails raked gently through his hair as he practically melted into you. For a moment, you thought he’d start purring.

“What do they know, huh? How about you take me to my dorm and remind me why Atsumu Miya, my lovely boyfriend, is the only one who takes good care of me. Then, we’ll put that account on blast afterwards, what d’you say?”

His boyish grin reappeared, leaning in to place his forehead on yours. “Thought you’d never ask.”

KENMA felt indifferent about the list. Nothing about it made sense to him, and he left it at that. It didn’t matter how many times his friends brought it up, or how many people whispered about it during lectures—He had no opinion on it. 

“You’re not even a little curious?” Hinata asked.

“No. Not in the slightest.”

The two of them were chilling in the canteen, in the student gaming section, both occupied with their own respective poisons. While Hinata farmed pixelated fruit on his switch, Kenma battled npcs on the public-shared ps4. The copper-head talked on and on about trivial subjects since they’ve arrived, ranging from tough assignments he nearly failed to new moves he tried in volleyball, while the quieter of the two responded occasionally when he felt it necessary. 

Hinata gasped, looking up from his game in genuine surprise. “Whoa, Bakayama said the exact same thing. You and him are probably one of the few guys I know who aren’t interested in knowing if they’re on the list. Well, you two and Suckyshima. And Sakusa-san...and...”

This went on for a good minute. 

Kenma sighed, neutral expression not matching the rapid movement of his thumbs across the controller. “It’s just some dumb list. Not like it benefits anyone.”

“Sure it does! I heard it brought lots of people together,” Hinata paused, tilting his head as he hummed in thought. “Although, I also heard it split people up, too. And caused a lot of rumors…and got that one professor fired…”

Yet another minute, passed. 

Kenma couldn’t help but snort, at least finding his rambling endearing enough to stomach yet another pointless conversation about that accursed list—Why people were so obsessed with it was beyond him. 

“Sounds like a lot of drama. No thanks.”

There’s silence between the two of them, the sound effects from their games being the only thing filling the space. Kenma continued rapidly mashing buttons, tongue sticking out as he concentrated on the level. However, he couldn’t help but feel like they were being watched. They were in a public space, sure, but…something definitely felt off. Choosing to ignore it, he refocused on the game. Hinata just finished up harvesting his watermelons when he suddenly let out a teasing chuckle.

“I wonder if [______] checked.”

Kenma’s thumbs stop. His character was taking incredible amounts of damage, but none of it registered after the mere mention of your name; the pudding-head flushed red. After a moment, he regained composure and went back to smashing buttons, ignoring how slippery his hands just got.  

 “…Why would they do that?” He muttered. 

Hinata shrugged, “Well, just because you’re not curious doesn’t mean they aren’t. Believe it or not, you’re a good looking guy, Kenma-san. And if there’s a fuck-list going around where my s/o might end up on it, I’d wanna be the first to know.”

Hm. Couldn’t argue with that. He always feared you’d end up on the list, but eventually realized it only catered to a certain demographic, mostly focused on the more sociable students, so he figured there was no other reason to care. It’d be a waste of time, Kenma knew for a fact there’d be no chance of him being on it, his outward appearance be damned.

He practically spent his first couple of semesters cooped up in his room, going to class, bare minimum socializing, streamed with his camera off, rinsed and repeated. He didn’t make many new friends during that time, and met you completely by happenstance during a late night cram session in the library; how in the fresh hell would anyone think about fucking him if he rarely gave other people the time of day? 

Kenma kissed his teeth, “You’re being annoying.”

Hinata merely flashed a bright grin, leaning over to playfully poke him in the arm. “Don’t mind~!” 

The dirty-blonde playfully swatted at the intruding hand, earning a bright laugh and another poke from the ginger just for shits n’ giggles, before he returned back to his video game. Unfortunately, the eyes around him didn’t falter, some being less obvious about it whilst others didn’t even try to hide their blatant staring. After a while it started to get uncomfortable, even Hinata couldn’t help getting concerned once he started to notice.

“Uh…is it just me, or are we drawing in a crowd?”

“I dunno. Maybe they’re just waiting for me to get off the game…” Kenma reasoned. But deep down, something told him that wasn’t the case at all.

After some time passed with the situation not getting any better, he decided to just call it a night. There was no point in trying to relax anymore with all those people pointing and whispering. As he began to leave the game, not bothering to save his progress, his phone buzzed. Immediately, Kenma knew it had to have been you—He kept everyone else on DND. When he unlocked his phone, though, the gamer was shocked to see the overwhelming amount of notifications on the screen, all from his closest friends, minus the one he’s currently with. 

It appeared they’d been trying to get his attention for a while. You must’ve been the last resort, as your message urged him to meet at your place.  He didn’t need to be told twice, grateful for this escape from the prying eyes of the random bystanders. 

“I’m heading over to [_____]’s. Sorry to cut our time short.” 

The ginger simply smiled. “It’s okay, know you don’t like crowds. See ya later, Kenma-san!” 

Kenma curtly nodded, offering a tiny smile in gratitude. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he made haste for the nearest exit, keeping his gaze locked on the ground until he made it outside. He could feel the eyes following him as he left, making a cold chill run down his spine. He couldn’t wait to get to your place.

When he eventually arrived, his knuckle barely grazed the door before it flew wide open, startling him a little. Before he even had time to catch his jumping heart, you pulled him into your embrace, making him tense up slightly until he soon melted into your familiar warmth. Sanctuary. 

“I’m so sorry, Ken. You must be devastated.” 

“Um, I’m fine...” he mumbled. Your arms only grew a little tighter around him, as if you were…shielding him? Eventually you pulled back just enough to look at him, searching his eyes for something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “Why would I be devastated?”

You blinked widely at him. “You mean you hadn’t seen it?”

He squinted, visibly confused, and your silence did little to calm his wariness. Another cold chill traveled down his spine, hairs on the back of his neck standing straight up as he struggled to figure out what this feeling meant. It wasn’t until after you gave a strained smile, sympathy swirling within your gaze, did it eventually hit him like a semi truck. The flooded messages, the suffocating stares, the whispers...It couldn’t be. 

He slowly began to shake his head. “No...”

You exhaled. “Yes.”

‘Kenma Kozume. 5′6ft recluse with the mannerisms of a kitten. But don’t let his meek demeanor fool you—it’s always the quiet ones you need to look out for. Though his posture may appear questionable, we all know it’s because of the monster between his legs dragging him down, baggy clothes no doubt concealing an absolute masterpiece of toned skin for you to mark up. The effort he puts into playing video games, don’t expect the same amount in the bedroom. I believe Kenma to be a lazy Switch with Sub energy, who’ll spend most of the session on his back, but that’s okay. We stan a pillow prince. 9/10.’

He looked at your phone with mild disgust. “You’re fucking joking.”

“'fraid not. It was posted less than an hour ago, probably while you were gaming with Hinata. Kuroo was the first to see it, and sent it to the groupchat. That’s why I assumed you had seen it already. Dammit, I knew someone would notice how hot you were sooner or later. And here I thought I was doing a good job gate-keeping you. ”

“Don’t just say stuff like that out loud...” He flushed, tugging on your sleeve in mild embarrassment. After composing himself, Kenma let out an irritated exhale. “What a pain. Whatever, this’ll probably blow over by tomorrow. Someone else will be posted and they’ll forget all about me. Guess I’ll just keep an even lower profile until then. Shouldn’t be too difficult.” 

Laying together on your Snorlax beanbag chair, Kenma turned on his stomach to bury himself in the plush cushion, wanting to forget this whole nightmare. But, you weren’t gonna let him wallow so easily. Tugging on the shoulder part of his sleeve to get his attention, Kenma groaned before tilting his head slightly to peek at you with one eye through the curtain of his hair. 

“You don’t understand, Ken. Bitches practically froth at the mouth for the sexy, socially awkward, gamer-boy type with the messy hair and lax attitude. I would know, I am bitches!” He snickered softly, rolling his visible eye. “My point is, this most definitely will not blow over by tomorrow. Not when they’re already hooked on the fantasy of you.”

“Exactly, a fantasy.” He said, slightly muffled. Shifting to lay on his back, Kenma rested his arms behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. “Meaning they’ll never get to know the real thing, so eventually they’ll get bored. You shouldn’t work yourself up over this, kitten.” 

“Yeah, but what if someone-” 

Reaching over, Kenma gently flicked your forehead. With a soft yelp, you half-heartedly glared at him before going to retaliate with your own flick. He merely grinned, eyes full of mirth as he swiftly grabbed the hand and used it to pull you in closer. “They won’t. And even if they do, I'll just get Kuroo to tell one of his lame jokes to scare ‘em off. Problem solved.” 

You lightly hit his arm, but still graced him with a laugh. Somewhere on campus, said rooster-head sneezed. 

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[fvsm4x]

☆FIRST LOVE [Gojo Satoru]

☆ SUMMARY: Months have passed since you slept with Gojo. And during that time, gojo seemed to avoid you, hurting your feelings in exchange without knowing.

— C.W: Gojo Satoru x female reader , angst to fluff

— WORD COUNT: 2k+

— TAGLIST: @starlightanyaaa @froufrousnowman @101strawberries101 @dazaisfavgf @the-lazy-perfectionist @prettyfacedream

JJK MLIST | GOJO SATORU MLIST

It has been a considerable amount of time since the last interaction you had with Gojo. Days turned into weeks, and then a whole month passed by. And now, two months have gone by since that unforgettable night when the two of you shared an intimate connection after getting a little too tipsy in a bar.

However, ever since that night, something changed. Gojo started to distance himself from you, avoiding any kind of interaction and making a conscious effort to stay out of your way. It's as if he's intentionally ignoring your presence, and any attempts to reach out to him through calls or texts are met with silence, with the messages sitting in the "delivered" status but never being read.

The pain in your heart is almost unbearable. You find yourself constantly questioning what went wrong, racking your brain for any possible misstep or disappointment that could have caused this sudden shift in Gojo's behavior. The thought that the night you shared was a mistake weighs heavily on your mind, causing immense emotional distress and self-doubt.

What makes this pain even more agonizing is the fact that you have harbored deep feelings for Gojo since your teenage years. From the moment you first laid eyes on him, there was an undeniable attraction and admiration that only grew stronger with time. The realization that he may not feel the same way about you is a devastating blow to your heart and soul.

But you find it difficult to place the blame solely on Gojo. After all, he is not just an ordinary person. In the world of jujutsu sorcerers, he holds immense importance and influence. He is widely recognized as the strongest sorcerer, possessing unparalleled strength and abilities. Not only that, but he has been blessed with not just one, but two curse techniques, making him a force to be reckoned with. His very existence has the power to shift the delicate balance of the world.

In contrast, you see yourself as someone insignificant in comparison. While you do possess the ability to see curses, just like Gojo, you feel like a mere observer in the grand tapestry of the jujutsu world. You don't hold any significant position or power, and you struggle to find a sense of usefulness or importance in comparison to someone like Gojo.

But little did you know, gojo had a reason for doing so.

Ever since that night you two shared, gojo started to harbor feelings, he had never felt before, it felt weird. As if butterflies were flying around in his stomach and his heart always skipping a beat when he sees you.

The mere thought of you brought a deep blush to his cheeks, and he couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness whenever he was in your presence. It was as if his entire world had been turned upside down, and he couldn't quite comprehend the intensity of these newfound emotions.

He had never experienced this kind of feeling before, and he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. It was a strange sensation that consumed him, making him feel like he was on the verge of death if he didn't see you. Thinking he might be sick, he sought out Shoko and poured out his troubles to her.

Sitting in front of Shoko, who calmly sipped her warm coffee, he couldn't contain his panic any longer. "Shoko, I think something's wrong with me. I feel like I'm dying!" he exclaimed, jumping up from his chair and pacing back and forth in the room.

"The mighty Gojo Satoru is sick? That's a first," she joked, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. It was rare to see the strongest sorcerer in such a state of distress.

"I'm serious, Shoko! Every time I see her, I feel strange... My face turns red, my stomach does somersaults, and my heart skips a beat!" he whined, desperation evident in his voice. "Am I going to die, Shoko?"

Shoko looked at him with wide eyes, taking a moment to process his words before asking, "Do you mean y/n?"

Gojo nodded, his expression filled with worry. "Yeah..."

Setting her coffee down on a nearby table, Shoko turned to Gojo with a mischievous smirk. "Oh no! You‘re going to die satoru." she sarcastically exclaimed.

Gojo's eyes dropped immediately as his panic intensified. "What? But I can't die yet... I'm still young."

Narrowing her eyes at him, Shoko chuckled softly. Gojo approached her, placing his hands on either side of her, trapping her against the chair. "Why are you laughing?!" he shouted, his grip on the chair tightening.

"Do you want to know the name of your sickness, Satoru?" Shoko asked, leaning against her palm.

"Of course!" he replied eagerly.

"You're lovesick," she stated matter-of-factly.

Gojo's eyes widened at her words. Lovesick? Did that mean he was in love with you? The mere thought of it caused his face to flush a deep shade of red. "W-what!? No, I'm not in love with her," he denied, his voice wavering.

"Look at you, all embarrassed... I can't believe the all-mighty Gojo Satoru has finally fallen in love," Shoko sighed. "I feel bad for y/n."

"What am I supposed to do?! I've never been in love before," Gojo whined, his distress evident.

"Well, talk to her more often, take her out on dates... I don't know much about love, I've never experienced it myself, who knows maybe she‘s feeling the same." Shoko suggested.

"But... I've been ignoring her for the past two months," Gojo confessed.

"Oh," Shoko facepalmed. "Why are you so stupid.“

„I‘m not stupid!“

Suddenly, the door swung open, and you entered the room, clutching some medical papers in your arms. "Shoko, I got the-" you began, but your words trailed off as you looked up and took in the scene before you.

Your heart momentarily stopped as you saw Shoko sitting in the chair, with Gojo leaning over her, his hands on either side of the chair, effectively trapping her inside. A wave of unease washed over you. Had you interrupted something? They were too close for your comfort, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was something going on between them. Was that why Gojo had been ignoring you?

The pain in your heart was palpable, and your once bright smile faded into a crestfallen expression. With a heavy sigh, you cast your gaze downward, unable to bear the sight before you any longer. "Sorry for interrupting," you managed to utter, your voice laced with disappointment and a hint of resignation. "I'll bring the papers back later." Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heels, your footsteps heavy with a mix of sadness and frustration, and closed the door with a loud thud.

"Wait!" you heard a voice call out from behind the door, but you continued walking away, unable to bear the sight of them together. The sound of their voices faded as you distanced yourself from the room.

Meanwhile, inside the room, Gojo removed himself from the chair and took a step back, his gaze fixed on the closed door where you had stood just moments ago. His thoughts were interrupted by a voice, breaking through his contemplation.

"Don't drag me into this," Shoko's voice cut through the silence, her eyes boring into Gojo's. He met her gaze with a glare, unsure of how to respond.

"She probably misunderstood. Go talk to her before it's too late," Shoko advised, her tone firm. "Now, whoosh," she added, pointing her finger towards the door. "Get out."

—-

Over the next few days, something strange happened. Instead of Gojo avoiding you, you found yourself avoiding him. Even though Shoko had encouraged him to talk to you, he still kept his distance. Deep down, Gojo knew he was in love with you, but he didn't know how to act around you.

He was scared of doing something wrong and embarrassing himself. He couldn't quite grasp the fact that he was in love with you. He thought it was just a small crush that would eventually fade away, but it didn't. Every day, he felt more desperate to talk to you, but he couldn't bring himself to approach you.

Then, one day, you bumped into him while he was on his way to a mission. You couldn't take it anymore. Your heart hurt every time you wanted to talk to him but held back. The constant avoidance had taken a toll on you, and the pain of unspoken affection had become unbearable. You couldn't bear the uncertainty anymore and wanted to confess your feelings to Gojo, even if it meant facing rejection. You just wanted closure, hoping that even if he didn't feel the same way, you could move on from this torment.

So, there you were, standing behind Gojo as he walked towards the car that would take him on his mission. He was avoiding you again, but this time, you decided to take a leap of faith. You called out to him, "Satoru!" He flinched and turned to meet your gaze.

"Satoru," you spoke with a shaky breath, "You know, back in our teenage years, I had this crush on you. Silly, right? I mean, I never thought it would lead anywhere. We were friends, and I kept my feelings under wraps. Fast forward to that night we spent together – it felt like a breakthrough. I let myself hope that maybe, just maybe, there was something more between us. But then you started avoiding me like I had the plague, and it hit hard. But, you know, I tried to brush off the awkwardness, thinking maybe I misread things. Yet, every time we crossed paths, it felt like there was this unspoken tension, a lingering question that neither of us dared to ask. I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted, and it was driving me crazy. So, here's the deal, Satoru – If you don't see us as more than friends, I want you to say it. I'm not asking for poetic rejection; I just need the truth. So, Satoru, whether it's a yes or a no, I just need to hear it. I'm not looking for pity or grand gestures, just a straightforward answer.“

Your breath hitched with each word. Your gaze, usually steady, faltered, found solace in staring at the ground, avoiding the intensity of his eyes.

Gojo's eyes widened in surprise as your words hit him. He turned around completely, staring at you in disbelief. His breath hitched, and he felt his heart racing unexpectedly. Your confession catched him off guard,

In an instant, Gojo's initial disbelief transformed into a genuine smile, a glimmer of happiness breaking through. Without a second thought, he closed the distance, wrapping you in a tight embrace. Your attempt to speak was interrupted by his sudden hug,

"I've been an idiot for avoiding this for so long." He whispered

You tried to gently push him back, insisting, "I just need an answer, satoru" but Gojo held on,

"That scene you saw with Shoko wasn't what it seemed," he admitted, a sheepish smile forming. "I was actually talking to her about my feelings for you. I realized I've been an idiot for not realizing it sooner." He continued, "After that night we spent together, I started feeling all weird – butterflies and my heart doing somersaults. I thought I was sick or something, so I avoided you. Stupid, right? But now, I don't want to run away from it anymore. I like you, Y/N."

Your eyes widened at Gojo's unexpected confession. The weight of the unspoken feelings suddenly lifted, "Wait, you... like me?" you stammered, trying to process his words. Gojo chuckled, his hand rubbing the back of his neck

"Yeah, more than I thought. I was just too dense to realize it. And I'm sorry for avoiding you; I thought I was going crazy with those feelings."

Gojo, still smiling, took a step closer. "So, how about we stop avoiding and start enjoying these feelings?" he suggested, his gaze softening. Without waiting for a response, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a gentle, yet lingering kiss.

[daydreamcloudshiding]

#5 Astrology Observations

People with Lilith conjunct personal planet(s) really triggers jealously in others so easily. They could just be sitting somewhere doing nothing and just breathes and that sh*t really trigger people

Mercury in 8th house in Solar Return Chart means that there will be circumstances where you will have no choice but to be honest about your deepest feelings and thoughts. You will also be able to see through other people's lies and their thought patterns

Nessus doesn't always means an abuser or someone who will abuse you. It can show someone who, regardless of intentions, might put you in dangerous situations even without them meaning to. They also will be the one who might lead you to make wrong decisions or giving advice that will ruin your life

Aquarius Moon people are not robots without feelings. They are detached, but they often feel things intensely too, especially when it comes to social issues that they care about. They just don't have that warmth that their opposite, Leo Moon, have. Leo Moons that I know are so expressive and have this need to constantly express, make it known. But not Aquarius Moon. I suspect that oftentimes due to their detachment, they intelectualise their feelings so much

Sister signs can play each other's characters so well in movie roles. A Virgo can act like a Pisces so well, all their somewhat innocent or idealistic tendencies, and a Pisces can act like a Virgo so well, all with their perfectionistic and goody-two shoes demeanour

The easiest to find someone that you can get along with, almost with no effort, is someone who's Sun Signs conjunct your Moon Sign. The moon person feels deeply understood even without the Sun person trying to, and the Sun person represent all the things that the Moon person feels like always has (internally) but perhaps too shy to express outwardly

You will easily connect with the sign that the dominant sign that you have on your Solar Return Chart (for ex. you have a lot of Leo in your SR chart, you will easily connect with Leos)

You know what I find interesting with 8th house synastry? Once you experience this with someone, this create some sort of a pattern in your life that you must break. So for ex. you have abandonment issues with someone that you have 8th house synastry with. Even after you break up with them, this abandonment issues will show up again in your next relationship, even if there is no 8th house synastry with this new person. This 8th house synastry is giving you the chance to truly see your weaknesses/issues and heal them, or you will continue this pattern

Juno-Sun synastry, it's usually the Sun person who is so attracted to the Juno person. The Juno person unconsciously see that the Sun person has what they need in a partner, but the Sun person will see the Juno person as someone who represents the ideal partner (like they oh so perfect for me)

In my experience, Libras are type of people who would pick a bad company rather than being alone. Even if those friends or s/o hates them or abuse them, Libra would pick them, just so that they don't have to be alone. It's one of the reason why they have these people-pleaser tendencies. It's pathetic, really. Because the second you can't be with them all time, they will choose someone else and talk sh*t about you just to please others, while you may not be there for them all the time but you have more heart or loyalties. I'm sorry if this upsets some people, but this is my experience with them.

People with Lilith in 8th house in the natal chart are usually the ones that keep the secrets that's not even theirs to begin with. They have this aura about them that tells people that they are trustworthy, and will take these secrets to the grave. And they are, but I think it's unfair to them. Sometimes these secrets are dangerous and burdensome to them mentally. I wish that people will just keep their own secrets rather than telling others and ask these people to keep these secrets that they can't even keep themselves.

People with Mercury in Scorpio really out here thinking that they can read other people's mind while the truth is that is their own paranoia. I've heard about Scorpio placement being paranoid, but the mercury is really the worst. They will ended up accusing others of f*cked up things, and when they can't provide prove except (it's my intuition), their ego get bruised so bad.

[extemts]

im BEGGING for some joost hurt to comfort!! something like hes having a bad day and when the reader tries to help him hes js so overwhelmed he snaps at the reader but like in the end they make up and stuff

Valentine, my decline is so much better with you.

I love love love hurt to comfort!! This goes hand in hand with another request I had! That being said, go give your loved ones a hug and tell them you love them. requested? yes! reader? gender neutral! genre? hurt to comfort, arguing, eventual fluff

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"Fuck!"

The cursing coming from the other end of your apartment today couldn't be counted on both hands anymore. Joost was two days away from releasing a single he wasn't even happy with as of now.

A few months ago you decided to finally move in together and since both of you had rather stable jobs, looking for an extra room to get your boyfriend a studio at home made sense. It gave him the chance to really focus on his music at a a place he felt comfortable at, and on top he could always ask for your opinion on something, if you weren't currently at work, where you wish you would be at right now. You decided to only take a short shift today, wanting to get home and relax, but your boyfriend had been tense the whole day, which you really didn't blame him for, but you knew he was a perfectionist when it came to his music. He had a bad habit of being rather unresponsive whenever he was really focusing on his work, meaning a tab on the shoulder while he had loud music blaring through his headphones, with his computer screen being a mess of snippets and recordings for a song, it would totally send him over the edge of sensory overload. Today was one of those days where it seemed really bad for him. He fed himself into a hole of hating a perfectly good, soon to be released, single and now he was stuck in a loophole of fixing things that didn't need to be fixed, being satisfied with them, and then when listening to it again, suddenly hating the entire thing. You have tried to offer him your help or comfort several times today, but he always declined it, yet seemed grateful for your care. It got so bad that you had to pull his chair out of the room for him to come eat dinner with you, and only if you could eat while laying on the couch so he could cuddle with you, which he desperately needed today.

You were in no way upset with him or this situation, at least not for the reasons one might be, but instead the fact that he had promised both himself and you to stop listening to upcoming releases three days prior to the date they were supposed to come out, because that was the time where his brain decided to convince him half of what he just created over months was absolute shit. There was nothing you could really do to help him, except make sure he at least remembered his basic needs like eating and sleeping.

You tried to calm yourself down and try not to worry too much about him, taking a deep breath before you heard anything curse word coming from his studio, followed by a loud shatter, and rather quiet whimpers which convinced you to go check on him one more time. When you opened the door you managed to figure out what happend- he knocked over a glass and it seemed to have cut his finger just a little. "Hun, are you okay? Let me help you." you quickly grab a few tissues to place on his finger as you tried to calm him down but he seemed to have been pushed over the edge completely with this. "I don't need your help! I told you, I dont want help, I don't need it, I am perfectly fine! Please just stop interrupting me for fucks sake." the first thing he said to you in hours and its you getting yelled at for trying to help the poor overworked man? You throw the rest of the tissues at Joost for him to care for his own issues now. "Deal with it yourself." you ended up leaving him right where we was, trying to hold back tears as you let yourself fall onto your bed, wanting to scream into the nearest pillow. This wasn't a side you knew from him, because he really never got mad at you. As much as you wanted not to have to blame him, this was beyond unnecessary.

The tears start flowing, your hands clutched against the pillow as you curl up on your side of the bed. You weren't necessarily crying about being yelled at, you were a tough one afterall, but more so the fact that he worries you so much and what you get for offering help ends up being disrespect.

You were barely even awake a few hours later, having spent the evening by scrolling through various social media apps just to distract yourself. Right when you decided to stop waiting for your boyfriend and head to sleep, you felt the dip in the mattress next to you, meaning Joost had decided to finish for today. He turns arond to face you, or more so your back, to carefully brush some hairs out of your face, allowing you to feel the new bandaid on his finger. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you." he eventually huffed, his voice quiet enough not to disturb you, even though you clearly weren't asleep. His voice was raspy, barely even audible- maybe from crying, maybe from recording vocals all day. Slowly, you turn back around to face him, your hands holding onto the blanket. "I got lost in the single and broke our promise. You just wanted to help but I was so overwhelmed and then it just all tipped over- I'm really sorry." Joost rubs his eyes as he finishes his sentence, the tear stains quite obvious on his face. You only wrap your arms around him to pull yourself close to him, feeling the need for being close. "It was unnecessary but it happens to everyone some times... Thank you for apologising."

With that, you fell victim to being covered in kisses.

JOOOOST IS BAAAAACK

anyways i hope this was good xoxo

[vivalabunbun]

As You Are, I Am Too

Summary: If we compare people to magnets, opposites attract and sames repel, so why are two stoic faces paired as soulmates?

Word Count: 15.4k (why are you surprised at this point, get some snacks)

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem! Reader, Smut(r18+), NFSW, MDNI, Modern AU, Soulmate AU, Mutual Pinning, Fluff, Slow Burn, Slow fic, Perfectionist! Reader, angst, arranged pairing, TW: Toxic family, unhappy childhood trauma, child of strained marriage trauma, TW: Themes of self-loathing, themes of infidelity(misunderstanding), toxic work environment, slight workplace harassment, pushy boss, slightly yandere! Alhaitham?, Soft! Alhaitham, second chance romance?, slightly bratty! reader, Dom! Alhaitham, Degradation, Heavy adult themes, attempts at comedy

Author Note: This is experimental, I want to explore if two same sides of a magnet can still attract. I want to explore the fumbles and mistakes of love.

Side Note: Here is a continuation

Do you believe in soulmates?

It’s nothing to be ashamed of if you do. Because who doesn’t want to believe in it? The concept of an ‘other half’, a missing piece that completes you. Someone who loves you and only you unconditionally.

Who doesn’t want to experience that? 

To be loved, to be accepted, and to feel whole are all natural human desires. So it’s no surprise society, regardless of the century, culture, or demographic all obsessed over finding that other half.

To find a hand that fits perfectly within the gaps of one’s own. 

The greatest minds in all of Tevyat came together, analyzing each pattern, quantifying each data point, and testing each hypothesis until their magnum opus was created: The Akasha System.

Taking the work out of fate’s hands and into a large database. 

What criteria did this wonderful system use to piece together two halves of a whole? Who knows, it’s a black box. However, the machine was quite smart, quite quick, and quite accurate.

So much so, there was no reason not to use it. 

Humans, no matter how much some might deny it, despise being lonely. They fear it so much they’d rather hold a hand which strangles theirs with an equally crushing grip.

That’s why people rush toward their soulmates the moment the Akasha finds them, they fear being alone. 

But do you believe in soulmates?

“No.” Alhaitham puts down his drink.

“But you still used the Akasha??” Kaveh juts a finger in the direction of an ashen-haired man.

“And?” Disinterested eyes glance at the time displayed on a clock in the rowdy bar.

“And?! What do you mean and? You just said you don’t believe in soulmates!” The slam of Kaveh’s palms on the table made a bit of beer lap over the edge of his cup.

“I don’t believe in soulmates, but I’m not ignorant to the benefits of marriage.” 

“Huh?” 

“It’s convenient.” The blunt statement rolling off Alhaitham’s tongue as he motions for the tab.

“Ugh, you know what, forget it.” Kaveh chases his heavy sigh with a hearty swig of his cup.

“Well then, I’ll call it a night.” He’s stayed out long enough.

Placing a handful of mora on the table to cover his tab, Alhaitham bids goodnight to his two workplace acquaintances and former college roommate.

He swiftly strides towards the creaky tavern door, swinging it open as he steps into the warm Summer evening. Tomorrow is another workday, better to get an adequate amount of rest.

“Still the same even after a full year with her, huh,” Kaveh sighs dryly.

“Did you really think he’d change after marriage, Kaveh?” Cyno finally chipped in from the sidelines. 

“I should’ve known, someone as egotistical as Alhaitham practically married himself.” 

“Now, now, his wife is nowhere as egotistical as him,” Tighnari says over the rim of his glass. 

Cyno and Kaveh paused for a moment, sharing a glance as they considered Tighnari’s observation. With a shrug, they concluded: you weren’t nearly as egotistical as Alhaitham.

Still, the great mystery remains. 

“How is he the first to marry?” The blond bachelor slumps further on the tavern stool. 

“Life is full of wonders.” The ebony-haired bachelor gave a few comforting pats.

———————————————————————————

Unlocking the solid oak front door, Alhaitham steps into the serenity of a quiet house. Good, his ears were slightly buzzing from the boisterous conversation in a crowded bar.

Taking a few more steps into the entranceway, the man shuts the door behind his body.

The dull gossip over a few rounds of drinks made their influence known to him, he just wants to go to bed. Thus he takes a few more steps toward his bedroom.

“Place your shoes into the closet, I just mopped the floors.” A level voice called out from the living room. 

Alhaitham’s movement halts, quickly glancing down at the Oxford shoes still on his feet, taking note of the spotless floorboards.

Wordlessly, Alhaitham unties the laces allowing him to kick them off with ease, placing them onto the shoe rack just behind a closet door. 

It’s a habit that slips his mind every now and then despite a year of marriage; Surprisingly unsurprising when you take into consideration his busy mind.

However, times were different now, he’s no longer a kid, free to be lost in thought. He’s now a homeowner of a spacious house, a space he shares with you, and you liked things clean. 

Not a speck of dust lingered on surfaces, no plates left in the sink, and books pristinely placed on organized shelves. Qualifications that he deemed exceptional for a life partner.

Now with slipper-clad steps, Alhaitham makes his way through the house, peering into the living room to spot your curled figure reading on a sofa. The warm glow of a floor lamp illuminated the soft curves of your cheek. 

“Is something the matter?” You didn’t look up from the page as you addressed him. 

“No, just heading to bed.” 

“Okay, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

The start and finish of tonight’s conversation, after all, you valued a quiet house as much as he did. His colleague’s words weren’t without merit, even Alhaitham isn’t stubborn enough to deny the obvious.

Hobbies identical to each other, books upon books lined up along numerous shelves, preferring to stay within the walls of this house unless dragged out by friends. 

Your indecipherable gaze and stiff lips rival his own stone face. Perhaps that’s why the Akasha paired the two of you together. Two beings with stoic faces only another stoic would bear for a life partner, like two sides of the same coin. 

Alhaitham stops unbuttoning his shirt behind his shut bedroom door, reanalyzing the previous statement. Actually, that isn’t a very good analogy.

It'd be more accurate to compare you and him to a double-sided mirror that reflected only one view. 

“I don’t believe in soulmates.”

The man sitting across from the cafe table, introduced as Alhaitham, bluntly states, interrupting your sip of coffee, warm beverage just barely touching your lips. 

Placing your cup back down on the coffee shop table, your gaze observed the stranger who just met you moments ago - a  meeting in a small cafe arranged by Sumeru’s Ministry of Human Relations, the government body tasked with delivering the Akasha’s verdict. 

After a few breaths, you decided to humor his abrupt statement with a response. Staring straight into his teal-orange eyes, you say,  “What a coincidence, neither do I.”

————————

So then why did two nonbelievers follow the verdict handed to them? It’s simple really.

Two salaries combined can buy a sizable house. Two pairs of hands get chores done faster. Two signatures on a certificate save tax money. Life is simpler with a partner to bear some of the burden. 

Young professionals and fresh graduates aren’t known for their financial independence; a boy eager to move out of a cheap flat and away from an infuriating roommate, a girl trying to escape a noisy environment.

The circumstances had aligned. 

And that’s how it’s been for two years now, a nice quiet house. Although, you’d be lying if you weren’t thankful that the Akasha paired you with someone as handsome as Alhaitham. Silver hair, broad frame, and beryl eyes with a hint of ochre -  maybe he’s an apology gift from some fickle god.

He’s a well-rounded and capable man; perceptive enough to know not to cross boundaries drawn in the air, apt enough to not disrupt the serenity, and able to take care of himself.

Although, he could learn to launder better. 

Your lips tug down as your eyes scan over the deep wrinkles crimping the fabric of a freshly washed button-down. It looks too rumpled to look professional, even on him. A sigh falls from your lips.

The presence of slow steps make your head turn in their direction, connecting with Alhaitham’s neutral eyes, quirked gray eyebrow questioning your purpose. 

Two bodies, two rooms, and two beds.

The only time you or he crossed into the private haven of one another was when the floors needed to be mopped or shelves dusted. Owning a house means owning up to tedious chores and dividing up responsibilities spares one’s sanity from the tediousness. 

It’s best to point out the critiques now to spare your own clothes from the same fate. Picking it off the back of his chair, you show him the shameful state of the garment. 

“Leaving your clothes in the dryer for too long will create stubborn wrinkles.” You advise. 

Teal eyes glance at the shirt in your hands before they flick towards the closet rack, your own gaze follows, noting the numerous other shirts in a similar state. Another heavy sigh escapes you, it's obvious Alhaitham attempted to do laundry yesterday.

Wordlessly, you begin gathering each wrinkled garment. 

“I’ll rewash them and hang them outside, it’s the best way to smooth them out. Heat isn’t recommended for your fabrics.” You swiftly walk past him with your arms full. 

“Thank you, I’ll clean the floors then.” He takes hold of the mop against the wall.

This seamless switching of responsibilities is done with less than two sentences, the efficiency of which is only possible between two people such as yourselves. 

Button-downs are much more fickle than a casual t-shirt, using the wrong detergent or leaving it unattended for too long will cause unsightly wrinkles.

Alhaitham’s laundering skills have improved in the last two years… perhaps the singing of the dryer still slips past his preoccupied mind. 

The two of you are working professionals. Crucial insight you’ve learned from your parents: A nicely ironed shirt, neatly brushed hair, and elegantly tied ties are all it takes to make others believe in the white lie of a put-together life. 

Alhaitham was raised by his grandmother, a detail you recall from a passing conversation some time ago. It shows.

The amateur attempts at chores, the books strewn about a desk absent-mindedly, and the afternoon naps spent on a couch underneath a sunlit window are secrets only seen behind closed doors - all telltale signs of being well-loved.

‘How nice it must be.’ You thought, clipping his freshly washed button-downs to the clothesline, allowing the Sunday morning rays to shine down upon them.

A stone-faced man was once a beloved grandson. Maybe his juvenile attempts at chores were too endearing for an elderly lady to correct. 

Hidden from everyone but the audience of swaying fabric and a curious star, a bittersweet smile tugs at stiff lips. 

The clinking of forks against porcelain plates accompanies the evening news. Your eyes starring indifferently towards the TV just around the corner from the dinner table; looks like tonight's topic was the annual metrics of the Akasha.

With each passing year, these metrics only climb higher and higher, a machine learning to calculate better and better. 

“What’s your theory behind the Akasha?” you blurt out the question without looking away from the screen. 

A pair of utensils halted their movements as Alhaitham glances at the evening news. He takes a moment to wipe the corners of his mouth before humoring you.

Technically, the two of you have yet to fill your daily conversation quota. Might as well do it over dinner. 

“It’s all mathematics, the Akasha system. Pairing individuals based on collected data. Demographic, interests, and dispositions, are all factors in a pairing,” he explains in his baritone voice. 

“Mmm, then again it's all just a black box, we can’t be certain unless they choose to reveal it.” You ponder aloud. 

“Correct. Those factors are all key when it comes to compatibility. The Akasha simply uses probability. However, there’s the element of human variability.”

“Meaning it can’t always be right.” You know this, live it even.  “Is that why you don’t believe in the concept of soulmates?” Pivoting to an adjacent question, you return your attention back to the man across the table. 

“Yes, it’s an unrealistic belief.” Alhaitham sips on his wine.

“Such a brilliant conclusion, what an astute mind you have.” Honeyed-voice mimicking awe over a glass of water.

Narrowed teal eyes honed in as his glass returned to its place on the lacquered surface, unamused by your quip. 

“How about you? What theory brought you to hold the same brilliant conclusion?” 

“Do you know phenylethylamine? PEA?” Glancing up from your glass.

From his idle gaze and unmoving lips, you take his silence as a “no”. 

“It’s a stimulant that causes your heart to beat abnormally, released when you’re around a special someone. It causes what people describe as the ‘rush’ or ‘fever’ of love.” 

He says nothing, waiting for you to continue.

“But then your brain gets used to it, and the abnormality in your chest corrects itself.” You take a sip before continuing, “Nothing last forever, so why do people think love is an exception? That only one person ever will cause their hearts to flutter till the end of time?” 

A dry giggle follows the clink of your water cup against the wood. 

“How insightful.” Alhaitham takes another sip of wine to chase his sarcasm.

Maybe it was the amusing quip or how tonight’s butter chicken turned out to be exceptionally delicious, but a subtle smile curls at the edges of your lips. With today’s conversational quota fulfilled you focus your full attention back to the awaiting dinner. 

You remain ignorant to the gaze of teal eyes, oblivious to how it fixates on the faint smile complimenting the soft curves of your cheeks and plush lips. 

“...” 

The front door shuts and locks behind you, your shoes are halfway into the closet before a familiar scent beckons you towards the living room.

Quickly getting into your slippers, you trek through the entranceway and round the corner. The vivid hues of pale blues and gentle violets with pops of bright yellow catch your eyes, confirming your speculations: it’s a bouquet. 

The bundle of flowers were placed into a long-forgotten vase. Turning away from the blooms, you face the man currently thumbing through a book on the couch -the only other person with access to this quiet haven.

Turning back to observe the blooms, you note each species of flower. The Sumerian Rose, Kalpalata Lotus, and…Padisarah.

You observe how the pollen of the Padisarahs dusts the radius of the surface around the vase. It’s a fickle flower after all.

A fickle and potent-smelling flower. 

A scowl twists your face despite your best efforts, the sickly-sweet fragrance of the capricious blooms assaults your senses. 

“Please open a window.” your hand comes up to shield your nose. 

“Is something the matter?” 

“The smell is giving me a headache.” 

A headache forms from within the deepest depths of your mind, the same visceral reaction to the heavy perfumes that plagued your childhood walls. Your mother believed the saccharine scent could cover up her infidelity if she sprayed enough.

Compared to that artificial perfume, fresh Padisarahs were much tamer, but still enough to make a bitter taste appear at the back of your tongue. 

“I see.” Alhaitham sets his book down, getting up to allow the Autumn breeze in. 

Swiftly, you trudge away from the vase and its potent blooms and down the hall, eager to find an untainted corner of the house. It’d be best to sleep the headache off. 

In the morning when you round the corner back into the living room, you notice the vacant vase and table wiped clean of any speck of yellow pollen. Passing through into the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafts in the air.

As you pour yourself a cup, you take note of how the trash has already been taken out, a fresh trash bag lining the bin. 

Good, flowers were a hassle to keep around the house.

———————————————————————————

“Chocolates?” You study the box of sweets left out on the kitchen table. 

“I picked them up while getting ingredients for dinner,” Alhaitham answers, busy chopping carrots. 

“You can have some.” 

You return your gaze  back to the intricately designed package in seasonal Winter colors. It’s not often that you indulge in such elegant treats, you couldn’t refuse such an offer. 

Delicately picking up a piece, the glossy dark chocolate shine looks inviting, you can see the quality in these sweets. Placing the small chunk onto your tongue, savoring the rich flavor. Not too sweet and not too bitter. 

Using your tongue to maneuver it towards your teeth you bite into its center, only for your tastebuds to be assaulted by a foul flavor. The distinct and sharp tang of alcohol and the revolting aftertaste of bourbon spoils the sweetness. 

Refusing to allow the detestable flavor to remain on your tongue, you briskly swipe up a few napkins, spitting the foul sweet out. You frown at the stubborn tang of bourbon which threatens to ruin your appetite for dinner. 

“You can have the rest.” You throw out the crumpled napkin. 

“Are they of poor quality?” The tapping of the knife paused. 

“They’re just not to my taste.” 

“In that case, I hope tonight's dinner is.” Alhaitham resumes his task. 

Taking a glass out from the cupboard, you fill the cup with fresh water before gulping it down, washing the foul tang of alcohol from your tongue, and even fouler memories of the stench of sour wine and crushed cans.

Wiping the escaped droplets off with the back of your hand, you go for a second glass. Hopefully, you can cleanse your palate. 

———————————————————————————

“Do you have plans tonight?” Alhaitham’s words make you stop in the middle of the hallway. 

You have a book ready in hand for a night of reading on the sofa under the soft glow of the floor lamp. You know his eyes can see that,  gaze questioning his intentions. 

“I was given two tickets to a movie, would you like to accompany me?” He holds out the slips of paper. 

As your eyes pass over the printed font, you recognized the title, a name picked up within the chatter of coworkers at the office. It’s An adaptation of a famous light novel from Inazuma, and the reviews seem positive. 

“Sure.”

You could get out of the house a little more. 

…

It seems like everyone wants to see a movie tonight, the theater lobby is filled with bustling crowds, families with excited kids, and couples holding hands.

And then there’s you and Alhaitham. Standing side by side, his hands carrying two carbonated drinks, your hands holding an overpriced bag of popcorn, walking toward the room printed on the tickets. 

“C5…C6, looks like we got good spots.” You settled into the plush seats, careful not to spill the bag. 

Alhaitham hums in response, placing your drink in the cupholder. More and more people filed into the screening room, waves of ‘excuse me’s and ‘sorry’s rolling through the space until all the seats were finally filled. The lights begin to dim as the opening logo booms through the sound system. 

The cinematography was beautiful, the musical scores accompanying the plot pleasing to the ears, and the popcorn perfectly seasoned.

It’s been a while since you’ve last gone to a movie theater, maybe you should go more often. As you brought a few more pieces of popcorn to your lips, your eyes travel toward Alhaitham.

His arms crossed as the light of the silver screen reflects onto his skin, noticing your stare, his teal gaze connects with yours. 

Moving the striped bag closer to his frame, you offer him some popcorn, he paid for the refreshments. It'd be a shame if he didn’t get to enjoy them too.

His large hand reachs over and takes a handful, your curiosity wanting to see his reaction to the snack. However, a piercing shrill snaps your attention away. 

Just a few rows away, a woman stood up from her seat, throwing a bag of popcorn at the man sitting beside her. Screaming words you couldn’t quite make out as they merges with the onscreen dialogue and equally furious shouts of the now popcorn-covered man.

Their thunderous voices were only amplified by the acoustics of the theater. 

They’re both standing now, still hurling insults and grievances one after another. There’s a ringing in your ears, their faceless silhouettes in the dim theater replaying a scene you’ve seen many times before. It’s as if they’ve finally developed a conscious, now aware of the stares and glares thrown their way.

Oh, look they’re leaving now, still fighting the whole way out of the screening room. 

With the disturbance now cleared, a low wave of murmuring swept through the audience before dying out. The dialogue and soundtrack were audible again, the atmosphere reverting to how it was.

You didn’t feel like snacking on the popcorn anymore. Gaze focus on the fluffy puffs for the rest of the movie. 

“Did you enjoy the film?” An indifferent voice resounds from your right side. 

Walking out as the credit rolled in the background, following the flow of traffic toward the exit. You were walking by Alhaitham’s side, but your mind was elsewhere, a subtle frown etched on your lips. 

“It was fine, just crowded and loud.” Your voice was just as flat. 

“Oh.”

Tossing the unfinished bag of popcorn way into the nearest trash can, the two of you continue on the silent journey home.

Perhaps, it’s best if you just stayed curled up with a book. 

“Eh? It’s been three years and you’ve never gotten your wife flowers? I knew you were cold-hearted, but not to this extent. Here, a quick bouquet of some fresh flowers I picked.” 

“You should gift her some sweets, maybe then you two can talk a choco-lot… Did you get the joke?”

“Are you serious?! Almost four years and you never took her on a date?? You’re hopeless! Take these tickets and take her to the movies. By the way, you’ll have to pay for them.”

Alhaitham wasn’t sure what made his colleagues so invested in his marriage, maybe a projection of their own lack of one. To his colleagues, you were just as much of an enigma as the ashen-haired man.

Any passing comment, no matter how vague or curt, would bring forth an onslaught of unsolicited advice. And it was for that very reason within the walls of your home these details shall stay. 

Alhaitham isn’t sure which was more irksome, the uninformed guidance of bachelors, or the fact he was the one who actually tested each suggestion. Regardless, at least these trials were fruitful in the sense he can gauge your dislikes now. 

You despise flowers for their fickle messes and scent. You’re revolted by overpriced chocolates. You detested rowdy theaters and subpar films. 

Four now going on to five years, and these were his results. Frankly, he didn’t have to subject you to such experiments for these results, because they aligned with his own preferences.

A waste of time, disturbing your peace for the sake of his own curiosity. 

A heavy sigh falls from his lips as he sets the bucket of water down, one hand holding a mop as the other turns the knob of your bedroom.

It’s a Sunday, meaning the floors needed to be mopped. Your door's hinges sing as they swing open only to be abruptly silenced as Alhaitham stood motionless under the door frame. 

Oh. He should’ve knocked.

You were in the midst of getting dressed in front of your floor-length mirror, glimpses of smooth skin peeking out from under baggy fabric. Before he could stop, teal eyes followed the dark fabric reaching just down to the middle of your thighs and draping low on one shoulder. Your fingers were in the middle of buttoning the clearly oversized shirt as you turned back to focus on him. 

Blank gaze traveling up your soft lips set in a neutral position and meeting your deadpan stare, Alhaitham’s conscience restarts.

Today was Sunday, which meant it was laundry day yesterday, and it was the ashen-haired man’s turn to wash and dry the clothes. Somehow, his button-down got mixed in with your blouses, leading to your unamused reaction. 

“I’ll be more mindful next time, did my shirt dull any of your whites?” Forcing his eyes to avert, a late attempt at respecting your privacy. 

“It’s fine, fortunately, the dye didn’t bleed out during the wash.” You turned away as your hand pulls the draping fabric up your shoulder. 

“Just place the shirt over the chair in my room, I’ll take care of it later.”

“Okay.” 

Once more your door sings as he shuts it on the way back into the hall, deciding to clean the floors of his room first and allowing you to change into your rightful clothes. It was early noon and a weekend, meaning there was no reason for Alhaitham to brush out his sleep-tousled hair. Hopefully, messy gray locks were enough to conceal burning ears. 

———————————————————————————

“The Evolution of Everything.” His eyes scan over the title held out in front of him. 

A newly published scientific journal filled with freshly collected data, the book's spine still in mint condition. Alhaitham takes note of the identical copy held in your hand. 

“You seemed interested in this genre, so I picked up a copy for you.” You motion for him to take it. 

There wasn’t a rule etched in stone that forbade the sharing of books within these quiet walls. The books on your shelves have been more interesting than his as of late. A pattern of folded corners inflecting more and more pages of the books lining your bookshelves, evidence of a certain man’s meddling.

 The warning glare every time you smoothed out a creased page directed his way didn’t seem to be enough to stop the unconscious habit of his hands.

It looks like you’re trying out a new solution, getting him his own copy to prevent the infection from engulfing each and every corner of your bookshelves. 

“Thank you, I’ll read it soon.” He accepts the peace offering. 

With that, you made your way back to the sofa. Flipping open your own copy, fingers gently making sure to not crumple the delicate pages or crease the pristine spine. Alhaitham compares it to the book currently held in his own hands.

An older book, while not falling apart or tattered, it’s obvious the man has thumbed through its pages. A well-loved book as his grandmother would’ve described it. 

Alhaitham needs to stop this practice he never corrected in childhood. 

———————————————————————————

“Alhaitham.” You greet him at the entranceway. 

Said man is currently placing his outside shoes away into the closet, returning from an uneventful day at his office. You usually got home before him, but this was the first time you’ve waited for him at the front door. He notes that you seem to be holding something behind your back. 

“Here.” Bring your arms out from your back, the distinct crinkling of plastic was heard.

Teal eyes study the gift basket filled with bath products, body wash, shampoo, conditioner, and lotion all nicely packaged with a satin ribbon. 

“It’s to thank you for helping me with errands lately,” you explain. 

Recently, you’ve been asking him to accompany you to the cluttered streets lined with stalls and haggling merchants. With his towering frame and larger hands, he could carry heavier bags and part a path through the pushy crowds easier. You were using your resources to maximize efficiency. 

“There’s no need to trouble yourself with this, I’m just doing my part. But thank you.” He takes the basket from your hands, eyes remaining collected. 

Just as the basket leaves your hands, the distinct chime of your phone goes off as ‘Bahram’ flashes across the screen. The name of your boss. 

“Excuse me, I have to take this call. Dinner will be ready in half an hour.” Turning away, you walk toward the kitchen. 

The he hums in response, slipping into his inside shoes. With brisk steps, he covers the distance from the front door to his room, closing then leaning against the solid oak.

Sharply inhaling as one hand balancing the basket of toiletries and the other holding his head. 

You’ve always prefer to maintain the serenity of the house. Resolving strife with proactive actions or brief comments. Not once in these past five years did you ever nag him, you’re too pragmatic for that. At times it’s a curse more than a blessing, evidenced by the gift basket staring back at him mockingly. 

Although Alhaitham was messy at times, he knows the importance of hygiene. Teeth brushed twice a day, a shower taken every day before dinner, and deodorant applied daily.

However, the temperatures this Summer were at record highs, even for Sumeru. The packed market streets pushing the two of you closer than usual, perhaps he’s no match for the heat this time. 

Washing his hair twice and his body thrice, Alhaitham finishes his prolonged shower by gurgling some mouthwash for good measure. Walking into the kitchen in a fresh set of clothes and his hair still damp. The table set with potato boat and some steak. Impassive eyes met inscrutable eyes as you motion for him to take a seat.

Your nose remained relaxed, meaning you were probably satisfied with his efforts. 

Alhaitham makes a silent reminder to research some cologne after he finishes washing the dishes. One that isn’t overbearing nor too weak to linger. 

How embarrassing it is, five years in and the stoic prodigy known as Alhaitham is still testing the bounds of his wife’s patience. Selfish experiments and habits he can’t seem to correct conflicting with your wishes for a clean, serene, and quiet home. 

The entire reason why you bothered signing your name next to a stone-faced man who said ‘I don’t believe in soulmates’ before asking ‘How are you?’.

  

Flowers, chocolates, and movie tickets.

You weren’t oblivious to the sentiment behind these arbitrary actions. In a way, it was expected. A husband wants to get closer to his wife, it’s simple chemistry.

The human mind craves connection, oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin released at the sight of gifted blooms, crafted sweets, and from simply sitting within each other's presence.

A chemical cocktail the mind gets drunk on. 

Alhaitham isn’t immune to it and neither are you. Even if you were able to stiffen your lips, steady your gaze, and hide those flushed cheeks. Nothing you did could quell the abnormality in your chest, was Alhaitham having the same issue?

There comes the first hurdle, the unknown which hung in the air formed over years of peaceful silence. The thought of two stoic faces peering into each other’s eyes as two monotonous voices stated the obvious would make any romantic keel over and die.

It’d be too embarrassing, especially when it’s already been awkward. 

Headache caused by sickly sweet blossoms, spitting out pricey sweets, and dulled reaction to a critically acclaimed film. None of this was Alhaitham’s fault, how can you blame someone for something they don’t know?

He never asked, you never told.

No one knew what happened within that noisy house with empty bottle-covered floors of two ‘soulmates’ who refused to release their crushing grips. All except the three unfortunate souls trapped within its Padisarah-scented walls. 

Still, his keen eyes didn’t miss those details, reassessing his actions before ultimately channeling more of his energy into chores around the house instead of frivolous gifts. What a proactive husband. 

A sting of guilt felt as you recall his sincere attempts at trying to cross an icy bridge. What should you say? ‘Thank you, you tried.’ Sounded far too condescending, it could even lead to a huffy fight. Something you’ve been good at avoiding these past five years. 

Marriage is filled with compromises, meeting each other halfway along the road of life, side by side. So you tried this time.

Curiosity guiding you as it did a naive hero towards the brilliance of a red star. 

———————————————————————————

Your first attempt was inspired by an article that popped up on your phone’s feed, something about wearing your partner’s shirt to make them flush, nonsense known as the ‘boyfriend shirt’.

You still gave it a try. Swiping up one of your husband’s black button-downs one Saturday night, only building up the confidence to put it on the next morning. 

Your original plan was to just casually wear it around the house as you got the Sunday morning chores done, but that got thrown out when Alhaitham suddenly opened your door when one-third of the buttons were still undone.

A moment of tense silence followed, impressively you managed to maintain a cool facade. Grasping the opportunity to leave this stale silence with an expertly crafted response. 

———————————————————————————

In the end, he just wanted his shirt back. So for your next attempt, you toned it down, no longer taking advice from nonsensical articles. 

Recently, Alhaitham has taken more of an interest in your bookshelf. More of the once pristine edges of your books folder here and there. If it was anyone else, you’d make them buy you a new copy immediately, but for now, you simply smoothed out the paper.

If he wants to read the theories and studies that muse you, why don’t you read them together?

However, two bodies pressed together on a sofa trying to read the small print along pages at the same time is simply uncomfortable. Plus, Alhaitham reads much faster than you. 

To ensure a pleasant reading experience for both of you, two copies were the best solution. 

He read it after you. 

———————————————————————————

Your next attempts used thinly veiled excuses to get Alhaitham to accompany you to the bustling markets of Sumeru City. In a way, trying to make up for that lackluster movie experience.

Only for it to soon turn into using Alhaitham to carry arm fulls of bags as he shielded you from the push and pull of the busy crowd. 

Perhaps you should stick to gift-giving, to spare your husband from working like a Sumpter Beast in this weather.

But besides books, what should you give him? He’s just like you, if he sees something he wants, he’d just buy it with his own money. 

On the way home from work, you caught sight of a shop, one which displayed handmade soaps and fancy lotions. Huh, Alhaitham often takes your lotions, maybe you should get him his own. A bell ringing overhead announces your entrance into the cozy store. 

“Welcome!” A bright voice chirped as a shop assistant with vibrant red hair and an equally vibrant smile bounded toward you. 

“I’m Nilou, how may I help you today?”

“I’m just looking for some lotion.” You politely responded, trying to ignore the faint fragrance of Pardisarahs. 

“We’ve got plenty of hand-made ones, for you or for someone else?”

“For my husband.”

“Oh? What does he like?”

You paused for a moment, lips pressed together in contemplation before deciding. 

“Something fresh and not overbearing, nothing made from Pardisarahs.” If he liked using your lotions, then he must have the same scent preferences. 

“We just got this new lotion that fits the criteria! Oh! But it pairs very well with this body wash… actually this shampoo and conditioner set is also a good fit. Oh! What if we bundle them?”

What was supposed to be a simple lotion turned into you leaving the small shop with an entire gift basket. A sigh leaves your lips, looks like you’re not as immune to sales tactics as you originally thought. 

That night you handed the ribbon-wrapped basket to Alhaitham. Even if he isn’t interested in expensive handcrafted soaps, he’ll still use them out of necessity, they were a gift after all.

However, it doesn’t seem you had to worry about that. He used up the fancy soaps and lotions. 

The opulent scent lingering on his skin and towel-dried hair, looks like your gift made you discover a new side of your husband.

He enjoys really long showers, evidenced by your rising water bills. 

Still, the vast expanse of uncertainty didn’t shrink, not even one bit. Just like the distance between an outstretched hand toward the sun. 

Books, lotions, and walks through a market, looks like it was all for naught. 

The mutual agreement to not lock eyes, these cold halls, these awkward dinners filled with nothing but the clattering of silverware and plates. Where have you seen these patterns before?

Oh, you’ve seen these in your childhood home. 

Ah, was this a curse passed on to you? What an awful wedding gift from uninvited parents to a courthouse office. 

Clutching the straps of your bag tighter, your legs quicken their pace, wanting to get out of the crowded streets filled with the mumbles and pushes of people freshly off the clock.

With each stranger knocking into your shoulder another drop is added to a bottle. White knuckles gripping on your straps as a pressure rises within the bottle’s glass body, threatening to shatter it.

You can’t let this continue, the mounting pressure will sooner or later detonate into a hideous mess. Best to avoid that scenarios. Eyes catching sight of a small reprieve from the crowd, you direct yourself there.

 The small store front provides you with some shelter for your lungs to breathe. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. The pressure subsides just a bit. There’s still room in there, you can suppress a little more, you can endure a little longer. 

Eyelids fluttering open, you recognized the name of the shop. It’s the fancy soap shop, one with the vivacious sales assistant.

Peering through the glass you searched for that brilliant shade of crimson. And you found it, right next to glimmering silver hair. It’s like your body forgot how to breathe. 

From the rumbling of the late evening rush, all you could do was read their lips from behind a thick glass door.

Petite pink lips giggling behind clasped hands as Nilou looks up at Alhaitham, tilting her head to the side as if she asked him a question. His lips remained stiff, but teal gaze reflected crimson as they softened. Something you never witnessed within the quiet walls of your home. 

Looks like you found the cause of the rising water bills, perhaps Alhaitham likes the smell of Padisarahs. 

Your bottle couldn’t contain the ocean anymore. 

It wasn’t an Earth-shattering catastrophic event, no tidal waves crashing down, no flood flood devastating everything in its path. Only a defeated ‘pop’ and its pathetic echo as your bottle finally overflowed.

Bitter sea-foam fizzled out as it made an unseen mess. 

Listlessly, you rejoined the rolling crowd, letting the eb and flow of its movement carry you all the way to the front door of a false haven. Systematically inserting the key, placing your shoes into the closet, and shutting your room door behind your back. Staring at the clean floor with its intricate wood grain. 

However, your mind weren’t processing any of it, busy with its calculations.

When did his fever start? That one Autumn night with a chaste bouquet. What day is it now? The cusp of Summer. How long has it been? In a few months, it’ll be three years.

A lecture from an inescapable past resurfaces.

————————

“Hey, kiddo.” 

Slurred words made you stop in your tracks, small hands tightening their grip on your backpack straps.

You weren’t quiet enough, the careful steps of your feet were rendered useless when it came to the creaky wooden floors of this house. Your lungs burned for air, but you didn’t want to breathe in the stench which permeated this air. 

The aroma of cheap perfume, sour wine, and cheap beer. The source of this foul smell? The freshly awakened man laying on the couch just a few inches away: a man known as your father.

Still trying to reserve your stored supply of oxygen, all you offered the drunkard was a firm hum. Not that he’d care, judging from the crushed cans and empty bottles littering the path, he’s probably too far gone. 

“Did you know love is a chemical? Something called ‘phenylethylamine’?” A hiccup interrupts his sentence, but he continues, much to your dismay. 

“Haha, it makes your heart beat faster and your cheeks flush because it’s considered an amphetamine, one of the most powerful drugs.” His stumbling hand blindly reached for another can, knocking over empty shells until it found one with just a bit of liquor. 

“Too bad the high can only last three years.”

Your disinterested gaze trailed off down the empty hall, legs itching to break away from the lecture you’ve heard numerous times before. Lungs begging to inhale the untainted air of your room, the only sanctuary this hollow home held.

Just a few minutes was all you needed, then you’ll start mopping these foul floors. 

A clink of aluminum hitting the wooden boards draws your attention back to your father who had finished moisturizing his throat with another swig of beer. 

“Stay away from that drug, kiddo” A sloppy grin stretched across his face as he stared up at a blank ceiling. 

The sight made your arms bristle, seeing a smile on your father’s face was uncanny. Something you’ve never seen at the dinner table, just silent scowls and disgruntled glares constantly exchanged over a subpar meal. 

Wanting him to finish this one-sided conversation, you gave another firm hum, every now and then glazing back toward the hall. 

“Or you’ll end up like this old man.” He wraps the conversation up with a bitter laugh, one which resonated off the blank walls. 

————————

Maybe you should’ve heeded your father’s words. A brilliant scholar to the public but a pathetic drunk when within the confines of a cluttered, noisy house is still a brilliant scholar. 

This was your punishment for straying away from your beliefs. You reached your hand out towards the fire despite knowing it’d  hurt, and you fell in love. Now look at where you are. 

How utterly laughable, you, the ever-bright Ms. Perfect, who’s broken love down to its base form of chemical compounds, fell victim to the addiction that was love.

So blindsided by it.

The fog of love is slowly running its course through him. Once the trees abandon their vibrant greens for shriveled browns in the Autumn, his fever will be over. There’s no such thing as an endless Summer.

How did you not see this coming? Covering your eyes with ignorant hands, blatantly ignoring the signs right in front of your nose.

No more flowers, no more chocolates, and no more movies. 

Turning back around, you took note of a figure in a floor length mirror. Indifferent gaze identical to how your husband looks at you.

Two sides of the same mirror, what’s what you and him are. What’s the use of that? Shiny surfaces point off in opposite directions, yet only ever reflecting one view. What’s the point of having two sides then?

You don’t intrigue him, you can’t show him his blind spots, and you can’t reflect to him a view he’s never seen. Same perceptions, same hobbies, same expressionless faces, how stale it must be. 

It’s much more interesting to have a wife who’ll smile at receiving flowers, a wife whose eyes light up at chocolate, and a wife who’d blabber on about a movie as Alhaitham listens intently. The beating of his heart is starting with someone new.

Emerging out of your thoughts, you stare directly at the person in your mirror.

Dull eyes stared right back, light dimmed from years of staring at a bright star grasping at its warm rays in substitution of a cold house, only for your fingers to slip pass right through.

Idiotic girl, you can’t touch the sun, not even Icarus did. 

An unlovable child grew into an unlovable adult. Add that to your footnote, so you’ll never forget this lesson again. The fool in the mirror finally looks away. 

It didn’t matter if Icarus smiled or laughed as he tumbled from the sky. Silly girl, did you forget what happens in the end of that tale? He drowned alone. 

Drowning isn’t like what the movies show. The thrashing of limbs against cold waves, the garbled screams under the water, all accompanied by the ominous soundtrack crafted by a sound master. It’s all dramatized for the silver screen. 

Muscles pushing through the cold exhaustion, mouth agape but prioritizing large and fast gulps of oxygen over cries for help, followed by the melodic lull of water lapping over eardrums until the head disappears under its surface. Never to breach it again. 

It’s possible for a person to drown in a pool full of people. Just like how it was possible for you to feel alone despite having your husband just across the lacquered expanse of the dinner table. Forks and knives clacking porcelain plates.

It’s a silent death. 

For once you’re grateful to attend a nugatory dinner hosted by your company. Venue filled with superficial smiles and handshakes all over food served on sliver platters. Even if the heels are killing you, you’d rather not wallow in a quiet house.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips, catching someone’s attention. 

“What a heavy sigh, here have some wine to ease the burden.” A glass filled with fragrant wine was held out in front of you. 

Your eyes travel up the hand which offers the vile beverage to you, sights landing on the face of your boss, Bahram. Pushy as always, always testing the limits of your loyalty to a nice pension and dental insurance.

As always you politely push the glass away, uttering a firm “no thank you.”

“Oh c’mom Ms. Perfect, you look like you could use a drink.” He pushes the glass closer. 

 Stares from all around the formal dinner table hone in, the weight heavy on your shoulders. Stakeholders and coworkers turn away from their shallow conversations to watch the brewing spectacle just across the table.

That’s right, you have to be professional, where was your crafted mask? Make use of all those years observing the masters of deception you knew as your parents. 

So you accept the vile glass.

Before the aroma could register on your palate, you emptied the whole glass. Not a single drip escaped past your lips. It took all your strength to no scowl at the sweetly bitter and alcoholic flavor. 

“Oh? Ms. Perfect is drinking tonight?” Some nameless coworker mused. 

Ah, the name lightly tossed around at the office with oblivious chuckles and ignorant smiles. You despise being called that, but not as much as you despise being told ‘you’re just like your father’ and ‘you’re acting like your mother’.

Better to be Ms. Perfect, so disgruntled ‘soulmates’ can’t compare you to their flawed counterpart.

“Do you like this wine? Have some more.” Eagerly, your boss fills the glass once more. 

Staring at the beckoning liquid swirling in the glimmering cup, as the weight of those stares force your hands to accept it once more. 

Maybe you should’ve just stayed home. 

“I should really be trying to sell you our products but… I think you’ll find a better gift at another store. Here, I’ll write the address down for you! They have the best jewels, I’m sure you’ll find something for your wife there!” Hastily the shop assistant scribbles on a notepad before pushing the slip into his palm. 

“Just don’t tell my manager.” Clasping her hands in front of her mouth, signaling to him to keep a secret. 

Alhaitham simply nods, examining the address in his hands. He hasn’t tried jewelry yet, but a ring would look nice on your hand. Maybe you’d think so too.

“You really love her, don’t you mister?” Nilou notes how attentively his hands smooth over the address. 

Pausing for a moment, Alhaitham envisions the softness of your cheeks shifting as that tender smile spreads across your lips. Yours eyes reflecting the light off the polished and cut gem as he slips it onto your bare finger. 

“I do.” Unable to stop the softening of his gaze. 

———————————————————————————

A ring still left in its miserable black box, stowed away in the depths of a drawer. A sigh slips out of him just like how he let another opportunity to place the jewel on your finger pass. You’re attending a company dinner tonight, a rare occasion requiring you to dress up.

The dress draped over your figure and curves just right and highlighted the contours of your body. He wanted to tell you this earlier as you were leaving, too bad he was occupied with swallowing ‘stay home’. 

There’s an annoying itch in the deepest depths of his mind. Covetous hands crawled up his spine, they tried to convince his own fingers to grasp around your wrist and pull you back into the house.

Alhaitham shakes that itch away, refocusing his attention onto your bookshelf in front of him.

You have a life and responsibilities outside these walls, he can’t overstep the boundary to block you from your individuality. Running a finger along the tops of the neatly lined books, searching for something to redirect his impulses.

Momentum halting when his finger sunk into pages when he expected the firm edge of a spine. The force crumpling the paper, immediately he pulls it into his hands, smoothing out the folded edges. Title catching his attention. 

The Lifespan of Love, the only book where the spine wasn’t facing out. Flipping it to the back, Alhaitham scans the blurb, noting the portrait of the scholar who authored it.

A familiar face, a professor who’s lectures he barely attended. A distinguished researcher and mentor in the eyes of his old university.

The sight of his face made Alhaitham recall a scene he once witnessed. 

————————

The halls of the Psychology department were desolate, as they always were. A much-appreciated reprieve from crowded foyers as a quiet student walks to his next exam in the department next door. 

Just as his hand reached up to activate his headphones, two voices caught his attention, the high shrills of a woman and the raspy shouts of a man leaking out from an office door left ajar.

It has nothing to do with him, Alhaitham know this, but he still had 30 minutes to kill before the exam.

Teal eyes peer through the gap between the oak doorframe.

A man the student recongizes, but the scowl and flush of rage twisted his face into an unrecongizable mess. The professor juts his finger towards the woman as foul names left his mouth, the same mouth which lectured the brightest minds of Sumeru. 

The woman screams back equally loathsome words, tears leaving mascara trails down her red cheeks. Suddenly, she grabs a lamp off his desk and hurls it to the floor. 

For a brief moment, the scholar pauses as his eyes scanned over the broken debris scattered along the floor. Then his fist slammed into the solid oak of his desk, thud so forceful the office ratted with the poor furniture.

His shouts resume, volume escalating by the minute. 

Alhaitham backs away from the door, turning on his noise-canceling headphones. He’s satisfied his curiosity enough, walking off to his exam. 

————————

A peculiar sight behind the superficial mask of a respected professor with his jolly grin and light hearted jokes with students. Inspecting the name printed just underneath the portrait, a furrow forms between his brow as he scrutinizes the spelling closer.

The professor’s last name was spelled the same way as yours. 

Oh. So this is the source you were citing back then. Numbers and figures published by a notable name backing your rebuttal to the societal notion of a soulmate. Inquisiveness rearing its impatient nose, inciting his hands to choose this book as his subject tonight.

You never told him, so he never asked. This was a chance to peer into a view sealed behind your closed lips.  

To study, dissect, and analyze the resources which congergated together to form the you of today. Alhaitham isn’t going to deny such an opportunity.

Teal eyes glance at the ticking hands of a clock, he’s got a good few hours of reading before you return.

The distinct rumble of an engine leaking in through the living room window interrupts his peace, the slam of car doors causing Alhaitham to promptly fold over the corner of the page he has yet to finish.

The dinner must have ended.

Getting up from a cushy couch, Alhaitham makes his way toward the entranceway.

His keen ears picking up the unmistakable hearty chuckle of a man, Alhaitham stills for a brief second before continuing to the door. 

Before the chime of the doorbell had the chance to sound throughout the home, Alhaitham already pried open the front door.

Teal gaze darkening as they examine the display on the front steps. 

Your arm around the shoulder of another man while his arm was snaked around your waist, pressing your body against his as he supports you up the steps.

The sound of the hinges directs the man’s attention to the homeowner currently staring at him, oblivious to the way Alhaitham’s grip threatens to crush a metal handle behind solid oak. 

“Oh! You must be Ms. Perfect’s husband. I’m Bahram.” The man greeted.

Alhaitham already knows him. He’s seen that name flash up enough times across your phone. He’s seen you pick up no matter the hour and step out into an empty room.

A new habit of yours which started some months earlier.

“Haha! She drank a bit too much tonight.” The jovial man continues, his hand still resting on your hip.

Drank? You drank? You don’t so much as glance at Alhaitham’s wine cabinet at home, yet you drank with this man? The begins of scowl start to set into Alhaitham’s face. 

“I’ll bring her inside for ya.” Bahram takes a step forward only to be blocked by a towering frame topped with ashen hair. 

“I’ll take it from here.” Alhaitham barely bit back a pointed tone, forcibly smoothing it over to make his voice pass as neutral. 

Prying that hand off your hip and your arm from Bahram’s neck, Alhaitham’s strong hold supports your slumping figure against his own body.

Pulling you across the threshold of the front door, finally putting some distance between you and that damn boss of yours. 

“Have a goodnight.” Venomous lie rolling off Alhaitham’s tongue as he firmly shuts the oak door, not bothering with any more pleasantries. 

It didn’t take much effort to carry you into the living room. Setting you down on the sofa then kneeling down with dexterous fingers, Alhaitham freed your feet from the chokehold of those heels.

You make a mental note to throw them out tomorrow morning. 

“Thank you,” you breathed out, relieved to finally be home. 

Your husband doesn’t respond as he walk away to place your shoes into the closet. The lingering taste of wine churns your stomach, you needed some water to wash it out.

Carefully, you amble into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with fresh water. Praying it can finally rid you of that foul flavor. 

After three glasses of wine, your stakeholders and coworkers finally turned their attention elsewhere. You’ve entertained them enough.

Granting you the freedom to push away anymore glasses your boss offered, only getting him to stop after you agreed to his offer of driving you home.

What a troublesome night, your mood sourer than it has been for the past few months. 

As you fill up your glass again your ears catch the pattering of Alhaitham’s steps as he trails into the kitchen, stopping only a few paces away watching you glup down your second glass. 

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?” His husky voice resounds from behind you as his finger taps against the marble countertop. 

“No.” You fill rinse out the cup, the stubborn grip of wine not releasing your tastebuds just yet. 

“Oh? It sure looks like you did.” 

Your body stiffens as your turn the faucet off, glancing over your shoulder with eyes narrowing. 

“What do you mean by that?” Your tone a bit more sharp than you’d like it to be. 

“I’m certain you know exactly what I mean.” Alhaitham stops his tapping as he lays his palm flat on the table, teal eyes boring straight into you. 

“Well, well looks like your assumption is wrong.” 

“I doubt it, stop mincing your words and just say you enjoyed a few drinks with your boss.” 

Your body turns around fully, glaring stare connecting with his teal one. Ticking of a clock sounding throughout the quiet kitchen.

So that’s why he’s behaving like this, partners with wandering eyes tend to project their hypocritical insecurities onto the other after all. 

“Then why don’t you say you’ve been enjoying your visits to Nilou?” Something more venomous than sour wine drips off your words. 

“How is she related to this conversation?” His eyes narrowing at you, unlike the same teal irises that reflected the scarlet of her hair. 

“You know exactly what I mean.” You spat his own words back at him, maneuvering around him as you make your way back to your room. 

At this point you weren’t sure what was the cause of the headache threatening to form.

The wine? This deafening silence? Or the thought of Padisarahs?

You don’t care, you want to go to bed. The thuds of his steps weren’t far behind yours as you trek through the halls.

“Our conversation hasn’t concluded.” His deep voice ringing in your ears. 

“Yes it has.” Your room was just in sight.

“No it hasn’t.” His hand encloses around your wrist.

There you were, halfway through the doorframe of your room with the pull of his hand preventing you from getting the rest you want.

There’s no longer any space left in a shattered bottle, just a rippling ocean getting rougher and rougher with each deep breath. 

“Can’t you be honest?” His ironic, paradoxical words causes the tide to crush against each other. 

“Can’t you be honest? Do you think I wouldn’t notice your showers right as you come back from ‘work’? You’ve been driving the water bill up with your cover-up efforts.” Glaring right into those damn beryl eyes, frown breaking your stiff lips. 

“Cover-up? What a bold accusation coming from the same person who awaits a call everynight.” He mirrors your scowl. 

“Maybe its because work offers better company than this stifling house.” 

Alhaitham grip tightens on your wrist as his lips press into a firm line, indecipherable stare weighing down upon your frame. His broad shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath. 

“Strip,” he commands.

“Have you gone mad?” You snap back, unable to budge in his hold. 

“Yes, furious even.” 

It didn’t take much effort for him to make his way into your room, pulling you in as well. You could barely keep up with it all, glaring at him but it didn’t affect him one bit.

The movement causes your dress to shift. Glancing down you realize a strap of your dress slipped off, leaving one side of your breast dangerously exposed. 

With swift strides, he arrives at the edge of your bed. It’s rare for you to dawn such attire, applying a lovely shade of crimson to those plush lips, and tying your hair up so nicely. Did you get all dressed up for Bahram? Why couldn’t it be for his viewing only? 

Tsk, noisy nonsense is cluttering his mind, those the claws of a green-eyes monster digging into his last shred of restraint. Seizing his rationality in its ugly, greedy hands tighter and tighter the longer your soft thighs pressed against his tense body.

Crashing into those crimson lips of yours, one hand positioning your face to allow his tongue to catch yours by surprise. Letting the two muscles dance together as his other hand explored the expanse of your body, pulling up the silky fabric to grant his palm the pleasure of gracing your soft thighs. 

‘Oh, so this is what he wants,’ you thought as your lips moved against his.

‘Fine, might as well experience what he’s been doing behind your back.’ The fingers of your free hand tangling themselves into his hair, tugging at ashen locks with disregard. 

Unfortunately, the pesky need for oxygen made Alhaitham release your lips. Chest panting as his darkened gaze observed the state of your lips. Crimson smeared over the corner of your glossy lips. You put so much effort into painting them, making sure they were nicely defined. 

However, it felt so cathartic to know that he’s the one who messed them up, no one at the party saw them like this. Only him. 

“I’ll ask you one last time, strip now.” Not letting go of your face. 

“Go to hell,” you spat out. 

And the last chain broke, dignity and self-control reduced to nothing more than ash as his hunger commanded him. Go to hell you say?

“Then I’ll take you with me,” he sneers through clenched teeth, pushing you into the mattress face down. One hand restraining those disobedient hands of yours behind your back.

Before protest could leave your lips a rip resounds through the hot air.  Alhaitham knows he should be delicate with it. That he should carefully pull the zipper down your back, letting the fabric naturally drape off your frame.

 However, a man who starved for six years now knows nothing about patience. 

You feel the silky fabric slip off, leaving you in nothing but your panties. Teal eyes honing in on the darkened patch on the thin fabric, a dry chuckle leaving his lips.

“Wet just from this? Or were you wet during dinner too?” He pulls the fickle fabric off. 

You wiggle in his hold, face flushed with frustrated embarrassment at your current predicament. However, in terms of strength you’ll always lose to Alhaitham. A violent flinch jolts your body as he runs a finger runs along your glistening slit. 

“What a lewd thing, has he seen this slutty hole of yours?” Alhaitham watches the way your cunt quivers with each stroke of his digit. 

“Do really you think I’d sleep with my boss?” Your voice slightly muffled by the sheets as you turn your face to the side. 

“I need to confirm it.”

With two fingers, he spreads your soft pussy lips apart, keen eyes observing the trail of slick starting to drip down from between them. He sees the muscles of your entrance clenching around nothing, he glides a digit in, feeling your slick walls clamp around it. Clear essence drooling out. He hums in satisfaction before sliding his finger out, you bite into the sheet to silence any sounds. 

“Enjoying this?” He muses, fingers spreading your cunt again. 

You don’t respond, but the glare you’re sending his way makes his lip curl into a smirk. For once he could read the emotions behind your stoic eyes, he wants to see more.

Trailing his fingers up your slit until they bump into a hard nub making your body twitch. Softly pinching your clit between two fingers, he slowly rolls the senesitve bundle of nerves as you bite harder to stop your moans. 

Cunt slick but unstretched, clit throbbing but not swollen, only your essence coating his fingers. Looks Bahram hasn’t gotten the chance to taste you yet.

Calming the thrashing of a green-eyed beast just slightly. However, this wasn’t enough. Alhaitham feels the parchedness of his throat as his eyes scan over your glistening slit.  

Alhaitham once believed that the touches exchanged when his fingers brush against yours while passing plates, when you pull a blanket up his napping frame, or when your bodies briefly pressed against each other as he helps you hang the laundry out was enough to satisfy him. That he could sustain off just borrowing your lotions. 

Such a false assumption, a foolish one even. As the heat radiating off your body melts away another restraint he imposed on himself. Alhaitham realizes just how much he’s been starving himself. 

Thumb rubbing firm circles into your clit, the pleasure making your legs close together, trying to shut him out but the grip of his hand stops your attempt. 

“Tsk, stay still.” His strength pinning your legs apart, showing you just how ‘feeble’ he was. 

In retaliation, he pushes your legs further apart. Exposing more of yourself to him, it was embarrassing enough to almost make your lust-hazed mind care.

Thick fingers gathered up drops of slick leaking out from your dripping cunt as your lewd hole unable to contain its greed. Allowing him more access, feeding into his greed further.

Two fingers tracing the rim of your entrance before it slowly pushes through. Instantly, your gummy walls clamped down on his fingers, making him hiss through clenched teeth.

“If you’re grasping my fingers this much, how will you take something larger?” His breath ghosting over your cunt. 

Your toes curled in the air as a kiss was pressed against your throbbing clit, almost enough to let a gasp escape you. Biting back a drawn out moan as his tongue traced your leaking slit, starting with your sensitive numb then traveling up to lap at the essence escaping your stretched hole with the smooth muscle then back to flick at your clit.

You never realized just how pent up your body was until whines and moans just fell from your lips like water. Turning your head away, pressing your face into the mattress in hopes it’d catch those sinful sounds. 

“Tsk.” Alhaitham escalated the pace of his fingers. 

A sharp slap against your puffy clit, shooting white-hot pleasure up your core. With a gasp you pulled away from the sheets, unable to stop the moan which tumbled out. Hastily, you tried to muffle your voice again, only for a warning squeeze on your still pinned wrist stopping you.

You’ve enjoyed your silence, he’s been deprived of those sultry moans, so for tonight let him enjoy them to the fullest extent. 

Your back arched, hips bucking in the air. Your little pussy finally rewarded his hard work with a rush of slick soaked the sheets and his face further. Swiftly removing his fingers again with a disgraceful squelch, only for his tongue to dip into the cavern they left. He slurped and lapped up every drop of your nectar, quenching a thirst he never knew he had. 

Overstimulated clit trying to flinch away from each nerve-frying lick while your weeping walls beckoned his tongue to go deeper. The tightness in his pants was painful now, engorged tip rubbing against the fabric and soaking it in precum.

With his unyielding hold, his half-lidded eyes, and his unrelenting tongue lapping up all of your essence while bullying your poor nub, you were powerless. Unable to hide from his hungry gaze, nails digging into his unflinching hand, and chest heaving with the mounting pleasure in your core.

Scowl long replaced by a loose expression, the pleasure ripping through every fiber of your being. Shooting up from your curled toes to the eyes seeing only the back of your head, the edge growing closer and closer-

Alhaitham pulls away, your slick dripping down his chin glistening in the moonlight illuminating the room. Cruelly pulling back from the edge before you could taste true euphoria. No, he doesn’t think you deserve it yet. Flipping your body effortless on your back, wrists now pinned above your head.

His teal eyes drank the sight of your breast bouncing with each pant, puffy cunt clenching desperately, and the glimmering tearful eyes rivaling the stars themselves. A sight so sinful the devil is writhing in envy. 

“What the fuck?!” You thrashed in his hold again, mourning the lost of the orgasm your body was denied. 

“With this attitude, you should be grateful for what you got. I’m tired of waiting.” Alhaitham sneers next to your ear, chest pressed against yours before his warmth pulls away. 

Tugging his pants and boxers down his thighs with a hand still coated in your nectar, trailing kisses and red splotches in the valley of your breast as his precum and your slick mixed with each stroke of his shaft. The wet sounds even reached your ears.

Making the mistake of looking down, your eyes widened as they comprehended his length and girth. Your restless pussy twitching but your legs closing as to preserve the last of your ego. Something thick pressed against your dripping pussy making your hole quiver and legs freeze as his tip threatens breach your entrance.

“Trying to be coy now? When you were moaning like a whore mere minutes ago.” Smug teal eyes peering down at you. 

Another frown breaks onto your face at his pointed words. Your tongue is just as sharp, best to remind him of that fact.

“What a practiced line, you say the same things to her as well?” A mocking smile curling your lip as a scowl tugs down at his.

Too self-satisfied with your small victory to notice his large hand gripping onto your hips, aligning himself with you. With a sinful squelch, Alhaitham snaps his cock fully in. Your lips thrown open with a gasp as your back arches off the mattress.

“I. Never. Had. An. Affair. So, instead of spewing out anymore nonsense, why don’t you just moan instead?” Puncuating each word with thrust of his hips, feeling the vibration of each syllable in his chest pinned against yours. 

Jagged words ready at the tip of your tongue, yet you couldn’t form a single sentence. With a broken moan your back slowly descended back onto the sheets.

Tearing a hiss from his clenched teeth and a breathless moan from you, gummy walls contracting down tighter and tighter with each girthy inch pushed as his balls slap against the slick down your ass. Nothing could’ve prepared him for this. Alhaitham stays there, tip pressed against the deepest part of you, a furrow between his brows.

Alhaitham knows he should be gentle. He knows he should allow your walls to grow accustomed to his girth by slowly rolling his hips against yours. 

However, you just won’t stay still. Mewling and whining against his frame, nails clawing at his hand as your legs fluttered in the air. Each movement makes your pussy slurp around his stiff cock, lapping at the girth as if trying to pull him deeper than he already was. 

Tempting his hunger like a lunatic testing a starved beast, it’ll only be so long before the hunger bends the iron bars containing it and devours you. 

“AH!” A sharp slap of his hips rips a moan from your lips. 

Alhaitham pulls you off his cock until the tip threatens to slip out, then thrusts it all back in one fluid motion. Instinctively your teeth clamps down on your disobedient lips, desperately trying to bite back those lewd noises. The slurping of your greed welcoming him over and over was embarrassing enough. 

What a selfish move, trying to deprive him once more of your pretty moans. Provoking that ugly appetite within the pits of his stomach again. If you won’t behave, Alhaitham decides to fuck the stubborness out of you. 

Each thrust of his hips into yours rocking the sturdy bed, bullying your poor sensitive pussy still recovering from a ruined orgasm. Hands and hips held within bruising grips. The pitched gasps every time he railed into a certain spot didn’t escape his keen ears, his hips now angled to bully that spot with each thrust.

How helpless you were to the devastating rush of dopamine, endorphins, and oxytocin. Unable to ground yourself on anything, your last wisps of sanity swept away by the waves of pleasure. 

A groan reverberates deep in Alhaitham’s chest, the sudden convulsions of your slick walls trying to milk him. It was almost impossible to move with the way your pussy just kept clamping down.

Unfortunately, his hips couldn’t seem to care, operating solely on selfish desire.

Fortunately, a fresh wave of arousal aided in his rhythm, relentless slams bouncing your body and bed. 

Strength long leaving your arms Alhaitham releases his hold on them in favor of supporting your limp hips, a breathy chuckle leaving his lips as lust-hazed eyes honed in on the frothy white ring forming on his shaft.

All your lips could do was babble out nothings as the headboard continued to beat the poor wall. Cunt thanking his cock with a contraction every time his tip knocks against your weakness. 

The sweet moans caressing his ears, the filthy slaps echoing through the room, and your walls pulling him deeper and deeper, Alhaitham was at his limit.

There was nothing separating you two, he had enough sense left to know that. Reeling in the reins of his greed, he pulls back, fingers digging deeper into your plush skin. Well, he tried to pull back, but your locked ankles behind his back foiled this plan. 

He felt so hefty in you, heavy balls slapping against your ass as his girth and length tore apart your sensibility. Something deep inside your cunt pleaded to be fed, to be filled, pushing your limp legs to lock ankles.

He feels a bit too far for your liking, blindly your hands groped at his body. Finally, reaching his face, cupping it roughly, you crash his lips down onto yours. Tasting yourself on his tongue still, but you couldn’t care less.

As your tongues tangled together, Alhaitham reached his limit. Pressing his thick tip as deep as it’d go, thick ropes of cum start to coat your walls with each twitch of his cock. His shaky moans swallowed up by your kiss.

The slurping of your pussy milking his still throbbing cock only prolonged his hunger. 

Dropping his head into the space between your neck and shoulder, he relishes in what he’s been depriving himself of. Feeling the faint shiver of your neck against his face.

Something was fogging up his mind, Autumn breeze doing nothing to quell the heat burning him.

–

“Ah! Mmmh! A-ah Ah!” 

The first rays of dawn breaking through the navy sky, the light so flushed by the scene it witnessed, it’s pink hue illuminated skin into the room heavy with lust and the slap of wet skin. 

“N-no more… too m-Ah!-much-ch.” Intoxicated brain sputtering out broken sentences. 

 It really was too much, you’ve cum too much to bother remembering, from the creamy drops dripping onto the soaked sheets, he’s also cummed too much.

Pussy overflowing and spasming with each thrust pushing more milky seed out.

Cock rubbing its red tip rawer with each quiver of your gooey walls. 

Six years of starvation will make any man forget gluttony is a sin.

“Too much? No More?” A husky pant between each word as Alhaitham continues with his punishing rhythm. 

“If that’s the case… then why is your pussy refusing to let me go?” His chest pressed against your back, caging you further as his breath tickles your ear. 

Unable to form a sentence anymore, your head pathetically shook side to side, stubbornly denying the obvious. Looks like he hasn’t fucked out of you yet, better change that. Large fingers digging further down on bruised hips, as the pistoning of his thrusts escalated.

Bed frame pushed to its limits.

Each smack of his hips against your limp body further drowning your pride out in a flood of dopamine. It’s mounting again, that familiar pressure building up in your core, making your toes curl in painful arches.

There’s a sudden flick at your swollen clit, walls flinching as his fingers encircles around the abused nub. 

“Who’s making you feel this way?” His husky voice too close to your ear.

Groundless pride preventing you from unsealing you lips, refusing to feed into his ego anymore than your wanton moans already did. 

“Who are you showing this shameful face to?” There’s an edge to his voice again, why must you be so stubborn?

Once more you refused to answer. Making Alhaitham’s jaw clench and his fingers roll your clit harsher, making your bruised hips thrash.  

“Who’s shape is engrained into this lewd body?” Voice dangerously low as he pushes his thick tip deeper against your beaten and painted walls, fingers never stopping their torment on your little nub. 

The edge was getting closer, you knew you’ll fall off it soon, you’ll dive head first into the euphoric sea of dopamine, endorphins, and oxytocin and drown.

“Ah-ah Al-mmh!” You try to collect your breath.

Alhaitham quickens his fingers on your clit, feeling your greedy cunt clamp down on him again, walls suckling his twitching tip as his balls tighten. He’s close, but he needs you to say what he’s been waiting to hear all night. 

“Alh-ah a-a…” Your hips shaking violently in his hold now. 

Lust-glazed eyes staring straight into equally hazed teal eyes. Shaky hands slowly weaving themselves into his damp ash locks, gently pulling his ear closer to your lips, your hoarse voice just barely audible.

“A bastard.” 

Self-satisfied smirk plastered over your loose face as your tear blurred vision catches the stunned expression on his handsome face. 

The heat of his touch, the chemical stirring in your brain, and the pleasure frying your nerves made a delirious smile grace smudged lips. Your sight so hazed by lust you couldn’t see where your smile was even directed to.

Alhaitham wanted to etch the sight of your debauch face, smeared makeup and glazed eyes rolled back, into his memories forever.

Too caught off guard by your response to remind his hand to stop its movement before it was already too late. Eyes seeing the back of your head, back arching under his frame, you fell back into the all consuming waves of pleasure. 

A hard earned victory in this veiled battle of two egos. Exhaustion seeping into every fiber of your being. The pale pink of twilight dimming in your vision as the dark hands of sleep covers your eyes.

Somewhere in the middle of drifting off into a blank nothingness, you feel a hand tenderly guiding your head to rest on a soft pillow. 

Your eyelids twitch and brows furrow as the brightness of the room crept its way behind your shut eyes. Unable to retreat back into the dark embrace of sleep, you begrudgingly open your heavy lids.

Greeted by blurred shapes and fuzzy colors, you slowly blink your unfocused eyes. Gradually, the shapes and colors merge into distinguishable objects: a mug left on your bedside table with vapors rising from its rim. 

“It’s morning-after tea.” A husky voice followed by the distinct flip of paper tenses every muscle in your body. 

Alhaitham’s still here. You wish he wasn’t, you wish he’d realize last night was a mistake created from the clashing of egos, you wish the other side of your bed was empty.

So why did the tightness in your chest melt away with the mere sound of his voice?

You drag your sore body up from the sheets, shaky hands supporting the weight of numb legs and throbbing hips. Your sealed lips refusing to give him the satisfaction of any audible ques of your current state.

Sitting at the edge of your bed, back bare of anything but your hair draping over the marked skin facing him, you took the warm cup into your hands. 

A harmony of methodical sips and soft turns of pages fill the room, an open window washing away the haze of lust with an Autumn breeze. Just as the last bit of tea slides down your throat a gentle slap of a book snapping close brings an end to the heavy silence. 

“It’s unreliable,” Alhaitham announces. 

Peering over your shoulder with a quirked brow, freezing as you recognize the book clutched in his hands. Not waiting for a response, he continues. 

“Anyone with eyes can see how his biases exude through each sentence. He only studied 15 couples, not an appropriate sample size for a world filled with millions of pairs. His experiments have yet to be replicated, it seems his status is what got this nonsense published.” He sets the book down. 

“What are you trying to say?” Your eyes narrow in suspicion. 

“Your theory of phenylethylamine having a shelf life is based on nonsense.” His eyes connect with yours with that familiar indifference. 

A frown twists your face, so he still wants to argue huh. Of course, what else did you expect? You and him have long gone down the bitter circular path you’ve seen travled before.

Irritation rising in your chest, like Alhaitham had jabbed his finger into a wound you’ve yet to heal. 

“Oh, then your theory must be the intrinsic truth, huh?” Words leaving an acidic aftertaste on your tongue. 

“I never-”

“Look at you, so correct with no data to support your vague mathematical thesis.” You cut him off, anger replacing the soreness of your legs. 

Cup knocking against a bedside table as your hand casts it to the side, getting off the bed you march into your closet, pulling a random shirt on without regard of your movements wrinkling the fabric.

You just needed to leave this room, just being by his side is making your blood pressure rise. Your bed creaks as Alhaitham gets up as well, but your back was already through the door. 

Two sets of steps trekking through the halls, paces mismatched as one tries to take quicker steps to counter the broader strides of the other. Alhaitham keeps pace with your escalating march.��

“It’s a critique of his research, not you,” he voices. 

You didn’t want to hear it, sharply pivoting into your home office, but you weren’t fast enough to stop Alhaitham from following you in.

Now a husband wants to spend time with his wife, where was this before? 

“It’s an experiment conducted at the Akademiya, how is that not reliable enough? You think you can do better?” Your body whipping around with a glare directed at him, your hideous ego showing its face again. 

“Are you listening to yourself right now? Do you even believe in such a shallow analysis?” He mirrors your glare. 

“I’d rather believe in something with actual quantifiable numbers.” 

“Fine, you want quantifiable numbers? Care to calculate along with me? Or is your mind still recovering from last night?” Alhaitham folds his arms in front of his chest. 

“Go for it,” you say through gritted teeth, accepting his challenge, wanting to shush that snooty tone of his. 

“The Akasha bases its pairs off demographic, interest, and dispositions, all variables we can calculate,” he states. 

You straighten up your back, staring him in those teal eyes with your head held up high.

“Sumeru city is home to roughly 1 million people. Only 1/3 are around my age.” Alhaitham begins his trail.

“That brings that number down to about 333,333.” No delay in your response.

“Only 1 in 10 people have a personality I can tolerate, then suppose only 1 in 20 of those people can withstand mine.”

“ Rounding up that leaves about 1,667 candidates.” You tsk at his estimations, that number should be far greater than 20. 

 “Next comes shared interest, only 1 in 4 people have touched a physical book in the past year.” 

“417 left.”

Perhaps the gods didn’t think cheating you out of a childhood was enough, out of 417 people you had the misfortune of staring at his stony face. 

“Having to arrange 417 separate meetings at a small cafe would be much too burdensome for the Department of Human Relations. The scope needs to be narrowed further.” Alhaitham takes a step forward.

“Only 1 in 16 will have the patience to teach a grown man how to avoid wrinkles in his button downs.” Baritone voice losing its pointed edge. 

“26 left.”  You take a step back to preserve the space, hating how your skin craves the heat of his. 

“Only 1 in 8 of those people will allow me to borrow their books even when they know the edges of the paper will be creased when its returned.” He takes another step.

As you take another step backwards, the edge of your office desk prevents you from retreating further. The sensation of the cold wood distracting you momentarily from your calculations. 

“Then only 1 in 6 people will drape a blanket over a body that hogs an entire couch for a nap, placing a pillow under my head to ensure I don’t wake up with a sore neck.” Alhaitham doesn’t stop. 

Reaching an arm out, he firmly sets his palm on the expanse of your desk, caging you between the wood and the risk of your skin feeling the heat radiating off his body. 

“How many people are left now?” His breath ghosts the shell of your ear.

“ 0.543,” You blurted out.

A deep furrow appears between your brows, something must’ve gone wrong in your calculation, it’s impossible to have half a person. In the context of the Akasha, one person, a whole person, is matched to another.

Once more your mind ran the numbers over again, then again, and then thrice trying to recompute the figures. 

Each time the same number came back: half a person. 

“Are you mocking me with those groundless fractions? Where did you even get those statistics from?” Your pointed gaze still directed at him, did he intentionally lead you down this illogical trail? 

“Logic is neither an art nor a science but a dodge.” He peers down at you, teal gaze back to its neutral state. 

“Ha! Says the man who places logic and rationality on a pedestal, what caused such a change, Alhaitham?” You laugh dryly, not bothering to decipher the most brainless qoute you ever heard him use. 

No change in his expression as his shoulders rise with a deep inhale, exhaling slowly as he leans his face in, his finger digging his palm against lacquered wood. 

“Instead of wasting time citing subpar research, you should’ve just been honest. Then maybe I’ll give you what you want and sign those damn papers you hid away in this desk.” Voice low but steady as his gaze never leaves your frame. 

It was a strange phenomenon, the chirping of the crickets had halted as two bodies remained unmoving, not even a single grain of dust dare move. If it weren’t for the faint ticking of a hallway clock, it would’ve seemed like time had stopped.

How long has he known about the divorce papers neatly stacked away a desk drawer?

Alhaitham slowly backs his body away from yours, hand returning to his side, freeing you from the cage it created. Teal eyes carefully observes your downcast stare and stiff shoulders as guilt suffocated him.

All the emotions he bottled up, all the fervor he held back, all the desires he swallowed down. It all came tumbling out, spilling out into a murky, repulsive mess. 

“Wife.” If he had spoken any louder than a breathy whisper, that word would’ve crumbled on his tongue. 

“I love you.” Alhaitham finally allows the words which have been clinging on his tongue for years now to fall out of his mouth. 

Every inch of you froze at those three words, the weight of his stare heavy on your shoulders.

“Do you really feel nothing from those words?” Baritone voice beckoning an answer from you. 

You don’t dare lift your head, gaze downcasted and frozen. Because you know you’ll have to stare at your reflection in his eyes. 

Phenylethylamine, oxytocin, dopamine.

All these hormones and chemicals should’ve ran their course through your body. The haze should’ve faded and the abnormality of your chest should’ve corrected itself. It’s been three years at this point.

So, why is your chest aching?

The wood grain of the floor began to blur together as bitter tears compensated for the painful stinging of your irises. There it is, your brain finally short-circuits as the logic which once held up your sanity has crumbled away. 

Finally, you met his gaze, staring right at your reflection in teal irises. 

“It’s suffocating to be with you… it’s so lonely in this quiet house… it burns me like fire to touch you… yet… and y-yet see-”

“Seeing you leave will kill me, ” Alhaitham spoke the words just about to fall from the tip of your tongue.

The last piece of evidence that shattered the hypothesis he cultivated for all his life. If soulmates don’t exist, if the concept of an ‘other half’ doesn’t exist, then why is he feeling the same agony as you?

Looks like both theories were wrong in the end. Mathematics and chemistry unable to solve the enigma known as love. 

“I… I want to love… but I’m drowning… Alhaitham.” You were finally honest, you’ve been drowning all your life, thrashing hands searching for something to hold onto.

Would you be oh so kind enough to grab that pen just behind you and stab its steel nib into his chest? Alhaitham’s certain that it would hurt less than the words that left your trembling lips. 

A gentle hand cradled the back of your head as he pulls you closer. Letting those bitter tears strain his shirt and burn his skin.

No one, but the audience of a curious star and capricious gods peering down behind their blanket of clouds into this quiet house. 

Alhaitham once thought of himself as a good husband. Doing his fair share of chores and paying his half of the bills.

However, seeing your broken figure barely clinging onto his stiff frame, it’s clear that his overconfident assessment was a grave error. 

A  good husband would’ve been more attentive. A good husband would’ve noticed the tide slowly sweeping you away into the rough sea. A good, loving husband would’ve never let you sink alone in salty tears.

“Then I’ll drown with you.” His other hand grasping onto one of yours, slowly easing it away from his wrinkled shirt with soft caresses. 

Only monsters live in the deep cold sea, the only creatures able to survive the saltine waters and the pitch black nothingness. But as long as your fingers wove themselves into the gaps between his, he’ll be warm even as he sits on the sandy bottom of the murky ocean. 

Maybe that’s where the two of you belonged, two unromantic and prideful fools sitting at the bottom of the ocean.

Hand in hand so that the stupidity contained between the two of you won’t pollute anyone else. 

Gradually, those aching hiccups of yours faded into nothing more than muffled whimpers. Allowing silence to creep its way back into the gaps. The cause of this mess in the first place.

He has to remedy this, but what should he say? All those encyclopedias and journals he had thumbed through were all for naught. For Alhaitham’s mind couldn’t recall one fact from those pages.

One hand patting a slow rhythm into your back, trying to buy the man some time.

When logic and reasoning fail to explain the unexplained, folklore takes its place.

“According to legends, people used to have two pairs of hands, two pairs of feet, and two faces pointed in opposite directions.” He began.

“Back then, humans were powerful, powerful enough to threaten the gods who created them. So the gods split them in two. Cursing humans to a cruel search, desperate to be whole again.” His other hand still toying with your fingers.

You peer up at him, head still resting against his chest, feeling the soft beating of his heart. Blinking away the tears, listening to his telling of a myth. 

“That’s the origin of a soulmate.” He finishes.

A soft giggle leaves your lips, a mixture of confusion and disbelief from Alhaitham quoting a fairytale. 

“And you believe in that?” Amused gaze connecting with brilliant beryl eyes. 

“Yes…because I found you.” Alhaitham tenderly brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss against your fingers as a glint catches the sunlight. 

With a foreign sensation hugging a finger, your brows furrow. Holding your hand out toward the light again. Blinking eyes finally identify the gem which coyly appeared on your ring finger.

So that’s what he was doing, your tear stained cheeks shifting up as a smile stretches your once stiff lips.

Burying your head in the chest of the most unromantically romantic idiot you’ve ever known, a radiant laugh bubbling in your chest as it resonates off quiet walls. 

But as he is, so are you: An unromantically romantic soulmate in love. 

~Fin

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. 

[rkistars]

ʙᴏꜱꜱ ᴍᴇ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ! - ᴘ.ꜱʜ

sypnosis ☆ being the secretary of one of the most respected and successful CEO kinda sucked because all he did was overwork you and ignore you. and to get a raise, you have to pretend to be his wife for a week and you have to live in a hotel room with him but with one bed.

was this a bad idea?

genre ☆ boss! sunghoon x secretary! y/n, fluff, angst, only one bed (I can't help it)

warnings ☆ kissing, lower case intended, both of them are kinda mean lol, slightly suggestive at the end, cursing,pinterest links to imagine the scenario better lol,includes photos but not a smau!

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one ᡣ𐭩 park sunghoon’s introduction.

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on your first day at work. while most of your colleagues were friendly and welcoming, there was one person who didn't seem to extend the same courtesy - park sunghoon. It seems that despite the warm reception you received from others, park sunghoon's behavior made you feel uncomfortable or unwelcome in some way.

sunghoon is known for being a ceo of park corporation.

park corporation is a highly successful business entity that has gained immense popularity and recognition in the country. sunghoom is known for being a cold and calculative person who leaves no stone unturned when it comes to achieving success. despite his stern demeanor, he has managed to lead the company towards unprecedented growth and profitability, making it one of the most sought-after business ventures in the country.

the young and handsome ceo had quite an impact on everyone around him. thers was just something about him that made people swoon, whether it was his sharp features, the beautiful moles around his face, or his mysterious personality that left everyone curious and wanting to know more. It was impossible not to be drawn to him, and his presence seemed to fill the room with an energy that was both alluring and captivating.

despite his strikingly good looks, you found yourself unable to overlook his unpleasant personality traits. his constant arrogance, selfishness, and insensitivity made it impossible for you to find him attractive beyond his physical appearance. It was such a shame, as you had initially been drawn to him, but his negative personality traits ultimately overshadowed his good looks.

despite being a perfectionist and very strict with his employees, sunghoon is highly respected and admired by his employees . he is known for being a workaholic and overworking everyone around him. yet, his employees still treat him like a king.

for example, if you get his coffee order wrong, best believe you're fired the next day.

and that's why everyone respected and feared park sunghoon.

you seem to be experiencing a lot of frustration with your boss. from what you've shared, it sounds like he treats you differently than he does his other employees. as his secretary for the past year, you feel like he doesn't value you as a person. this treatment has left you feeling angry and disrespected.

but what confused everyone is that he never fired you. all his secretaries never lasted more than 3 months. and the only reason why you haven't quit is because putting up with his strict attitude at least helps you pay rent.

————————౨ৎ————————

two ᡣ𐭩 park sunghoon is a menace.

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over the past few weeks, work has been nothing short of a nightmare. your boss, sunghoon, seems to have taken a particular dislike to you, piling on more work than you can handle and berating you for even the smallest of mistakes - like spilling his coffee on the floor. It's as if he never wants you to catch a break. but thankfully, you have your two best friends, chaewon and jake, who also happen to be your colleagues. even though they're equally terrified of sunghoon, they still lend a sympathetic ear to your endless rants about him, all while anxiously keeping an eye out for sunghoon’s looming presence. you can't help but feel grateful for their unwavering support amidst the chaos of your work life.

you're getting very little sleep lately, barely making it to 5 hours a night due to the extra work you've taken on. as a result, you're noticing some physical changes, such as dark circles under your eyes that can't be concealed with makeup and a puffy face. Your colleagues have taken notice of your appearance and are expressing concern, especially chaewon. It seems that sunghoon, who you believe is responsible for the extra workload, hasn't acknowledged how tired you are and seems to be oblivious to the impact it's having on you. you're starting to feel frustrated with sunghoon's lack of empathy towards your situation and are beginning to see him as a bit of a menace.

as you were typing an email, your frustration with sunghoon was growing. you couldn't help but curse him in your head for the extra work he’s been giving you. however, as you continued to type away, you suddenly heard a deep and masculine voice behind you, causing you to jump in surprise.

“miss l/n, I’d like to talk to you today at 3 p.m. and don't be late.” sunghoon emphasizing on the “don't”.

ugh, that jerk. does he have any empathy?

————————౨ৎ————————

three ᡣ𐭩 the meeting.

————————౨ৎ————————

as you take a step into sunghoon’s office, you immediately notice his piercing gaze fixed on you. the atmosphere feels tense and serious as if the slightest misstep could have serious consequences. you can see that sunghoon is in no mood for small talk, and you brace yourself for what's to come. the air around you feels cold and unwelcoming, adding to the already heavy feeling in the room. despite the uncomfortable environment, you try to maintain your composure and focus on the matter at hand.

“you’re 5 minutes late, miss l/n.”

“my apologies sir. I was doing the papers you gave me.” you trying your best to seem apologetic.

taking a seat across from sunghoon, he puts his papers and books aside and starts to talk.

“so you're aware of our business trip coming right?”

“yes sir. I am.”

“great. so we have a grand ball and everyone has to bring a partner. and uh…” sunghoon suddenly got a bit hesitant.

“I don't seem to have a partner yet. so I was wondering if you would accept being my partner for the ball. It will be good for business.”

park sunghoon wants you to be his partner? he's never asked for something like this.

“I am honored, sir but I am afraid that I cannot accept tha-”

“wait.”

“I can give you a raise and everything will be paid for.”

why is he so persistent with this? this cannot be park sunghoon.

“okay, sir.”

————————౨ৎ————————

four ᡣ𐭩 the trip.

————————౨ৎ————————

as you finish packing your bags and getting ready to leave, you take a moment to look back at your phone and scroll through the messages with sunghoon. you read through each text carefully, taking note of every detail, from the time and location of your meeting points to the items you both agreed to bring along. you want to make sure you remember everything so that your trip goes smoothly.

you're going to paris, staying at a five-star hotel, and everything is paid for. the trip can't be that bad right? wrong. because when you arrive at the hotel you're staying at, your mood immediately changes.

“there must be a mistake mam.” sunghoon giving you an unnecessary glare.

“yeah, we are very sure we booked different rooms.”

“I apologize sir but all our other rooms are full so we can give you separate rooms in about 3 days.”

great. you're stuck with the man you hate the most. you doubt he’ll be a good roommate.

“okay. but I want the separate rooms as soon as possible.” sunghoon sounding irritated. now that's park sunghoon. unlike the sunghoon you saw in the office.

as you step into the room, a feeling of horror engulfs you. you take a quick glance around and realize there's only one bed in the room. the thought of sharing the bed with sunghoon makes you feel uneasy. you know he would absolutely not agree to it, and you're not comfortable with the idea either. you start to wonder how you'll manage to spend the night without a proper sleeping arrangement.

“sleep on the couch.”

“Is that seriously how you treat your secretary?” sunghoon scoffing.

“look, what about we take turns until we get separate rooms.”

“fine.”

————————౨ৎ————————

five ᡣ𐭩 the first night.

————————౨ৎ————————

the first night you took the bed and sunghoon took the couch. the bed was big and fluffy but you kinda felt bad for sunghoon because the couch barely had space for his height.

and you couldn't sleep because you kept looking at sunghoon. you hated the fact that he looked so hot in regular pajamas which you hadn't seen him wear before. and what made him hotter was his messy hair down. ugh if only his manners matched his looks.

as you tried to doze off, you couldn't help but notice him sitting quietly at his desk, completely engrossed in his work. his hair was disheveled and fell messily around his face, but it only made him look more attractive. he wore a simple black t-shirt that hung loosely on his frame, paired with cozy grey sweatpants. his glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, giving him an intellectual air.

you kept stealing glances at him and he caught you a few times which made you flustered and immediately turn to the other side.

the ball is in 3 days which makes you nervous because the ball is filled with millionaires and celebrities. and you've never even been to a concert.

gosh why did you accept the offer.

————————౨ৎ————————

six ᡣ𐭩 day one.

————————౨ৎ————————

the next morning, sunghoon seemed to already have left.

stretching a little, you see a note on the counter.

| hello l/n.

| I have left early for a business meeting. I have booked ______ restaurant for your breakfast in the lobby. enjoy.

-sunghoon

he reserved an entire restaurant for you? that's oddly sweet of him.

quickly getting dressed in simple clothes, you go downstairs to the restaurant sunghoon.

the restaurant was filled with various foods and nice attire.

you enjoyed the breakfast a lot. the waiters treated you like a queen and you probably had the best food you've had in a while.

and after you've finished your breakfast, you decide to look around the hotel.

the hotel definitely deserved it's 5-star rating. the building was fancy with gold everywhere.

as you were scanning the area, your attention was drawn towards an office space nearby, where you spotted someone you recognized - sunghoon.

when a staff noticed you, she excitedly opened the door.

“you must be mr. park's wife!”

“ah- you must be mistake-”

“honey! come inside.” sunghoon going to you wrapping his arm around your waist.

what the hell is going on.

you taking a seat beside sunghoon, you angrily whisper to him.

“what the hell are you doing.”

“just play along with it. I’ll tell you later.”

what did you get yourself into?!

after the meeting ended, you dragged sunghoon to your hotel room angrily.

“care to explain?” raising your eyebrows.

“okay look, the other businessmen always pressured me to have a wife and I was tired of them asking about my love life so I just told them I was married to someone.” sunghoon giving you a nervous look.

“are you kidding me? this wasn't in our deal!”

“what do you want me to do?!”

“I don't know! tell them you were lying?!”

“I can't for God's sake! can't you just play along with it for a month?!”

“no, I can't!”

“I’ll give you a higher raise and a break from work alright?”

gosh, why does he bribe you to do things all the time? but man you needed a break. why does his tactic always work?

“fine but tell them we divorced or something when we're done.”

“deal.”

————————౨ৎ————————

seven ᡣ𐭩 awkward night.

————————౨ৎ————————

It was truly uncomfortable to be in the same room as Sunghoon. the tension between the two of you was palpable, and it was clear that you both were trying your best to avoid any kind of eye contact or conversation.

and today it was sunghoons turn to have the bed.

you didn't really mind because the couch was big enough for your smaller figure. you just hope the night goes quickly.

gladly you felt yourself drifting to sleep.

⭐︎switch! to sunghoons pov..⭐︎

sunghoon felt stupid. why did he lie to powerful businessmen just for them to get off his ass?

and with you out of all people to choose? he hated you. or so he thought.

as much as it pained him to admit it, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of fondness and appreciation for your endearing appearance. there you were, peacefully asleep on the couch, your features softened by a gentle slumber. Your eyes radiated a subtle luminescence, making you seem almost ethereal, and your face was adorned with delicate, pleasing features that he found undeniably attractive. despite his reservations, he couldn't help but acknowledge that you were, in fact, quite cute.

he never even had a crush on anyone his whole life. he didn't know what to do.

what do you say to your crush? do you flirt with them or is that cringey? sunghoon founded that cringe.

so he resorted to one thing he was good at, running from his feelings and acting cold.

but these past few days, you've gotten prettier than before. was it the oversized pajamas? or was it that you kept looking at him and getting flustered, or was it just you?

sunghoon couldn't resist staring at you while you were sleeping, you looked so peaceful and adorable with your eyes closed and your lips slightly pouted. sunghoon could hear a soft, gentle snore coming from you, and it was such a comforting sound. watching you sleep like that was a moment of pure tranquility, and it made sunghoon adore your presence even more.

he wanted to bury his face in your neck while you were playing with his hair. ah, sunghoon wanted to scream.

he couldn't resist the urge to crouch down and take a closer look at your peaceful sleeping figure. As he observed you, he noticed that your blanket had fallen off and he carefully fixed it, ensuring you were comfortable. he couldn't resist the urge to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, admiring your beauty even in your slumber.

“you drive me crazy honey.” he whispers.

————————౨ৎ————————

eight ᡣ𐭩 the next morning.

————————౨ৎ————————

⭐︎back! to your pov.⭐︎

when you woke up, sunghoon’s head was resting next to yours.

you are not sure how this happened, but at that moment, it didn't seem to matter. your faces were so close that you almost couldn't breathe. the intensity of the moment was palpable, and you found yourself lost in the connection between you.

while trying to get up without waking up your boss, you tiptoe to the bathroom.

what the hell happened? and why did this happen? you were a blushing mess.

and with your luck, sunghoon was knocking on the bathroom door.

“y/n, are you okay?”

shit shit shit your entire face was red. wait.. did he just use your first name?!

“yup! um.. sunghoon” that was so embarrassing.

————————౨ৎ————————

nine ᡣ𐭩 the night before the ball.

————————౨ৎ————————

the day went by pretty quickly. you ate breakfast, worked, napped, and avoided sunghoon.

as the day of the ball approached, you couldn't help but feel extremely nervous. your mind was plagued with thoughts of what could go wrong - what if you tripped and fell in front of everyone? or what if you wear the wrong dress and become the laughingstock of the event? these thoughts were making you more and more anxious as time went on, and you couldn't shake off the feeling of dread that was slowly creeping up on you.

as you lay in bed, you find yourself tossing and turning restlessly. the ball of stress in your stomach seems to grow larger with each passing moment, making it difficult for you to settle down. how much you wish you were in someone's comforting embrace right now, someone who could help chase away the anxious thoughts and ease the tension in your body.

it's already been an hour and you have no sign of sleeping. this is bad.

what if you wake up late? what if your eye bags are too dark? you needed to look perfect tomorrow.

“sunghoon..”

“yes.?” sunghoon said in a raspy sleepy voice.

“I can't sleep. can I um..”

“sleep with you?”

you found yourself straining to make out sunghoon's face in the darkness. you couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret for asking him to meet you at this time. the lack of light made it difficult to read his expression or gauge his reaction to your conversation, leaving you feeling uneasy and uncertain about how to proceed.

he isn't answering. gosh, why would you ask your boss to cuddle with you?

“sure.” you getting caught off guard.

as you felt sunghoon carrying you up on the bed, your heart was pounding like crazy.

as sunghoon lifted you up in his arms, you couldn't help but notice how his body felt warm and inviting against yours. his muscular arms wrapped around you securely, creating a sense of comfort and safety that you had never experienced before. you could feel his steady heartbeat against your chest, and the gentle rhythm of his breath as he held you close. It was a moment that you wished could last forever, as you found yourself lost in the warmth and security of his embrace.

the sensation he evoked was one of comfort, which was quite unusual as he typically caused stress for you. however, at this moment, you found yourself feeling at ease in his presence. perhaps there was something different about him today that allowed him to bring you a sense of comfort.

as you nestled close to him, you could feel the warmth emanating from his body. his heartbeat was as quick as yours, and you could hear it thumping in his chest. he had his arm wrapped around your waist, and his hand held you securely, making you feel safe and protected.

you could feel the exhaustion taking over your body. the gentle sound of the wind outside the window, and the dim light filtering through the curtains, added to the peaceful company holding you in his arms. within moments, you found yourself drifting away into a deep slumber, feeling completely relaxed and at ease.

————————౨ৎ————————

ten ᡣ𐭩 the ball.

————————౨ৎ————————

today was a highly anticipated day - the day of the ball. you had been eagerly awaiting this day for days and had spent countless hours planning and preparing your attire. as the time of the ball drew closer, you began to feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. you carefully selected your outfit, making sure every detail was perfect. From the jewelry you chose to the shoes on your feet, everything had to be just right. As you stood in front of the mirror, you took a deep breath and admired your reflection. you were ready to make an entrance and have a night to remember.

you were wearing a beautiful silky white dress that gracefully flowed down your figure. the dress was complemented by your bright silver jewelry which added a touch of elegance to your overall look. the jewelry included a pair of exquisite earrings, a matching necklace, and a bracelet that sparkled under the light. you couldn't help but notice how stunning you looked.

as you walked into the lobby, you noticed Sunghoon standing there. As he turned to look at you, you felt his eyes scanning you from head to toe. It made you wonder if he was checking you out or just simply taking in your appearance. The way he looked at you made you feel a little self-conscious, but at the same time, you couldn't help but feel flattered by the attention.

as he walked towards you, a smile spread across his face and he greeted you with a compliment, "Wow, you look absolutely stunning today". The sincerity in his voice made you feel appreciated and confident in your appearance and your face a bright shade of red.

as you stepped out of the venue, his hand gently rested on your hip, guiding you toward the waiting limo. you couldn't help but steal a glance at him and admire his impeccable look - the crisp navy suit, the perfectly styled hair, and the charming smile that made your heart skip a beat.

as you step into the ballroom, you can't help but be in awe of the stunning ambiance that surrounds you. the dim-lit lights cast a warm glow, illuminating the intricate details of the walls and adding to the overall enchanting atmosphere. you take a moment to appreciate the stunning attire of the guests, each outfit carefully chosen to match the elegance of the event.

as sunghoon walks away to greet the other businessmen, you take a moment to look around the luxurious ballroom. the soft glow of the chandeliers casts a warm light on the elegant decor, which is adorned with intricate floral arrangements. In the background, the sound of romantic music fills the air, creating a dreamy and enchanting atmosphere. you sway to the gentle rhythm of the song "aphrodite" by rini, feeling the smoothness of the marble floor beneath your feet. the fragrance of freshly cut flowers and the aroma of delicious food tantalize your senses, making you feel more alive than ever. all around you, people are chatting and laughing, enjoying the festivities of this grand event.

after dancing for a while, you take a break and head to the bar to quench your thirst. as you sip your drink, you take in the lively atmosphere around you. the dance floor is filled with couples swaying to the music, guests laughing and mingling, and in the midst of it all, you spot sunghoon. he looks absolutely stunning, with his charming smile and magnetic aura.

as you were engrossed in admiring him, with your eyes fixated on him, and your mind lost in thoughts, a random middle-aged man, with a slightly hunched posture, appears on the horizon. He seems to be walking towards you with a purpose.

“hey, sweetheart. what's a beautiful young woman like you drinking alone?” giving you a creepy smile.

the older male putting his hand on your cheek and holding your waist without your consent, you immediately back away in surprise.

“what are you doing?!”

“relax sweetie..” the creepy man chuckling.

right. you were “married” to sunghoon. that can be an excuse to get out of this situation.

“sir I'm happily married. get away from me”

the man getting angry, he says defensively.

“whatever! I don't want a slut like you anyway!”

as you were about to voice your opinion, you suddenly felt a strong hand on your shoulder. startled, you turned around and saw a tall, muscular man standing behind you. before you could react, he grabbed your arm and pulled you closer, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine.

“if you ever speak disrespectfully about my wife, i’ll kill you.”

the creepy man chuckling seemed to piss sunghoon off more.

“sorry, that sounded like a joke. I will actually kill you.”

the man angrily backing away while scoffing, you turn to sunghoon.

“thank you..”

“no need to say sorry. I can't let anyone talk bad about my princess.”

at that moment, you feel your cheeks start to flush and your heart rate picks up. you try to turn away to hide your embarrassment, but suddenly sunghoon's hand is on your chin, gently but firmly guiding your gaze back to his. you meet his intense gaze, feeling a jolt of electricity pass between you. despite your nerves, you can't help but feel a sense of safety and comfort in his touch.

as you stand there, lost in thought, he gently reaches out and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingers lightly brushing against your skin. you feel his breath on your ear as he leans in and whispers something soft and sweet, his voice barely above a whisper. the sound of his voice sends shivers down your spine and you can't help but feel a flutter in your chest.

“I wanna make you mine so bad.”

“then do it..” putting your arms around his neck.

“fuck.. you make me go crazy.”

“do I now?”

you tilt your head a little and sunghoon giving you a small nod, you then reach out and pull him closer to you. as he moves in, you feel the warmth of his body and the gentle rise and fall of his breath. you look into his eyes, feeling a connection growing between you both, and suddenly realize how much you always cared for him.

In the moment when sunghoon is about to kiss you, he gently holds your face with his hands and brings it closer to his. as he looks into your eyes, he softly asks for your consent by saying "may I?" in a respectful and considerate tone.

as you look at him with longing in your eyes, he notices your desire and leans in to kiss you. the touch of his lips on yours sends a shiver down your spine, and you respond eagerly, deepening the kiss. you can feel the heat radiating from his body as he wraps his arms around you, and you lose yourself in the sensation of his lips moving against yours. the passion between you intensifies with each passing moment, and you find yourself unable to resist his embrace.

as you both passionately kiss each other, he lifts you up into his arms and carries you to his car outside. the desire and hunger in his eyes are undeniable as he holds you tightly, lost in the moment. the room is quiet and dimly lit, creating an intimate atmosphere that adds to the intensity of the moment. you can feel his heart beating fast against your chest as you both give in to your physical desires, letting the world around you fade away.

who knew you’d end up making out with your boss who you swore you hated?

————————౨ৎ————————

bonus ᡣ𐭩 oh well!

————————౨ৎ————————

as you woke up with sunghoon beside you, you check your phone for any emails.

but instead of emails, you see hundreds of notifications from twitter, messenger, and Instagram.

when you open twitter, you immediately gasp in panic.

you just realized. when you two kissed, you were in sunghoons car with the door open with thousands of people being able to see the two of you anytime.

facepalming yourself, you check the 10+ notifications from chaewon.

before you can answer her texts, you hear a sleepy voice beside you.

“you hated me huh?” sunghoon grinning in amusement.

“can you blame me? you were awful.”

sunghoon chuckling, you kiss him.

oh well, you wouldn't mind the famous life if you were with him.

written by rkistars.

[steveandbuckysdaughter]

I am so so so so so TIRED to see people fatshaming two perfectly healthy girls because they have round faces. It’s disgusting.

The actresses of Mai and Azula are on point for their roles. Hell, if they were chosen there must be a reason, it’s not like there’s no Asian actresses out there they could choose from.

People can’t accept that Azula can have a characterization beyond “crazy and sadist sicko”. She’s a perfectionist. She’s an asset to her father. She’s jealous of Zuko’s birthright and of how it might take what she has away. Those are things that OG Azula too had. The only difference is that we actually see it in season one and have a background on her, rather than writing it in a rant. And what has been added only makes her a more complex character, given the change in the family dynamic as well.

And Mai? The actress is talented, she delivers a good Mai, and does justice to the character. She’s 17 and at the beginning of her career, of course it won’t be perfect. She gets to grow. Thing is, you guys won’t let her, because a square jaw scares you so flipping bad that you feel the need to shame her for it.

Everyone is a body positivity advocate until a girl with a rounder face shape is cast as a character in a live action you are NOT forced to watch? Seriously?

I’ve seen so many people on the internet calling them all sort of names, fatshaming them, insulting their work without even focusing on the acting. And I’m like, what’s to fatshame there? Let me tell you: nothing.

If I have to put it through your thick head like this, so be it. Even though I hate talking about and comparing bodies.

This below is a picture of Azula’s actress.

She has the face card, she has the jawline, and she has a fit, enviable body. And you still have the audacity to “fat-shame” her?

These two pictures are in costume. Again, face card and an enviable body. She even has the expression for Azula. You see a girl with a rounder shape of face and will automatically go “no she’s too cute to be Azula!!” Dude. No. When she will actually deliver as the crazy girl we know, she will devour. She will, and you all will switch back because that’s what you are, slimy switchers.

And now, onto Mai’s actress, a very beautiful girl with talent and looks. She is literally so pretty, and you dare hate on her? You dare shame her for how she looks? From what I’ve heard she’s a minor, too, so this makes you 100000% more slimy and undeserving of any sympathy in my book.

This is her, this is the girl.

She’s literally so pretty. Maybe she hasn’t got the same facial structure of Mai, but she delivered all her lines she had in the little screen time and with the discutibile scenes she was given. She was good. But you see a square jaw, a rounder shape of face, and are immediately triggered.

And you can’t even use the stupid argument of “she’s fat”, because this is literally her.

A very normal, very healthy young woman. Not as skinny as OG Mai? So what? She’s still a fricking thin girl. Nowhere as “fat” as you haters make her to be.

I shouldn’t have to explain common sense and basic decency to grown adults, and yet here we are.

This is honestly so frustrating. In the year of 2024 you can’t possibly justify insulting girls like this, with no shame. It’s absolutely idiotic and shows very a big lack of brain cells. I see you, haters, behind your device, with your insecurities and shame for yourself, laughing at two girls who made it farther than you ever will. You can critique the acting once you’ve seen it in full potential. Until then, shut your tramp up. This is very small dick energy of you.

I don’t see why I should treat you with kindness when you are so eager to make this kind of jokes about pretty and in shape girls you are very obviously jealous of. Go touch some grass, incels.

[kquil]

JAMES POTTER | JOINT SCHEDULE

request. : Hey can you do some more ice hockey player James imagines? I love them sm! —@prongsbandit

sum. : you booked the university's ice rink to practice your routine for an upcoming competition but so did the university's ice hockey team, whose captain screwed up the timings

g. : fluff ; modern au ; ice hockey player james ; figure skater reader ; shy reader ; university au ; jock james potter ; supportive figure skating coach ; supportive hockey team

length : 1.6k

In preparation for an upcoming figure skating competition, you were dedicated to getting in as much practice as possible. Thankfully, you were able to book the university ice rink for two months in the lead up to the competition. Your regular practice sessions were every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday for five in the late afternoon until seven. It was a bit excessive but you wanted to win. Many of your friends view you as someone sweet and docile but also hard working and quite the perfectionist. What they don’t realise is how competitive you can be behind the scenes. Everytime you cancel plans, you usually excuse yourself with the ‘I’m busy’ reasoning that your close friends readily accept, believing that you were working through papers and research articles for uni classes when, in actuality, you were spending time in the rink. 

Today, you had brought with you your portable stereo to go through the routine with the music over and over again, gradually perfecting the appearance of your more grandiose moves as well as the sequence of your steps on the ice. It felt good being at this stage of your development, the entirety of your routine has been choreographed already and had been revised by your coach, who suggested some minor changes but approved it overall — you knew what you were doing, it was just the case of perfecting things now, something you were talented at and even enjoyed. 

The main focus for today’s session was the polishing of the big jumps and ambitious spins of your routine. It was a little tiresome and you don’t believe you’d be able to cover all of them for this session but you never really expected to in the first place. Your only saving grace was that you had some time to apply light makeup earlier in celebration for the new figure skating set you were gifted by your parents. It was an all black set that paired a sleek skort with a long sleeved turtle neck top that had lacing to decorate the open back and thumb holes in the sleeves as the hem reached half way up your palms. You liked feeling pretty in practices, it always helped to encourage your self-confidence so there was always a little spike in your performance. The praises of your supervising coach was all you needed to confirm this fact. 

“Brilliant, my girl! Again!” Vera sang her high praises from the stands and helped you control the music whenever you wanted to repeat a particular part of the choreo. For this routine, you had settled for something more elegant and based the choreography around the ‘Waltz of the Flowers’ by Tchaikovsky. The soundtrack made you miss the time you did ballet until you were fifteen before eventually falling in love with figure skating. A lot of your routines tend to be based around the elegance of ballet in addition to the complicated turns, spins and jumps that encompassed figure skating; your coach, Vera, loved how you were able to combine both sports in such a seamless way. 

The music kept playing even after you had repeated the skid spiral so you naturally flowed into rehearsing more of your choreo, allowing muscle memory and the music to guide you over the ice as you subconsciously waited for Vera to pause the music and ask you to repeat something that didn’t look quite right. Polishing up the routine was filled with more critiques than any stage of creating your final performance so your anticipation for Vera to pause the music, repeat a move and provide additional tips lingered in the back of your mind as you flawlessly spiralled into one of your most difficult spins — a one-handed beillman. 

“Beautiful Beautiful!” Vera praised, clapping as you gradually spun out of the position before abandoning the routine and grinning widely to yourself, proud and giddy for finally nailing the transition and spin. 

“Vera!” you shout across the ice and over the music, cheering with your fists raised to the air in victory, “I did it!” It was then when you realised that Vera’s clapping was accompanied with an entire audience of applause and your panicked eyes fell upon a grinning hockey player standing beside your coach, behind them was a team of hockey players, some whistling and whooping in between their applause. 

As you tried to catch your breath and suppress your bashfulness, you gathered that Vera had neglected to reply to the soundtrack to discuss something with the hockey player, and so, it seems that the entire hockey team just saw a glimpse of your routine. Eventually, Vera paused the music and motioned you over, looking to discuss something. 

“Wh-what’s wrong?” you ask upon reaching the sidelines, fiddling with the hem of your sleeves as you avoided the hockey player’s eyes. He was dressed in most of his equipment, only missing his headgear, and was sporting the dopiest grin on his face. “It appears as though the university hockey team had booked the rink to practise for a match happening early next week, however, there was some miscommunication over the timings and schedules,” you furrow your brows as Vera explains the situation before shyly glancing up at the hockey player beside her, who had unruly dark curls and glimmering hazel eyes behind a pair of cute glasses. It seems your simple acknowledgement of him was enough to prompt his self introduction. 

“I’m James,” he reaches out his gloved hand for you to shake, quickly taking it back to rip of his glove off before reaching to shake your hand once again, “James Potter, Captain of the Hockey team,” behind him the rest of the hockey players wave at you, some with friendly grins and others sporting a mischievous smirk as they regard their captain’s behaviour around you, “Vera explained that you were practising for a competition and also booked the rink in advance but since you got here early, we’ll put the decision to you,”

You raised a brow and tilted your head slightly, prompting him to continue, “make a decision on what?”

“On whether to kick us out and continue your practice or finish your practice early and allow us to have the rink for drills exercises and plays,” James finished, grinning at you with no malice and insinuating that he wouldn’t hold any ill-will over either outcome. 

“Oh!” your cheeks heat up under his warm voice, amiable manner, pretty eyes and charming dimples and you couldn’t help but stare for a moment before eventually shaking your head and giving him your resolve, “I’d be happy to give you the rink, I’ve covered a lot of ground already so I don’t mind,” James’s smile reaches his eyes once more and he nods. 

“You heard the lady boys, what do we say?” he shouts back to his team, his voice commanding attention and is as firm as his build, encouraging an ensemble of ‘thank you’s to sound from behind him, “Thank you very much,” James finishes and nods to his boys, signalling them to set up the rink and get ready for practice while you also take the time to shake off your nerves and walk off the ice, where James greets you once more.

“I hope you have a good and productive practice,” you wish him and offer a warm smile, your heart finally settled down to a semi-heightened beat. He’s really quite handsome…you think to yourself but quickly look away to, again, keep from staring too long. 

“Thank you and thanks again for letting us have the rink,” James takes your hand and lifts your knuckles to his lips — an act of gratitude that has a dangerous heat creeping up your neck to occupy your cheeks once more, “you’re very beautiful on the ice, by the way. I’m sure you’ll smash it at the competition, your competitors don’t stand a chance,” the two of you share pleasantries and more smiles before you finally make your way to the locker rooms to change with a straighter back and a lighter heart. 

What an encounter. 

“She practises every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday from 5 to 7pm,” Vera says out of nowhere as she approaches James, who stares off to where you had disappeared. 

“I’m sorry?” 

A stone cold look crosses over Vera’s face, “avoid those times at all costs,” she warns, her russian accent suddenly thick and intimidating, “my student doesn’t need any distractions,” the statement makes James raise a brow in question, “her competition is on the 14th November, held in the city community rink, and it starts at noon, don’t be late,”

Suffice to say, James wasn’t late to your competition, in fact,  he was early and he brought the entire hockey team with him to support you. You won second place but felt like a gold medalist when the hockey team hollered the loudest for you at the awarding ceremony and lifted you onto their shoulders with the congratulatory flowers James brought you in your arms and your silver medal around your neck.  To return the favour, you attended their next hockey game and made sure to shout the loudest whenever their team scored and eventually when their team won the match.

“When do you think our captain’s finally gonna grow some balls and ask out his ice skating ballerina?” Sirius whispers to his taller brunette friend.

“Let them take their time,” Remus replies, the two staring as James throws his arm over your shoulders and you wrap your own around the back of his waist, “everyone already thinks their dating anyway so they’ll get it eventually,”

“Wait! So they’re not actually dating yet?” Peter asks with a surprised face as the other two laugh, “But I swear I saw them kissing by the locker rooms before the game earlier!”

a/n : i know nothing about ice skating or ice hockey but i tried my best! i'm sorry if this is not very realistic. i also hope that the request was fulfilled to a satisfactory standard despite the long wait, i'm really sorry for that by the way (┳Д┳) nevertheless, i tried my best and i hope this made you happy, darling, thank you for the cute request (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

navi.

taglist : @ghostgardn @fredweasleysjumper @rosalyn-s @melinajenkins @astonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @sageskisses444 @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @neeezza101 @chaosofmanyfandoms

[jhkfan123]

million dollar man | coriolanus snow

"you're screwed up and brilliant.."

pairing: academy! snow x fem!academy student

in which: you just couldn't seem to win with him. every 100% you got, he got a 101%. with graduation approaching, you knew you had to get valedictorian somehow. he was making it too difficult.

warnings: slight angst, academic pressure, slight non-con kiss

wc: 1.7k

a/n: i genuinely struggled to write a happy ending but it's finally here

the professor handed you back your test, faced down. she always did, with every other student too, but there was something about receiving it face down that always made you nervous. at least you weren't like some of the others, who constantly left class with their head hung low.

you turned your paper over. 98%. it wasn't good enough. not to your standards, anyway. and it especially wasn't good enough for coriolanus snow, who now was glancing at you from across the classroom, a smug smile on his face. you weren't ever going to hear the end of this, just like every other time he had scored higher than you.

this had to stop. graduation was approaching at a rapid pace, and valedictorian was the role you had aimed for your entire life. both your parents had achieved it, your older brother had too. which meant you pretty much had to. and the boy now looking over at you made it increasingly hard for you to achieve this goal. and worse, he didn't even know how bad you needed it.

you assumed he had gotten a perfect 100. it was the only reason he would already be smiling. it meant there was no way you could beat him. not this time.

you heard your professor dismiss you and for once, you became one of the kids who walked out of class with their head low. you had recently realized how close the valedictorian decision was. this 98% would set you back farther than it should. making your way out, you saw snow approach you out of your periphery. you picked up your pace, hoping he would just back off today.

it didn't work. when you left the crowded sea of people exiting the class, and found yourself closer to your locker, he caught up to you.

"hey 83." 83. it was the lowest you had scored at the academy, and he never let it go. it was aggravating.

"coriolanus, please, i can't do this today" you sighed and finished opening your locker. you put your book away in the small cube and grabbed everything else you needed for your afternoon classes.

"can't what? admit i did better than you on this one?" he showed his paper to you, a big red 100% circled in the top right corner. you rolled your eyes at him and slammed your locker door.

"whatever you want to tell yourself." you groaned and made your way to the lunch line. you noticed his demeanor change. he hated when you weren't up for his competition. it was his favorite part of the day, that's what you determined anyway. he realllllyyy seemed to get a kick of out it. he followed behind you swiftly.

"wait wait wait. what'd you score?" he asked. you thought about wether or not you wanted to tell him. if you didn't he would keep vexing you the rest of the day. if you did, you would have to sit through a couple minutes of verbal torment. you truly couldn't decide what the better option was.

"98." you said, very quietly. just because he wanted to know didn't mean the whole school had to know. you saw a smirk appear on his face.

"sorry what was that?" the look on his face made it crystal clear he had already heard you, he was just provoking you.

"i got a 98, coryo. now please, go find someone else to torment." you urged him away, but he got in the lunch line directly behind you. you sighed again.

"98." he repeated to himself, feeling the success roll of his tongue. "two away from perfect." that's what it seems to be. you were always two away from perfect. there was always something wrong, always something to be improved. you weren't sure if that was your family talking, or the perfectionist inside you. nevertheless, he had suddenly made you more aware of the faults in your recent test. it was maddening.

"look i have a meeting with professor click." you faced him now, which startled him slightly. " and i need to talk to you. i'll swing by you later." you grabbed your lunch tray and headed off.

afterschool, you rushed over coriolanus's dorm. every student had to do at least one semester living on campus for graduation, and most seniors chose the last semester, to live together and be together for the last time. so the walk from your dorm to his was not very extensive. you walked down your hallway, down the stairs, outside, up stairs, and approached his dorm. at least, you were pretty sure it was his. you had never actually been.

you knocked on his door. there was silence for a moment. then you heard a monotone "come in." you did as told and opened the door. you found coriolanus hunched over his desk, his hand fanned over his forehead. he was looking over numerous papers.

you knew the high grades the two of you had achieved came at a cost. multitasking this and a social life was not very possible. you had managed to somewhat pull it off, but it was very difficult to achieve. you had assumed every night was like this for him. study hard, and it pays off. but studying hard also means stress and pain. you looked like this most nights. in fact, it was a miracle you even had time to come visit him today.

"hey." he said, moving the papers off to the side. you never really had seen him like this. he was usually so cocky, such a showboat. but here he was stressed and real.

"hi. look, can we talk?"you stood in the doorway, until he gestured you in. you closed the door behind you. while awaiting his response, you looked around his dorm. there was an empty dorm bed parallel to his. he had attained a room with no roommate. there was a makeshift kitchen where the other desk was. there was a dresser below the window and very basic decorations all around. when you made you way back to coriolanus, he was nodding. "ok. i just want to let you know that i need this."

he seemed confused. "need what?"

"valedictorian. i don't know what kind of pressure you have on your back, but i assure you mine is worse." you began to ramble.

"seriously." he seems dissapointed that this had become the subject of the conversation. "why would i just give up valedictorian to you?" he shrugged his shoulders.

"i'll tell you. my entire family has been valedictorian for years." he rolled his eyes. "if i don't get valedictorian, my parent's would kill me."

he thought for a moment. "and why would i care about that?" he continued to counter your statements.

"because, coryo." you whined "you have the grades, you have everything and i need this because i have not worked my entire life for this to lose." you got more angry now. you didn't deserve to lose to him after spending your entire life studying.

"what makes you think that i have less pressure than you? have you ever considered that maybe the plinth prize is a factor in this?!" he raised his voice now. the statement seemed odd. the snow's were rich, disgustingly rich, right?

"look you may want that prize, but some people need it." you rebutted. you didn't need the prize for the money, but for the satisfaction. so that your parents could frame the certificate on your wall.

"i need it. trust me." he became stricter now. he looked at you with a dark gaze. in what world would a snow need the plinth prize?

"ok well," you thought for a moment. "if i don't get valedictiorian i will have done everything for nothing, and got nothing from everything; from all the hard work i've put in every single year of my life!" snow became more annoyed by the moment, but you couldn't stop rambling. "and i didn't have anything in my way until you decided that everything had to be a competition and you had to beat me, and now you have and i just want you to-"

"shut up." he walked over to you and shut your mouth with a breathtaking, rough kiss. it was completely unexpected, and you fell into a moment of shock. his kiss kept going and you weren't sure wether to shove him away, or let him do it.

usually you wouldn't even have to think and take the first option immediately, but for some reason you let it happen. and out of some world, you kissed him back.

maybe it was all those years of built up anger against him. maybe it was a stress release. maybe you just needed an escape.

but maybe it was something else. you decided that you felt comfortable here, his lips on yours. this complicated feeling of hating him and loving him at the same time. the second one was new. loving him. you didn't have an explanation.

maybe it was the years of arguments that had turned into banter he looked forward to every day. soon the dot's started to connect. you realized how many chances he took to talk to you.

your mother always taught you that boys had a funny way of showing things. a funny way of telling you things. and now it made sense. he had been doing this as a way to talk to you. as a way to get closer to you. you didn't need confirmation. the kiss was enough. you liked this. no. you loved this.

everything became more intense. he hadn't pulled away, and you hadn't either, so you kept going. you felt his hands around your waist as he pushed you against the front wall of the dorm.

you could have kept going all night with him. but you needed to hear him talk. you finally pulled away and took your first deep breath after around five minutes.

"what. the hell." you said through exasperated breaths. you spoke the words to him, but also to yourself. this was not how you expected the day to go.

"god." you heard him mumble under his breath.

"what?" you asked.

"i just hate that i waited so long to do that." his comment sent goosebumps through your body.

"i didn't even know i wanted that until now." you again, spoke to both yourself and him. he smiled at you. proud of his accomplishment.

this was a different type of success that you normally felt. this success in romance felt different than the academic success you had been working towards your whole life.

you liked this success.

[lovebugism]

Okay, for your Blurbcember what about "Don't you think gingerbread houses with gingerbread men are kinda morbid? I mean, it's a house made out of flesh?" with Steve? And reader just pauses, bag of icing in hand while the gingerbread roof slowly slips off and stares at Steve like boy, I love you but what tf is in your eggnog?

you might be genius for this one, anon. hope u like it!! — you, the grump of the group, try hopelessly to decorate a gingerbread house with your perfectly ditzy bf (grump!reader, established relationship, fluff, 0.8k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

“We can’t decorate this if you keep eating all the candy. You know that, right?” Your voice comes in a concentrated, half-annoyed monotone. You’d be grumpier about it if you weren’t so focused. Now, you’re more worried about piping even shingles on the gingerbread roof than your boyfriend eating all of your supplies.

Steve stops chewing with a cheekful of something sugary. “Sorry,” he apologizes, mostly muffled.

You lay the piping bag on the tabletop and flash a deadpanned glance to the boy beside you. With his hair grown out and pushed over his head, chiseled jaw scruffy and unshaven, and ugly Christmas sweater pushed up to his elbows — you think he’s the coziest he’s ever looked. Far too pretty to be mad at.

“Can you hand me the gumdrops?”

He nods enthusiastically, happy to finally help in some way. He reaches to his left for the plastic bag of vividly colored candies. The bag is lighter than he expected, and much much emptier. It shouldn’t surprise him. He’s the one that ate them all.

“Sorry…” he repeats as he passes the bag to you. He gives you a crooked smile in return, an enthusiastic glimmer in the honey of his eye. “It looks really pretty so far, though!”

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” you murmur. 

Dustin told you that this was usually a team effort, a friendly competition between the whole group, but your fingers are the only ones cramping now. You delicately stick each gumdrop into place and try to ignore how tense your wrist has gotten. You figure the Henderson boy must be much of the same in the living room — he’s too much of a perfectionist for anything else.

“You’re the one that told me to stop helping!”

“‘Cause you almost broke the ceiling off, remember?”

“You underestimate my strength, sweetheart,” Steve argues, only half-joking. He leans his elbow on the table and props his scruffy chin on a balled-up fist. “My strong hands can crack that gingerbread, no problem.”

“Yeah. Okay,” you scoff.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, okay? We just have to make it better than Dustin’s, because I do not want to spend another year with that little shit bragging about making the best house.”

Dustin Henderson is a little super genius, and Nancy, Robin, and Will are the judges this year. The odds of beating everyone’s favorite smartmouth aren’t exactly in your favor. You’re not the most creative person either, but you are pretty competitive. To a fault, some might say.

Honestly, the only reason you took this gig was because you wanted to spend more time with Steve. 

He doesn’t need to know that, though.

“Well, you didn’t have me a year ago, did you?” you quip, eyes still trained on the creation before you.

Steve grins so wide that it’s audible in his sickly sweet tone. “No. I didn’t. I got real lucky this go around, didn’t I?”

His smile grows when your face screws up in annoyance. “You’re disgusting…”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Hand me the candy canes,” you tell them. And then, because you’re trying to be nicer — “Please.”

With his lips quirked in a lopsided smile, he hands you the plastic bag. You stick a couple of the mini sticks into the makeshift yard, then break the ends off to use as windowsills. You put two of them together in a heart shape and stick them to the front of your house, just below the roof.

Steve’s chest swells with warmth. “Aw, that’s cute. You big softie.”

“Shut up…” you grumble.

“It’s a compliment,” the boy laughs, a sunshine sound that turns the kitchen golden. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. The bottom of his sweater lifts slightly, flashing a sliver of his stomach. “It’s real nice, you know, for a gingerbread house and everything.”

You squint at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I mean— don’t you think gingerbread houses are kinda morbid? Like… It’s a house. Made out of their flesh.” He explains it all like it’s obvious, like it’s a thought he’s had a million times before. He scoffs out a laugh, amused by your visible confusion. “It’s kinda weird when you think about it.”

At a loss for words, you blink at the boy beside you. You don’t think you’ve ever been more dumbfounded — more in love with anybody else in the whole entire world.

Steve is so much different than you are. You’re sometimes too serious, easily annoyed, and a little bit gauche. And Steve is… like walking into the sun. He’s like walking into the sun for the very first time after a terribly long winter.

“What?” he says, chuckling at the silence. The plastic on the table crinkles audibly when he reaches for another gumdrop. He chucks three into his mouth at once, then remembers he isn’t supposed to be eating them at all. “Oh, shit— sorry, babe.”

“Did you spike the eggnog?” you blurt.

“No,” he scoffs, trying to get the candy out of the back of his teeth with his tongue.

You shake your head with a distant smile and try hopelessly to hide it from him. “You’re crazy,” you murmur under your breath.

Steve grins, lopsided and rosy, and with grains of sugar stuck to the corners of his mouth. “Yeah. For you.”

[sabertoothwalrus]

OK PREFACING WITH IM SORRY IF I ALREADY SENT THIS EXACT ASK BUT MY WIFI KILLED ITSSLF AS I SENT IT SO IDK IF IT ACTUALLY WENT THROUGH. but in case it didn’t . i know youve gotten this countless times in the past because i blog stalked just in case youve mentioned something similar before but i need to know if you have any specific inspirations when you draw exaggerated expressions specifically like these two images of marcille. ive actually cried laughing over this comic and being able to communicate this type of visceral emotion is such an insane skill and ive followed your art for probably close to a decade through various fandoms so watching you develop this style has been fucking awesome and epic. like i cannot articulate how funny these are to me i just need you to understand i look at this comic to inspire me to draw now. the closest comparison i can draw to the feelings they evoke are like those mspaint reaction images and also mspaint tails i included for reference even though you probably know exactly what im talking about anyways but its actually so much harder to do that intentionally when you study art. also i lied you literally don’t even need to answer this i just had to let you know how obsessed i am over your silly comics and now ive written out a whole ass discussion post about it. im sorry if this is weird at all i think my daily prescribed amphetamines r wearing off and i know this is such a dumb specific thing to fixate on and im so sorry if its not something you want to hear about your art. ive just always seen that as an artist this type of expressive stupid silly style is something that comes after a significant amount of time and practice and study and style development despite being “simple” in theory. its just so cool to have worked with your own style so much that youre able to go “off model” from it and still maintain consistency with the rest of the piece. i said it already and im sorry this is actually rendundant now but the ability to communicate such raw emotion somehow decreases from at its height when someone is a beginner artist learning how to proportion and keep a steady line and what looks “normal” but somehow it all comes full circle because taking all that experience and using it to almost return to where you started but in a fully informed and intentional way so you can make choices to draw characters like this when the situation calls for it is just dhcidogakgoshfhw. i think i need to cut myself off or im going to talk in circles im sorry tumblr user sabertoothwalrus i just am fascinated by your style and progress and the years you’ve dedicated to art can be seen in so many places but this is just one that stands out to me specifically.

MMMMM what a fun question!!!

I'm not gonna lie, I think it's just Letting A Drawing Be Bad. I definitely think the people that struggle with this the most are people who have genuinely very pretty art styles, to the point of being kind of perfectionist about it. and to Draw Funny often means Drawing Fast and Weird. Pretty is kind of the antithesis of funny (unless being pretty is the punchline). do drawings that make yourself laugh. tracing/lining funny sketches almost always makes them less funny.

one of my favorite types of humor is when it skews more deadpan, actually. This is one of the reasons I love Adventure Time. minimal expressions and flat line delivery + absurd context is a really good combo. the key to comedy has more to do with contrast! if your drawings are allllll crazy ren & stimpy all the time, they're not funny anymore cause it's just "normal". if it's all subdued UNTIL it's extreme, and vice versa, then it's funny. The reason this comic is so funny is because of the complete lack of any expression. I feel like the one you sent of Marcille shouting "WHAT" is funnier when you know how much she tries to be dainty and feminine and delicate, how much she values her appearance, and how averse she is to "gross" or "weird" things.

something I find really annoying (and this is with comics/animation in general, not the expressions themselves) is when the joke goes on for too long. Like you'll have the joke, then the punchline, and THEN the characters reacting to the punchline??? Like the author didn't trust that their audience would find the joke funny, so they basically drew in a laugh track. But, this is distinct from a character's reaction being the punchline (like how the examples you gave from my Marcille comic are). MY POINT IS sometimes expressions aren't as funny on their own as you think, and context can affect how you feel about it!

as far as inspirations go!

my own face! even if I don't have a mirror, I like making the expressions myself so I can "feel" where the points of tension on my face are, and it gives me a sense of what to exaggerate.

my brother's art, believe it or not! we've been trying to make each other laugh with our drawings since we were kids, and he's really good at it.

ATLA has some great expressions

OK KO has been a reallyyyy good source for me lately. That show is so tailored to my sense of humor and the expressions and line deliveries feel exactly like the kinds of things I'd come up with. The tone, timing, and art style are all really close to the tv show pitch I'm working on, so when I feel like I've "strayed" too much from it (like after drawing a bunch of dungeon meshi, and my art feels tighter and... idk "manga-ier"?) I like to go and watch a couple episodes of OK KO to loosen back up

A lot of things like OG Spongebob, Calvin & Hobbes, the Simpsons, Chowder, etc etc

memes in general. if it makes you laugh, keep it in mind

and lastly, I wouldn't say I ever try to mimic funny expressions I see. Like if I watch a show for inspo, I'm not pausing it to copy specific drawings, I'm just trying to notice patterns and pay attention to what about it I find funny.

talking about being funny is really bizarre and I dunno if it makes it lose some of the magic. Ultimately it's something you can't think about too much, and just gotta go with your gut.

[silvershiningtarot]

PACs: How Would Your FS Introduce You To Their Parents? (describes)

Disclaimer: 20+ mature, this is a general reading. This is about how would they introduce you to their families and describe you😱. It is like their first impression!! Enjoy, remember this is a general reading. This is a short reading, I'm doing.

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Pile 1:

Queen Of Wands, King Of Cups, Two Of Cups Rx, and Six Of Swords. Oh yeah, this makes me think that your husband, wife, or unicorn 🦄 they'll introduce you to their parents when they are confident. But I feel like in my opinion, your husband will be so happy and passionate about letting you meet their parents. But I feel that their parents will be welcoming but it seems like you might be nervous for a second because I don't know if they are close to their parents. But I heard “one of them.” so your spouse could be close to one of their parent. Their parent might tell you how your spouse grew up. Haha 😂 I can see it happening 😁.

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Pile 2: The Hanged Man Rx and Six Of Pentacles Rx.

Alright, I think either you or your spouse will be nervous. Because what I feel is that they won't be open-minded about introducing you to their parents. I heard “easy up.” maybe they'll feel pressure about it. I heard “nagging.” Maybe, you'll be nagging them. But see I was right. There's something they aren't open-minded to. Hmmm 🤔 I wonder why they aren't. But they'll be stubborn about it. They'll be self-sabotaging themselves. I heard “does nothing to deal with you.” Maybe, there's something they grew up with. I can't explain but there is something they don't want to show you. It's sucks but I can them being a bit close-minded about introducing you to their parents. Maybe, they feel like you'll judge them. Or they aren't open to introducing you to their parents. Some of y’all Spouse feel the need to not want to be introduced to their parents. I'm hearing “not ready yet.” well if they aren't ready then no need to force them too.

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Pile 3: Five Of Wands, The Hanged Man and Knight Of Pentacles.

Alright, in a sense I'm getting that your husband will be patient in introducing you to their parents or parents. Even if they have their soul family parents. That's Cool. I'm hearing them say “I wanna take it real slow.” I am getting a feeling that they'll introduce you to their parent when the time is right. But since I'm looking at the Knight of Pentacles I feel that they are dropping little hints for their parents. I think that y’all husband’s telling their parents that they are seeing someone which you guys and they aren't ready to bring you to them. I have a feeling that some of y’all husband's parents are very positive and clingy to their sons but in a Healthy way. I feel that their parents are like the weirdos of the family if that makes sense. But you are going to like that about your husband haha. You'll understand why your husband is the way that they are. Most of you, I feel that your husband's parents are very competitive. I'm hearing “traditional.” because, with the Five Of Wands, I'm seeing the very firey kind of family that they have. I'm feeling more toxic in a sense. They have this perfectionist kind of family. It's very getting a sense it very “ugh” with them introducing you to their parents or parents. So in my opinion, I'm getting more traditional parent. The reason why I say parent its makes me think hmm. I don't know it's a feeling I'm picking up. But I feel that you might change their mind about it. Give them a new perspective on things. I can see them being able to see better the full picture of it. I'm getting like “healing”. Maybe, they don't get along with their parent. I won't go any further than that but I have a feeling that they wanna be patient with you and just take a pause to introduce y'all connection to their parent. But for some of you, I'm getting that they are excited about introducing you to their parent or parents. They feel hella excited. I have a feeling that they like to introduce people to their parents. Who has good energy? That's why they feel like they can do it. With you. I can feel them saying “It's time. It's time” haha 😂 they are all excited!!!

[arson-09]

Tamlin is actually such an underrated character in acotar. Because of feyres very biased narrative she forces readers to ignore the complexity of his character and man. its sad

Tamlin is a character who is genuinely GOOD at his core. He changed so much of the spring court for good, eliminating slavery within the spring lands and mortals having more protection. Hes a morally good character that made a few mistakes and is boiled down to just those mistakes. Locking feyre in the house and the magical/emotional blow up, which are both pretty decent fuck ups (i dont think siding with hybern fully counts as he was a double agent all along and tamlin was decently justified in thinking feyre was being kept against her will. lets be fr here) and even after he’s extremely fucked over by the nightcourt, his lands and court burned to shit, he still saves rhysand. Saves rhysand and tells feyre to be happy, even when he has every reason to NOT do that!

Hes a character that clearly holds himself to a higher standard. throughout acotar he puts lucien and feyres safety above his own, even sending feyre away when she was the only one who could save him. Even though what he did to her wasnt great its not completely irredeemable, rhysand did much worse things to feyre and other people but hes living his best life while Tamlin seems to find himself unworthy of being a person (acosf wheres hes been in beast form for roughly over two years) hes a perfectionist who now doesnt even think he deserves anyone because he accidentally hurt the people he loves most.

Sjm accidentally created a beautifully rich and morally righteous character who is so extremely fucked by the narrative. Which doesnt even work half the time as sjm cant seemingly commit to making him a full villain (seemingly by accident again she gave him quite a reasonable explanation to everything he did ‘wrong’ but still chooses to make him a punching bag)

If Tamlin was genuinely a morally evil character he wouldnt have NEARLY the amount of fans as he does. Hes a character that requires the minimum amount of media literacy and comprehension to understand and i LOVE him.

[alexiethymia]

Yor Briar, Yor, and Yor-san

I was reading an excellent post about the nuance in the original japanese and now I thought I’d take a crack at what this means for Loid (although other people have already made an excellent analysis on this).

Loid has only called her Yor Briar in the beginning and when he was suspecting her of playing him. But Fiona’s insistence on her full name, Yor Briar, and her notice of Loid’s seemingly stubborn refusal to use it seems to me that Loid had always previously referred to assets by their full name. It could also be pragmatic in that he knows Fiona wants the ‘role’ of his wife hence her stubborn insistence of using Yor’s maiden name, so he uses Yor-san to counter Fiona’s way of delegitimizing Yor’s role. But I don’t think Loid can sense the real reason for Fiona’s insistence, so while in his view Fiona may be acting unprofessionally, generally speaking, I think Loid would be the one acting unprofessionally in constantly using ‘Yor-san’ to refer to his ‘wife’ to his WISE colleagues especially if he didn’t use to do that before (which yeah it’s hard to imagine him addressing his other marks that way).

Although the audience knows that Fiona is acting far from being professional, with Loid’s limited knowledge of her feelings, wouldn’t she actually have a point in referring to Yor as YOR BRIAR in a working setting? Because isn’t that all she was supposed to be? An asset or a tool? And yet Loid seems annoyed by that and insists on humanizing her by calling her, Yor-san.

Now someone might say, that’s nothing to make a big deal about. It would have been a big deal had he referred to her as ‘just’ Yor without the honorific. Because using someone’s name without honorifics is supposed to connote a deeper sort of intimacy. But that’s the thing. It would have been a forced intimacy for show. ‘Yor’ is his mode of address when he’s putting on a show of being a loving husband, complete with that <fake> Loid Forger voice. Yor is what he calls her around her colleagues or his colleagues (Nightfall undercover as Fiona at the hospital) to present how they’re a completely ordinary, close and loving family. In a way, it’s a subtle cue to Yor as well that they’re in ‘family’ mode now or ‘husband-and-wife’ mode. Yor denotes her as being a mask.

Which is actually why Yor-san is perfect. If Yor Briar is her as an asset, Yor is her as a mask, then Yor-san is her as a partner. He’s used women to get to his goal before. The only thing different now is Anya and the fact that on some level he is also working together with Yor. Had he actually succeeded in his first honeytrap attempt with Yor when he thought she had fallen in love with him, I imagine that he might have started treating Yor the same way he did his other assets before. But thank goodness it didn’t succeed, and in my view, he ended up falling into the trap instead.

Yor-san is perfect because it parallels the way Yor calls him. It’s perfect because it conveys the perfect level of intimacy. They’re not actually a lovey-dovey couple as ‘Yor’ would imply, but unfortunately for Nightfall, she’s also not just ‘YOR BRIAR’ another tool to him. It’s perfect because it conveys respect which Loid has a healthy amount of for Yor. If he can help it, he doesn’t like using her. And Nightfall is right to be worried that this comfortable mode of address of Loid’s is bleeding over to Twilight as if to blur the two. Loid is supposed to be an entirely different person or character so what does it mean that Twilight also calls his wife the same way Loid does? ‘Yor-san’ and ‘Loid-san’ are partners in a lot of ways. Yor-san is whom he can let down his guard down around, and someone this perfectionist spy can ask help from and rely on.

So what about Yuri Briar? He doesn’t know the true nature of Yor and Loid’s arrangement. Shouldn’t he be calling her Yor in front of him to keep up the ruse? Again, I think part of it is pragmatic. He doesn’t want to further aggravate the siscon. But especially in light of Chapter 86 and Volume 10’s inner cover, I think (at least unconsciously) it’s because Yuri is family. I notice that Twilight hasn’t even kept up the Loid persona as much in front of Yuri anymore (which tbf can’t blame him cause how do you even react to Yuri) but it’s not as if Yuri is someone to be underestimated. Some way or the other, even if he doesn’t fully realize it, I think Twilight is starting to treat Yuri like how Yor treats him or at the very least he can’t treat him like any other enemy or bystander because he’s someone important to Yor. Which again as CH 86 would show, Fiona has already noticed, and Twilight himself is angry at himself about. I don’t think Twilight has realized any sort of feelings for Yor yet, but I guess to Fiona, his mode of address for her is and has always been telling.

It’s actually interesting to think that perhaps it’s when he’s calling her ‘Yor-san’ that he’s most like himself - like Loid, Twilight and the boy before there was Twilight all at once - with her.